Secret Storm (22 page)

It had been a long damn day, starting with
the interview, then rushing back home to tell her everything. The
drive had taken a lot out of him, but he'd still had the strength
to make love to her—twice. The night hadn't ended yet. He could do
it twice more if he got a little rest and a bottle of water
and....

"I just figured out why I'm so tired."

"Did I wear you out already?" She winked at
him.

"Besides that. I haven't eaten since
breakfast."

"Yeah, that would do it."

"Especially after what you did to me." He
smiled and nipped her earlobe.

She laughed. "Jane said there's some cake in
the fridge."

"Please tell me it's her Better than Sex
cake."

"I think it is, but if it really is better
than sex...."

"We'll need more practice."

She dragged him off the couch into the
kitchen. Jane's delicious creations stocked the fridge, including
the guys' favorite cake. "You need something besides dessert. Want
some lasagna?"

"Sounds good." He dug into the cake while she
warmed up the lasagna and set two places at the table. He sat down
and brought the cake with him. Their clothes still lay strewn
across her bedroom, and he didn't feel like getting up for
them.

She seemed in no hurry either. Obviously she
didn't have a problem with naked. "Do you want some wine?"

"Nope. No more drinking for me." Chocolate,
caramel and toffee did the trick just fine.

"Oh, right." She served the lasagna and sat
down at the table. "Austin told me about your adventure with the
scotch."

"Yeah, I figured he would." He picked up his
fork and took a bite.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Not at all. It took the edge off for a
little while, but afterwards I felt worse, especially the next
morning."

"Hangovers are a bitch."

"Prentiss always said the best way to cure a
hangover was to get drunk again."
That's odd.
He never
talked about anything Prentiss said or did, not even with Austin.
He picked the lasagna apart and glanced at Sara, trying to read her
reaction.

"So he was constantly drunk?"

"Pretty much." She opened a bottle of water
and took a sip, so he kept talking. "I don't remember him ever
being happy. He was always pissed-off about something."

"Why did your mom fall in love with him?"

He put his fork down and took a drink of
water, thinking. "I have no idea. We never talk about him. I don't
know much about their relationship before I was born. I know she
was pregnant when they got married."

"Were they young?"

He noticed she hadn't eaten a bite. She
leaned on the table with her chin in her hands, doing her best to
look casual. Her blue eyes focused on him intently, silently
pleading for him to continue. "Yeah, my mom didn't finish high
school. After she left him, she got her GED and then she went to
nursing school."

"Is she happy now?"

"Yes, she is. She loves her job, and she met
a good guy and they're happily married."

"I didn't know you had a stepfather."

"I don't know him very well. We're not
close." He pushed a mushroom around his plate with his fork, not
very hungry anymore. "I don't get close to people, especially other
guys. I'm friendly, but I don't have many real friends—except
Austin, but he's family."

"I can see that."

He pushed his plate away. "I don't remember
my mom being happy either."
Why am I still talking about
this?
"She cried a lot."

She reached across the table and touched his
arm. "Did you?"

"No. Prentiss tried to make me cry."

"How? Did he hit you?"

"Mom got the worst of it. He didn't usually
hit me unless I tried to protect her. He verbally abused me—just
plain mean—but I wouldn't cry. I thought if I didn't cry, I'd be
tougher than him, and if I was tougher than him, he couldn't hurt
me."

"You protected yourself by controlling your
emotions."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You still do."

He wanted to argue, but lost his fight
immediately.
Is that another way of protecting myself?
He
couldn't let that wall build up again—not with Sara. "Don't let
me...."

She put down the dishes she'd gathered, and
reached for him.

"Don't let me shut you out. I need your help,
Sara. Don't let me forget that."

"I won't." She squeezed his hand. "Don't be
afraid to ask."

He nodded, too overwhelmed by emotions to
speak.

"You're exhausted." She leaned forward and
kissed him. "Come to bed with me."

They left the dirty dishes on the table and
crawled into her bed. She sighed and closed her eyes, her head
resting on his heart, but Jack lay wide awake, too worn out to
sleep.

In the three years she'd known Jack, he'd
never once talked about his family. Now, just after deciding she'd
be perfectly content to leave the past behind, he'd volunteered the
information—answering her questions and solving the mystery behind
his anger.

Sara found him even more attractive now that
she understood what drove him.

David had called him dangerous, but she
didn't fear him. Jack knew how to handle violence. He'd grown up
with it as part of his daily life, and he faced it without fear. He
would never hurt anyone unless they threatened someone he loved. Or
on a playing field.

She smiled and snuggled closer to him,
listening to his strong and steady heartbeat. She loved him. Could
she tell him that and then leave him for grad school?
That's
cruel.
No, she couldn't tell him. She would show him. By
helping him through the funeral tomorrow, no matter how he chose to
deal with it.

Their future still looked uncertain, but not
as frightening as before. Maybe a long-distance relationship could
work for them now. Still, she wanted to keep him close.
Would he
come with me?
Maybe he could find a job nearby.
Can I
stay?
She had to go to grad school to achieve her career goals,
and she couldn't make that four-hour drive every day. Staying in
Bayfield wouldn't work.

Damn it! I have no control over our future,
but I can control our present.

At present, he lay naked in her bed, and she
intended to let him stay there as long as he wanted. They'd been
apart too long. She liked being with him—naked or not—and had
enjoyed their dinner tonight, their deep conversations. Just as
she'd enjoyed playing with him on the football field and on the
coffee table. Even fighting with him, because their arguments
eventually led to some really hot making up—hot
naked
making
up.

Sara rolled onto her side, snuggling back
against his chest.

He slid his arms around her. "You'd better
keep still or I'm gonna have to hold you down and...."

"And what?" She waited, breathless.

"I'll do exactly what you think a naked man
in your bed would do to you."

She caught her breath. His words sounded
dangerous, but an underlying tone in his voice—a playful
threat—tempted her to test him. She wiggled her ass against his
hardening cock.

With one swift move, he flipped her onto her
back and pinned her down with his body, forcing his knees between
her thighs and driving into her. "Woman, I warned you."

She laughed as his mouth took hers. He never
made idle threats.

He pulled out and held her wrists while he
nibbled down her neck. She arched into him, squirming and groaning
as he took tiny nips at her flesh, then pulled one arm free and
grabbed a handful of his hair. But he wrestled her down again,
holding her wrists above her head, her body stretched out beneath
him.

"Right where I want you." He breathed the
words hot on her throat.

She wiggled her hips, pretending to attempt
escape, but his powerful thighs tightened, trapping her legs. She
couldn't move, could barely breathe, and blood rushed through her
limbs like a waterfall crashing over a breathtaking cliff.

Right where I want
you
, Jack.
The words spun through her brain as he rubbed his cock against her
thighs. Wanting to spread her legs and let him take her—but held
powerless to do it—thrilled her like nothing else.

"You should've listened to me," he whispered
on her damp skin.

"Please, please."

She arched her back and rubbed her hard
nipples against the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. It
tickled and then it tingled, and she did it again. A hard male body
had never felt so good. His hold tormented her like an itch just
out of reach—sweet relief when he got to it, but then another itch
popped up somewhere else. She needed his touch all over.

He used his body to caress her, rubbing skin
on naked skin. Letting go of her wrists, he slid his arms under her
and lifted her breasts to his mouth. His tongue teased her nipples,
and the head of his cock slid higher, parting her lower lips and
stroking her throbbing nub.

She twisted beneath him, slippery heat
dripping between her thighs. The more she struggled, the tighter he
held her and the harder he kissed her, but that's exactly what
she'd expected. She grabbed his shoulders and dug in with her
fingernails, knowing he'd like it. He released her thighs and
shoved forward to enter her, but she scratched his chest, pushing
him back. She wanted to play with him a little longer.

"Fight me all you like, baby," he hissed.
"I'll get what I want."

"I will too." She laughed and squeezed his
cock between her thighs.

He groaned and dropped his face on her
throat. Would sex always be a power struggle between them? She
shuddered as his teeth sank into her shoulder.
Ooo... I hope
so.
She'd won last time; this victory belonged to him.

She spread her legs and he lost his balance,
falling on top of her as his cock slammed in deep. "Oh God,
yes!"

He propped himself up on his elbows, but when
she moaned and reached for him, he let her pull his body down
again, driving into her hot slick flesh. She gasped and begged for
more, pushing her thighs apart with his knees, spreading her legs
as far as they would go. Grabbing her knees and pinning them to the
bed, Jack ground down on her clit, driving his cock into her hot
tight flesh.

"Oh. Oh yes!" She hissed and squirmed,
rubbing her exposed and vulnerable clit against him.

"Ah fuck, woman." He growled into her hair,
rising up to kiss her. "I warned you what would happen."

"Yes you did. Oh shit!" She came without
warning, knocking him flat on her chest. His wicked words sent her
plunging down a waterfall, cascading headfirst into a deep blue
pool of pleasure that left her gasping for breath. She loved the
feel of his weight crushing her, his sweat dripping on her. She
wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles behind his
ass. "You're not finished with me yet."

"Not even close." Jack kept up his pace and
steady rhythm until she tightened around him again, then grabbed
her wrists and pinned them above her head, lifting her breasts and
pulling her nipples tight.

She sucked in her breath as he touched the
tip of his tongue to her nipples, and braced her hands against the
headboard while grinding down on his cock—biting her lip when he
moaned. His cock throbbed inside her. She pulled one of her hands
free and grabbed his hair, lifting his head, kissing him, thrusting
her tongue into his mouth, matching the thrusts of his cock.

***

Soft... so soft and warm and... mine.
Finally mine!
He told himself not to think.
Just feel.
Feel her thighs part just enough to slip his cock between them,
teasing her—teasing them both. She struggled and he groaned. If she
really wanted to get away from him, she could, but her resistance
was just sex play.

He shuddered and groaned and tried to hold
back, but her tongue did things no man could expect to endure. Fire
shot through him and he ripped from her grasp, collapsing and
moaning all the nasty things he wanted to do to her while she
wrapped her body around him and stroked his hair.

He nuzzled her neck, planting little kisses
just below her ear. "Are you gonna listen to me next time?"

"Never."

He smiled and kissed her defiant mouth.
"Good."

***

Jack looked over Sara's shoulder at the
clock. Tuesday morning. Prentiss would be buried today.
Good.
He closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him.

He'd put the past behind him, told Sara all
his secrets, and the man who'd caused him and his mom so much pain
was dead. So why did he feel the need to do something else?

Go to the funeral.

No, that couldn't be it.
Something
else.
But as hard as he tried to avoid it, his thoughts always
came back to the funeral.

'You need to mourn the things he took from
you.'

He'd cried in Sara's arms. Wasn't that
enough? Going to that damn funeral wouldn't make him feel any
different. His mother planned to go, to make sure Prentiss was
dead, but Prentiss had been dead to him for a very long time.

His grandpa would be there for his grandma.
Ben had said he should be there for his mother, but her new husband
could take care of her, so Jack didn't feel....

He didn't feel.

He rolled on his back and stared up at the
ceiling. The wall built up again. How could he be a good coach or a
good guidance counselor if he couldn't face his own emotions? How
could he love Sara the way she deserved to be loved if his heart
remained closed-off and cold?

No getting away from it.
I have to go to
that asshole's funeral.
Maybe then he could close the casket on
his past and face the future without fear. Maybe after he'd buried
all his pain, he could experience joy and love the way he should
have all this time. Maybe it wouldn't do a damn bit of good, but he
couldn't spend the rest of his life wondering what if. He had to
go.