Home To You (15 page)

Jax grabbed her forgotten, half-filled wineglass and the bottle of Chianti and hit the table, prepared to grovel. He set her wineglass in front of her and took a seat, to find she’d already put three big pieces on his plate. His mouth watered, but he waited to eat. He’d be damned if he’d ruin the dinner she’d slaved over.

Shit, he hated groveling even more than apologizing, because in order to really grovel, you had to apologize too—something else his father had taught him. Unfortunately, he didn’t listen when his dad told him never to comment on a woman’s cooking, except to say it was wonderful. What the hell had he been thinking? Hadn’t he told himself she wasn’t the type to buy prepared food?

Jax cleared his throat. “Kendall.” He waited until she looked at him; it took a second. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just didn’t think anyone, even you, could throw together a homemade pizza in the time it took me to finish the roof. Actually, except for you, I’ve never seen anyone make one worth eating. Thanks for cooking.” He held his breath as she watched him, as if she were trying to decide if she should let him live.

She must have ruled in his favor, because she shot him a smile and picked up her first piece. “It’s okay. I might be a little oversensitive about my pizza.” She looked away, but he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. Why would anyone who cooked as well as she did be sensitive about it? He and every other man he knew would give their right arms to have food like this on a daily basis.

Kendall tipped her head back and closed her eyes as she slid a slice between her lips. She bit down and let out a groan that sounded as if it should come from the bedroom, not the dining room—that is, unless they were both naked. Her eyes flew open and met his. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks.

Jax took a sip of his wine. Kendall looked and sounded as if he’d caught her in the throes of an orgasm. Without breaking eye contact, she took a napkin and swiped off a string of cheese hanging from her chin. “Sorry, but I’ve forgotten how incredible my pizza is. I haven’t made it in ages.”

“Why the hell not?” He reached for a piece, and she watched as he took a bite. And oh, God, he couldn’t blame her—this pizza was definitely groan-worthy.

“David didn’t appreciate eating with his hands, or the calorie count. He ate pizza with a fork and a knife, if you can believe that.” She was lost in thought for a moment and then shuddered. “God, I almost married a Ken doll.”

He shot her a quizzical look but didn’t bother asking. After all, his mouth was full.

“You know, Barbie and Ken? He was an overly orange tool who looked pretty but had no sense of humor. No wonder Barbie dumped him for G.I. Joe.”

He couldn’t help but grin and hold up his wineglass in her honor. “Well, that’s certainly good to hear. See? I told you it wouldn’t take that long before you realized he did you a favor.”

“I guess you’re right.” Since he’d made room on his plate, Kendall, who, he realized, had a thing about making sure he ate vegetables, put a huge scoop of salad on it. He was relieved when she laughed at the look he shot her that told her in no uncertain terms that he had no intention of eating salad when there was perfectly good pizza within reach.

“If you think the pizza is good, just wait until you get a load of my Caesar salad.”

He didn’t say anything; he just kept eating, and tried to figure out what the hell to do about the fact that there was only one bed fit to sleep on. His mattress obviously had taken the brunt of the leak, as it was soaked through and weighed a ton. There was no way in hell anyone was going to sleep on that.

“Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“No.”

“Do it anyway.”

He put down his half-eaten slice and leaned forward. “This two-bedroom cabin just turned into a one bedroom, and the couch is too small for either of us to sleep on.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing that queen bed sleeps two.”

He let out an exasperated breath. “Kendall, I can’t share a bed with you.”

She swatted the thought away as if it were of no more annoyance than a housefly. “Sure you can. There’s plenty of room.”

“There’s not a big enough bed on the planet for the two of us to sleep in—not if you want to get any rest.”

Her mouth formed a surprised O—but that surprise quickly turned to disappointment. “That wouldn’t be a problem for me, but you obviously don’t feel the same.” She thought a moment, and then her face brightened. “I know—I’ll go stay with Jaime. He has plenty of room, and I’m pretty sure he won’t mind.”

“Like hell you will.” He stood up so fast his damn chair tipped back and hit the floor. He planted his hands on the table and leaned in so close, their noses almost touched.

“You know, you’re wearing the same expression you wore when you warned me about inviting you into the shower, and your voice has that same dark, deep tone that brings to mind things I’ve only read about in
Fifty Shades
.” She swallowed and licked her lips. “I never found dominance sexy until now. But it doesn’t mean I want to call you sir or anything.”

“Shit, Kendall, are you trying to kill me?” He’d never gotten into bondage before, but the vision of Kendall tied to his bed, wearing nothing but a satin gown, shot his blood pressure through the roof and his sent his dick searching his jeans for an escape route.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d know it. No, I’m trying to be the rational adult here. I’ll be kind just this once and ignore the fact that you seem to think you have any right to tell me where and with whom I should sleep.”

He picked up his chair and sat, wondering if he’d survive the rest of the conversation with that damn image of Kendall tied to his bed rattling around his brain.

“You don’t want to sleep with me—”

He held up his hand interrupting her. “I never said that.” He was going straight to hell; he was sure of it. “The problem is that I do want to sleep with you.”

She didn’t say anything; she just raised a disbelieving brow.

“Okay, that’s not entirely accurate. If I shared a bed with you, I could pretty much guarantee that neither of us would sleep for a long, long, long time. Maybe days.”

She sucked in a breath, her skin turned an incredible shade of pink, and her eyes darkened. “Let me see if I have this right.” He was surprised her voice was so calm and level; still, it was different, deeper and raspier, and it seemed to send a message to his body that bypassed his brain. “You want to have sex with me, and I want to have sex with you, but because of some manly code of honor or perhaps a lack of trust in my ability to run my own life, you won’t allow it.” She looked at him for confirmation or denial, but got neither. She’d rendered him speechless—a first. “And yet you don’t want me to sleep at Jaime’s for fear of what—that I’ll jump the first man I see?”

If she was going for the shock factor, she was succeeding spectacularly. He cleared his throat to make sure his voice would work. “No, of course not.” He got up and paced the length of the room and turned back. “Kendall, I can’t imagine any straight man not wanting to be with you. I don’t trust myself around you, so why in the hell would I trust Jaime?”

She stepped closer. “You’re exasperating.”

“And you’re not?”

“You don’t suffer from brain damage; you suffer from sheer, unadulterated stubbornness. Now listen and listen good. I don’t want Jaime. I want you. I like you, when you’re not being a chauvinist pig. I think you’re sexy as all get-out, with and without a tool belt, and you’re sweet and kind and smart. Do you think that if I can’t have you, I’ll hop into bed with the first man I see because of some deep-seated fear of being alone?”

“You’re not afraid of being alone, Kendall. I’m just not sure you know what you want in a man or a relationship so soon after ending one that lasted almost half your life.”

She looked like she was either going to throttle him or kiss him, and, frankly, he’d prefer being choked.

“I’ve always known what I wanted—that hasn’t changed. I just wasn’t smart enough to see that the man I was with lied to me about wanting the same thing.”

Okay, he’d give her that. “Fine. But, sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not a good bet.” He took her hand. “Come on over here and sit down.”

He was surprised she complied. He sat her on the couch and held her hands in his as he turned the coffee table into a chair. “I don’t know what I’m able to give to a relationship now. If we were to get together that way, it could end badly. I care about you, and I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Jack. I like you. I want to spend time with you. I want to feel the way I did when I kissed you. I’ve never felt that way before. What in the hell are you so afraid of?”

Jax’s breath froze in his lungs, and his adrenaline spiked, sending his heart drumming like the Energizer Bunny on crack. He didn’t look at her; instead he stared
at their joined hands. “I’m afraid my brain is stuck like this, and I’m afraid of you—what I feel for you. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know how to control it, and not being in control scares the shit out of me.” He snuck a glance, and she didn’t look at all put off. “Kendall, I’ve changed. I’m not the same person I was before the accident. I knew where I was going then. I had a plan—a plan that just exploded in my face. I don’t know what my life will look like a week, a month, or a year from now.”

“So? I’m not the same person I was before David dumped me either. I know the person you are now, and I really like you. You know me, and you really like me too. Can’t that be enough?”

“What if it’s not?”

She leaned back and studied him in a way that made all the hair on his arms stand on end. “I don’t know who hurt you, and I’m not going to ask, but I’m sorry.”

Heart-pounding, sweat-soaking, jaw-breaking fear raced through him, the kind of fear you feel when you can’t breathe, when you’re trapped and can’t get out, when you have to escape or you’ll blow. He took one breath and let it out slowly, ruthlessly ignoring the urge to run. “No one hurt me.”

She didn’t buy it. “Maybe not intentionally, but you’ve lost someone you loved a lot. Opening yourself up to someone new can be terrifying.”

“Are you charging by the hour?”

“No, it’s what I’ve told myself every day since David walked out. Just because one man hurt me doesn’t mean they all will.”

He looked at her then and leaned forward, dropping
her hand but resting his on her thighs. “Kendall, I never want to hurt you.”

“And I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m willing to take a chance on getting my heart stomped on to feel like this one more time.” She leaned into him and kissed him.

Kendall might have initiated their kiss, but he’d be damned if this time he wasn’t going to take at least half the credit for it. This time, he wasn’t too stunned to react. This time, he was the one on top.

Then he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, because the couch wasn’t nearly big enough for what he had in mind.

K
endall knew a lot of strong people. Her years working with kids who had cancer made sure of that. She’d seen her share of patients with trauma—she knew all the signs—and for a moment there, Jack had exhibited all the symptoms of a man on the edge.

She’d held her breath and watched him pull himself out of the deep, dark hole of desolation she’d unknowingly ushered him into. He was terrified, he was wounded, and yet he stayed and overcame it.

People rarely surprised her, but Jack had. She’d never seen anyone with the control he had to compartmentalize whatever trauma he’d suffered—and it was trauma, of that she was sure—and move on as if nothing had happened. If she hadn’t spent an inordinate amount of time studying him, if she hadn’t been trained to see the signs, she might have missed it. She was sure he’d fooled a lot of people before her—even professionals. He was just that good, but she was better. She saw the pain, the terror, the fear, and she’d heard the denial as he slammed the steel door down on that part of himself.

She didn’t know who or what had hurt him, but something had, and he had gaping open wounds that he
ignored. He had learned to navigate life normally, but that didn’t change the fact that they existed. And she’d bet her degree that trauma was the reason he’d avoided a physical relationship with her. It was also the reason that, except for the accident, she knew so little about him.

Then she kissed him, or maybe he kissed her—she wasn’t sure. In the kiss all those feelings he’d held in check, all the terror and the fear, the pain and loss were exposed. It was in the dampness at his hairline, the tremor of his lips when they brushed hers, the tension radiating off him, and the hammering of his heart. She felt it all, and when he pulled away, breathless, and looked into her eyes, she saw the moment of surrender.

The kiss that followed held none of the desperation, none of the urgency. It was like going from a raging typhoon into a calm, clear, sheltered lagoon. Gentle waves of pleasure surrounded her, warmed her, lifted her, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that she hadn’t imagined it. Jack held her in his arms like a movie star and carried her down the short hall to their room. He stopped at the threshold, and she found herself staring into his clear blue eyes.

“Kendall, you’re sure about this? About me?”

“Totally and completely sure.” So sure it scared her. She’d never felt such certainty at a time where there was absolutely no proof, no validity, no reason to feel so confident. Kendall heard her mother’s voice in her head saying the same thing she’d said a million times: “Remember, Kendall, to always follow your heart.” And that, she realized, was what she’d been doing since the second she’d seen Jack standing beside her car. She might end up with it broken, but, then, what was the good in having a heart if you never gave it a workout?

She had gotten lost in his eyes again, something she did on a regular basis, and didn’t realize they’d moved until she felt the bed beneath her. She wasn’t sure how he managed that—she wasn’t a small woman. There was no groaning, no jerking, just solid strength and fluid movement and stillness. Then the bed dipped beside her, and she saw nothing but Jack.

He lifted the hem of her sweater and slid his finger along the gap between her tank and jeans.

She reached to rip off her sweater and shirt in one fell swoop, but he stilled her. “Slowly. We have days and days. There’s no rush.”

Her heart hammered in her chest, but the look in his eyes, the banked passion she saw there, made her still, made her breathe, made her anticipate.

Jack was obviously in the driver’s seat on this little voyage, so she lay back, determined to enjoy the ride. He slid her sweater up and over her head.

The cool air hit her bare arms and breasts through the light fabric of her tank and lace bra, but then his eyes roamed over the same area, warming and tantalizing her skin like a touch.

He laid her back against the pillow and slid his work-roughened finger down the inside of her arm to her hand. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed her palm before raking his teeth over the spot and then soothing it with his tongue. With his every touch sparks flew up her arm and scattered through her breasts and to her core.

He kissed the tip of her index finger and then slid his tongue up to the fleshy spot between her fingers and sucked.

She didn’t bother holding in her moan; she’d never known that her hand was so sensitive.

He teased her fingers, kissing, nipping, licking until she squirmed.

Heat pooled in her core, and her breathing grew shallow. When he drew her finger into his mouth and sucked, she nearly came off the bed. “Jack.”

His eyes met hers, and what she saw there—the want, the hunger, the need—would have brought her to her knees if she’d been standing. “Slow.” He murmured against her wrist and proceeded to kiss and lick and nip his way up her arm, igniting every nerve on the way to her shoulder, and then bypassed her neck entirely. “I love the way you taste, your scent, your heat.”

He lifted her other hand and made love to it with his mouth, his teeth, his lips, hell, even his beard. He turned her into a moaning, quivering mess.

She ached for him, arching against him as he made his way to her shoulder and then down between her breasts, drawing her tank down to expose bare skin but not touching them. Leaving them aching.

She was burning up, and he’d hardly touched her.

He slid her tank higher so it rested just under her breasts. “Look at you. So beautiful.” He straddled her legs, caressing her waist, never stopping, spreading heat wherever he touched. He kissed and licked her stomach, and the rasp of his beard sent tremors through her, leaving her muscles trembling under his lips.

She arched her back, reaching for more contact, moaning, pleading, panting. And just when she didn’t think she could take any more, he slid his tongue into her navel, and, like a finger pulling a trigger, heat seared through her straight to her core, and she came, screaming his name.

She was not a screamer, but, then, she’d never been
teased like that before. She’d never been loved like that before. She’d never been controlled like that before.

She didn’t know what to do when, even after an orgasm, she shook with a need to touch him, to curl her body into his, to melt against him and feel his weight. “Jack, kiss me.”

His eyes met hers, and his lips curved into a conceited grin. “Oh, I have been.”

She reached down, grabbed ahold of his hair, and tugged him up higher. His lips met hers in the same instant her legs wrapped around his waist. She swallowed his groan and arched her back, and when his fly hit hers, she echoed the noise.

Jack dragged his mouth away from hers, and his breath fanned her face. “I wanted to make love to you slowly.” His voice was rough, but he wore a smile. “I knew I should have tied you up.”

She tugged up his T-shirt. “Next time.”

He grabbed it from behind and, kneeling over her, pulled it off.

He had the most incredible chest she’d ever seen. “God, you’re beautiful.” She ran her hands over him, making his muscles spasm under her touch.

Jack was all tanned skin and sinewy muscle, with the well-defined pecs of a swimmer, not a bodybuilder. He had flat brown nipples just screaming for attention and a stomach she could do laundry on. She tugged the first button of his threadbare jeans and they all popped open, freeing his erection. “Oh, my.” She sucked in a breath and stared. It was huge. Not that she had much to compare it to. Either David was really lacking, or Jack could double as a porn star. She’d definitely pay money to see a movie with Jack in it.

Under her gaze, his erection seemed to grow before her eyes, and it moved and pulsed. A drop of liquid appeared on the slit, and she couldn’t help it: she licked her lips.

“Kendall.” It was that warning tone all over again. His face looked as if it had been chiseled from granite, and the muscles in his neck stood out.

The word
yes
came out on a moan. She reached out with her index finger, the same finger he’d sucked on a lifetime ago, and smoothed the liquid over the head.

Every muscle in his body tensed, and a breath hissed between his teeth. “It’s not too late, you know.”

“For what?”

“To tie you up.”

She wrapped her fingers around his girth and felt smooth skin move over hot steel before giving it an experimental squeeze and earning a groan for her effort.

He mumbled something she thought might have been a prayer, or quite possibly a curse. It was hard to tell.

Strong hands grabbed both her wrists and pulled them up over her head. One hand held them in place, and the other tugged her bra and tank up under her chin. Jack dipped his head, and a talented tongue slid over a peaked nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth, while his free hand drew lazy circles around the opposite breast. With every tug of his mouth, she grew more restless, fighting his grip on her wrists, arching her back, and praying he’d do something to relieve the ache building within her. Praying he’d take her shirt off.

She was just about to curse his very name when he pulled her tank and bra over her head and then tugged on the button of her jeans. The zipper slid down, seemingly of its own accord. She raised her hips, thanking God she’d chosen her loosest pair.

He rubbed his cheek against the distended nipple of one breast—he was such a tease. “Now, if I let go of your wrists, do you promise to be good and keep them there? You’re going to need to hold on to the headboard.”

“Only if you promise to make it worth my while.”

He slid his mouth to her ear. “No worries there, sweetheart.” Jack freed her wrists and waited until she grabbed the headboard before giving her a kiss that ended too soon. He shot her his warning look that promised retribution if she misbehaved, which did nothing but tempt her. But a moment later, her pants and panties were tugged off, and she got lost in his eyes again.

Jack sat back on his heels, and his gaze slid over her with such intensity and heat it felt like a touch.

Any thoughts of misbehaving flew right out the window. If he kept looking at her like that, she’d do just about anything he asked.

“Damned if you’re not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He kissed her long and slow and thoroughly, a kiss so full of promise, it brought tears to her closed eyes.

The overhead light shone on his blond hair and caught the blue of his eyes as he nudged her thighs apart and kissed his way down the column of her neck, between her breasts, and lower. His warm breath washed over her mound. She’d never had anyone look at her the way Jack did, like she was a delicacy and he a starving man. She thought she’d feel embarrassment, but if it was there, the excitement she felt overshadowed it. He kissed the insides of her thighs and licked her, separating her swollen and aching center. The tip of his tongue pressed against the tight bundle of nerves, and she sucked in a breath, feeling the pressure of something growing, heating, building. Then he slid a finger into her, filling her, twisting,
stretching, sliding deep, and then retreating. His tongue never stopped licking and teasing, thrumming against her. So many sensations that she was drowning in feeling, reaching and climbing so high, she wasn’t sure there was enough oxygen. A second finger slid in; it was too tight, but then he sucked, drawing her into his mouth and curling his fingers, hitting that perfect spot from the inside that sent her flying.

Waves of pleasure rolled over, crashed around her, and stole her breath. It was too much, but he released the suction and soothed it with the flat of his tongue, all the while filling her with his fingers, going deeper with every pass, harder, faster, filling her until she burned. So deep she swore he’d touched her womb. But even the little bit of pain increased her pleasure, adding layer upon layer of feeling as one orgasm rolled into something so much more.

*

Jax had never been so nervous in his life. Not even his first time. But, then, his first time hadn’t been with an inexperienced girl. Avery hadn’t been that much older than him, but she was no girl; she was a woman, and she was a connoisseur of sex. She had turned out to be an excellent teacher, and he had been a most willing student. She’d taught him almost everything he knew about pleasuring a woman’s body, and he knew a lot. He had that part down; it was just the emotional connection he had problems with.

Kendall was so small and tight that even after three orgasms, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt her. And he didn’t know how, after holding back for days, if he’d be able to cling to his control.

He kept her balanced on the edge of orgasm, drawing her higher and higher. Each one stronger than the last. She’d opened her body to him, her heart, her mind. Good thing he’d perfected the one-handed condom application, because if he stopped, if he lost contact, she’d fall away, and he didn’t want to lose her, lose this.

“Kendall, look at me.”

Her eyes slid open and focused on his—dark and dreamy and so unguarded, so trusting, so sweet.

He kissed her, making love to her mouth as he slipped his fingers from within her. Tilting her hips and blowing out a breath, he slid the head of his erection inside her. He groaned and forced himself to stop when all he wanted to do was thrust into her, to claim her, to possess her, to pleasure her. Shit, she brought his inner caveman to the surface. His jaw clenched, his temple throbbed, and damned if his vision didn’t blur.