Breaking Bad (18 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T
iki torches softly illuminated the lagoon-style pool and the woman frantically swimming laps in it. Rock and roll played in the background. Steam swirled from the spa. It had been a sweltering day in the valley. The ambient temp couldn’t be less than eighty-five degrees and it was already after nine.

The urge to shuck his clothes and join Stevie was strong, but Jack didn’t move a muscle in her direction. She’d tapped out. It was their “Stop” signal from the very beginning if he got too rough with her. He would not disrespect her by ignoring it. Except…

Just by being here he was disrespecting her line in the sand. But he needed to explain why he’d rejected her. Why he’d pulled away. Right. Because explaining it all to her would make him feel better about fucking with her heart?

God, he was a selfish bastard. It was time he put someone else’s feelings ahead of his own.

He was about to leave when, like Venus rising from the surf, Stevie stepped out of the pool. He stopped. His body tightened. Blood surged to his dick.

She was naked save for the anklet she wore. Water sluiced in smooth waves down her body, which shimmered in the flickering firelight, licks of light playing hide-and-seek with her generous curves.

He swallowed hard, wanting her with a need so violent it stifled his breathing. She stood at the beach entrance, smoothing her long wet hair back from her face. Sweet Jesus, her breasts, firm and ripe, the nipples pebbled, jutted out and up in the balmy air, begging to be touched. Her concave belly glistened under the firelight. His gaze traveled lower to her soft mound and the light thatch of damp curls shielding her sweet lips. His dick thickened with a fresh infusion of blood.

Desperation the likes of which he had never experienced crashed through him. It was a “Last Supper” kind of desperation. A famished, starving kind of desperation. A
do or die without
kind of desperation.

She was everything to him. Giving, loyal, intelligent, badass, and she loved him.

Ryker was right.

He was an asshole. Because only an asshole would have walked out of this magnificent woman’s life.
Twice
.

Stevie turned from him so that he had an unobstructed view of her back and Jack’s erection tightened. He wanted to trail his fingers, then his lips, along the smooth curve of her back down to the twin dimples just above her heart-shaped ass. And what a sweet ass she had. It drew taut as she bent down to pick up her towel.

“No, baby, no,” he whispered. “Don’t cover yourself.”

He blew a sigh of relief when she just blotted her face and body with it. As she sauntered toward a double-wide lounge chair, her hips swaying and those dimples on her ass tormenting him, he groaned and pushed down on his unruly cock.

Spreading the towel down on the chaise, she sat down. The torch behind the lounger illuminated her damp skin. He swallowed hard again, finding his reaction to her impossible to control. When she picked up a bottle of lotion and began to rub some into her legs and belly he realized he was panting like a dog. But when she started to rub the lotion into her lush tits, he heard her gasp. When she laid back and arched as she stroked her hard nipples, he just about came in his pants.

Like a fish out of water, he gulped for breath. He realized he couldn’t stand there forever like a Peeping Tom. Being a man of action, he made his move.

When her hand slid down her taut belly to her sweet mound, and he heard his name, Jack stopped cold.

Breathless, he waited as she lay rigid and still, as if her mind and body fought a colossal battle. He could relate. His hunger for her body was insatiable. As was the hunger he felt in his heart and his mind. He hadn’t lied when he told her he owned her. In Jack’s world that meant everything. Heart, mind, body, and soul. He hadn’t truly understood the totality of that until this moment in time.

Owning Stevie Cavanaugh was not for the faint of heart. It would require a strong hand that could be gentle. A pure heart that would love unconditionally. And a passionate body to challenge and cherish in bed, and out. He was that man.

Air expelled from his lungs. Hell, he didn’t own Stevie, because no man could. But damned if she didn’t own him.

Whatever caused her initial hesitation was set aside. His chest inflated when her fingers strummed her clit. He knew it would be hard and responsive. Slick with her juice. Her scent alluring. He doubted she was aware of how naturally sensual she was. Another thing he loved about her. She didn’t flaunt her sexuality. She didn’t have to. It was a silent siren’s call few men could resist. He’d never been immune from it.

She moaned, tipping her knees a little further apart as her hand slid between her thighs. Her succulent tits poked the air, the nipples straining against those little gold rings that still caused him to shake his head in pleasant surprise. The nipple rings and her short red nails were Stevie’s only tells. Her still waters ran very deep.

Transfixed, he stood and watched her shimmering silhouette undulate to the deep passionate beat of Journey’s “Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’.” When she arched, climaxing, he swore he heard her curse him to hell and back. He grinned. Oh, she was going to curse him, all right.

The second Stevie heard the soft whistle of the motion detector she’d armed along the side yard, she grabbed her Sig from beneath the magazine on the end table by her chaise and turned, training it on the intruder’s chest.

“Bang, bang, you’re dead, Thorn,” she said caustically, trying to hide her surprise and embarrassment. Had he seen her in the throes of her masturbating? It didn’t matter.

He was the last person she expected to walk back into her life. She’d tapped out. She’d spent the last several hours trying to exhaust him out of her body and mind. The heavy bag, the treadmill, the laps, and her self-perpetrated orgasm had tapped her body, but her heart was going to take much longer to recover. It would happen, though, because after all he had put her through since walking back into her life less than a week ago, she truly hated him now. Jack Thornton was a selfish, bullying egomaniac. She wanted nothing to do with him on any level.

Halting his approach, he slowly raised his hands, acknowledging the gun pointed at him. “I come in peace.”

She cocked a brow and gave him some swivel head attitude. She didn’t care how he came, she just wanted him gone. “I don’t see you bearing any peace offerings, so unless you want to be shot for trespassing, I suggest you turn around and get off my property.”

“I’ll go, but before I do, I need to talk to you.”

“How does it feel to need, Thorn?”

“Scary.”

His response surprised her. “I hope it hurts like a motherfucker. Now—” She motioned with the barrel of her gun for him to retreat. “Make sure to latch the gate on your way out.”

She lay back on the lounger, making no attempt to cover her nakedness. In fact, she smiled and rolled over to her side so that he got a good long look at what he’d never have again.

“I don’t hear you leaving.”

“I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”

“Still a bully. Still indifferent to what I want.”

“And you still think you don’t need anyone?”

“You’ve proven that I have bad instincts when it comes to picking someone to need.” She shrugged. “And I thank you for that, because I’m good with me. I can depend on Stevie Cavanaugh. Stevie Cavanaugh I can trust. Stevie Cavanaugh won’t lie to me or hurt me. I’m all I need.”

“You need me.”

“You have a lot of gall to come in here and say that to me after all you’ve done. What is it, Jack? Do you get off hurting me?”

“No,” he hoarsely whispered. “But I know you, and you need me.”

She didn’t need him. Sliding the nine beneath the lounger, Stevie flipped over onto her back, mentally forcing the emotion gathering in her chest to settle. Closing her eyes, she crossed her arm over her forehead and eyes. Her nipples tightened. Even done as they were, her body still reacted to his presence. Probably would until she was laid to rest. And damn if she was going to cover herself.

“Think whatever makes you happy, Jack. But think it somewhere else. I’m trying to relax here.”

He took a step closer. “I need you, too, Stevie. You’re as vital to me as oxygen.”

Her heart slammed against her ribcage. She must have misheard.

“God help me, I need you,” he said again, stepping closer.

He’d said it again. Did he truly mean it? She didn’t want it to be true, because she would let him in if it was and she could not bear another fall. When she didn’t stay him, he stopped at the side of the lounger. “Can I sit down next to you?” he asked.

Without looking at him, she said, “No. Pull up a chair and don’t touch me.” If touched, she would cave and allow his words to get to her. She didn’t want that. Not again.

When he had grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the edge of the lounger, he said, “Look at me, Stevie. Please.”

She didn’t want to. She didn’t know what to do with this quiet, serious Jack. She didn’t trust him.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave him a fierce stare. “You have five minutes to say what you have to say, and then I want you to leave.”

He nodded, then said, “I don’t want us to be apart. I want us to try and work us out.”

“You promised me you would do everything in your power not to break my heart. You broke it. Again. I’m done.”

Jack dropped his head and shook his head. “Do you know why I was at the Academy and not on the street when you blew in seven years ago?” he asked, looking up at her.

Steve shrugged. She’d heard rumors about his recruit being killed. She’d never asked him about it because she’d felt it wasn’t her place to. “I figured you requested it or were assigned.”

“Both.”

“Okay.”

“Four months before you set foot in the Academy, my rookie was killed. She was killed because I wasn’t there for her. She was my responsibility; her blood is on my hands. It tore me up. So bad, I walked into my LT’s office and handed him my badge. He wouldn’t take it. He told me to take some time off the street and he sent me to ALCO.” There was no denying the pain in his eyes as he relived it. “I promised Joan Schillner I would protect her. She’s dead.” He grabbed her hands. She didn’t pull them away. “I made a promise to you, too, Stevie. The thought of losing you is unbearable. I choked when I saw what Spoltori did to Miss Schillner. How close he came to doing the same thing to you. I took the cowardly way out. I pushed you away because I was afraid of losing you.” He brought her hand to his lips. “But I can’t live without you. I don’t want to. I never wanted to.”

Swallowing hard, Stevie sat still and quiet. She was afraid to speak. Afraid she was dreaming.
I can’t live without you.
Never had she expected to hear those words out of Jack Thornton’s mouth. He was a one-man wrecking crew. A badass cop who struck fear in the hearts of the baddest of the bad. He didn’t need anyone. But he needed her. He couldn’t live without her. He didn’t need anyone any more than she didn’t.

Her belly quivered nervously.

“Say something,” he whispered. It was there in his voice, something she had never heard out of Jack: fear.

“What do you want me to say?”
She
didn’t know what to say. She was torn. How easily he had moved her heart from soundly shut to hopeful. The devil on her shoulder told her she was a fool. She’d been bitten twice. Once should have been enough. The angel swooned, reveling in the possibilities.

“That you can’t live without me. That you need me.” He moved to the edge of the lounger and pulled her to him. He lowered his lips to hers. “That you want me.” He brushed his lips across hers. “That you love me as much as I love you. That you’ll never look at another man.” He kissed her deeply, then said against her lips, “That you want to grow old with me.”

“Jack,” she breathed, realizing their lives, though similar, were worlds apart. “It won’t work.”

“We’ll make it work.”

“What happens when you get scared again?”

“I’ll turn to you to help me through it.”

“What about when you get reassigned?”

He stilled against her, and simply said, “If I can’t get assigned to a field office in the Bay Area, I’ll resign and go back to the Oakland PD.”

Her heart swelled painfully in her chest. “You would do that for me?”

“I would do anything for you.”

“I don’t think I can survive if you hurt me again, Jack.”

Cupping her face between his hands, his eyes softened. “I would rather die than hurt you again.”

Heat stung her eyes. Damn tears. The possibilities were boundless with a man willing to give up what he loved most for the woman he loved most. The devil on her shoulder shook his head in disgust and disappeared into the recesses of her mind while the angel smiled, hugging itself.
Yes, you did the right thing, now own it.

Stevie sniffed loudly, then whacked him in the chest. “If you even look like you’re going to run when it gets too hot for you, Jack Thornton, know that I will hunt you down and shoot you.”