Home To You (16 page)

“Jack?” her breathy voice had his balls drawing up. “Jack, I need you.” Then her hands came around him, drawing him closer. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she bucked against him, pulling him in, and when he retreated, her ankles tightened, stopping his withdrawal.

He pressed in closer, moving slowly, hanging on to the last threads of his control.

“Jack, please. I need—”

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

Her dark eyes opened and her stare drilled into him, her nails dug into his shoulders, and her legs tightened like a vise around his hips. “I need you. I need all of you.”

His control snapped and he thrust into her. He heard her cry out, but couldn’t stop. Every stroke drew him closer, deeper, and farther toward the edge, and she met him thrust for thrust. She was demanding, dragging his
mouth to hers, sucking on his tongue and raking her teeth over it.

Kendall went wild in his arms, completely open, completely uninhibited, completely his. Her body spasmed around him, dragging him into the abyss, guiding him as he flew and catching him when he landed.

Jax concentrated on breathing, the sound of Kendall’s heart racing beneath his ear, and the caress of her hand sliding hypnotically over his shoulders and down his back in soft, fluid patterns. He knew he should roll over—he was probably crushing her—but he was loath to break the connection; once he did, it would disappear like it had never existed. He’d lose the feeling of wonder and wholeness. He’d never felt whole before. But in this moment, he was complete, stable, happy. Oh, fuck, he was happy.

*

So that’s what she’d been missing. Kendall had half a mind to send David a nasty text—or her condolences. She wondered what else was different with Jack. Other than the obvious: the man could ring her bell without even taking off her panties. David couldn’t ring it if she’d held it out for him and showed him where to put the mallet.

She lay beneath Jack, loving the weight of his big, hard body covering hers, and the fact he was still inside her and seemingly content to stay right there. He wasn’t rolling out of bed to shower or wash up, as if trying to erase any evidence of her on him.

Her hands slid over his shoulders and down his back, exploring, learning, caressing. She’d wondered if he was asleep. And then every muscle in his entire body seized. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He pushed himself up, taking his weight on his forearms, and slid deeper inside her. Her inner muscles tightened around him, and heat surged through her.

Jack closed his eyes and kissed her like he was searching for something, desperately demanding a response to an unasked question. Her mind knew something was wrong, but her body didn’t get the memo. Neither, it seemed, did his. He reached down, raising her thigh to his hip, changed the angle of penetration, and slid deeper. His pelvic bone hit that perfect spot, and she bucked against him.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he could go for hours. This time, though, he didn’t make eye contact. It felt as if he were intentionally avoiding it. The distance scared her. “Jack.”

A sheen of sweat rose on his chest and back, and he drove her on but didn’t answer.

“Jack, please. Look at me.”

His eyes met hers and she saw a flash of panic; then he blinked and it was gone. He held her gaze and thrust into her to the hilt and stilled. His erection pulsed, sending little sparks cascading through her. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“You. I want all of you.” Even the parts of him he hid from the world—she wanted them. She never wanted him to hide from her.

“That’s a damn good thing, because, Kendall, you already have me. The good, the bad, and the damaged.” He brushed the hair off her forehead and kissed each eyelid, then her nose and the corners of her mouth before tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue.

He loved her slowly, holding her gaze as if he were
afraid to blink. He drove her up with a swivel of his hips and unerring aim and held her there, riding the edge of the wave until he sent her flying higher yet, and then buried his face in her neck and let go.

She lay in his arms and listened to his heart slow.

“Be right back.” He gave her a quick kiss and rolled out of bed and walked naked to the bathroom to take care of the condom. She enjoyed the show, because she’d never seen a more beautiful man.

He slid back in beside her, wearing nothing but a smirk. “Like what you see?”

“Yes.”

Jack pulled her closer so they lay on their sides facing each other.

Her mind raced as his hand slid soothingly up and down from her shoulder to her hip. Mesmerizing. Everything she thought she’d known about sex had been wrong. Questions flew through her mind. Was it that David was horrible lover, or was it just that Jack was amazing? Could it be both? Was there something about Jack—a chemical reaction—that made her hot, or was it just David that shot her into the subzero range?

“You’re awfully quiet. It’s not a natural state for you. Having second thoughts?”

After just having the best, most intense, most intimate sex of her life? Hardly. “Second thoughts about you and me? No, absolutely not.” She pushed him onto his back and pulled herself up on his chest so she could see his face.

“But you’re upset about something.” He shoved his arm under his head, and she wanted to trace the line of muscle with her tongue. He ran the pad of a thumb across her bottom lip, and she wondered if he had somehow
rewired her body so his every touch sent shock waves directly to her core. “You always bite your lip when you’re trying to figure something out or you’re upset. Oh, and that death glare you have is pretty scary too.”

She raised a doubting brow. “I don’t have a death glare.”

“Next time I see it I’ll take a picture. But I’ll do it from a distance. So, tell me why you’re biting your lip.”

She’d turned into a walking cliché. She was having her first was-it-good-for-you talk. But not. “Is it always like this?”

He pushed a pillow against the headboard and sat up in bed. “Is what always like this?”

Her face flamed hot enough to make s’mores. She didn’t know what to call what they had just done. Sex? Making love? Sleeping together? Bumping uglies?

“You’re pretty adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

When he laughed at her, Kendall hit him with a pillow.

Jack shot her a grin. “Thanks,” he said, and then shoved the pillow behind his back.

“You stole my pillow.”

“I didn’t steal it—I just kept it. You’re the one who gave it to me—no take backs. Now come here and get comfortable.” He pulled her between his open legs and leaned her back against his chest. “There, that’s better. This way we can talk, and I still have fun stuff to play with.”

“Fun stuff?”

“Every guy’s dream toys.” He slipped a hand beneath each breast and rubbed his thumbs over the nipples—nipples that stood at attention the second he touched them. “See? It’s like magic. You have beautiful breasts.”

“They’re not very big.” And they looked even smaller than usual in his big hands.

“They’re perfectly proportioned for your body.” He traced a figure eight around them with one hand. Over and over. His other hand toyed with her belly button. “So, back to your question. You need to be more specific.”

She was having a really hard time concentrating with Jack running his hands all over her body. “I don’t know what to label it. Sex? Making love? Whatever it is that we just did. Is it always like that?”

“For me? No, it’s never been like this.”

She let out a breath, and the tension bubbled away. Then she realized he hadn’t said it was good or bad, just different. And she’d sooner die than ask,
Was it good for you?
“How is it different?”

He was quiet—too quiet. Maybe he was trying to figure out a nice way to tell her she was a really bad lay. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she hummed the theme to
Jeopardy!
I’ll take difficult sexual conversations for a thousand, Alex.

Jack gave her boobs a squeeze and made a buzzer sound. “What is the difference between competing in the hundred-meter fly at a club meet and winning the gold at the Olympics?” He drew her closer, his lips brushing her ear and his beard rubbing against her shoulder. “All swim meets are alike—when you’re swimming the hundred fly in any meet, you’re doing the same stroke, the same distance—it’s the same thing. So, basically, there’s no difference when it comes to the act, but competing in the Olympics means so much more. It’s something you train for your whole life, something you dream about
from your first swim meet, and not just to compete, but to win the gold—it’s life-changing. Kendall, you’re my gold medal.”

And just like that, she tumbled head over heels, in deep with Jack. “Wow. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“So, what about you?” The tip of a callused finger circled her belly, and she remembered what happened earlier when he played with her navel. Her breathing sped up, and she had to fight both her embarrassment and her arousal. She had half a mind to carry on a conversation while playing with his dream toys and see how coherent his answers were.

She took a deep breath and pressed his hand to her belly, stilling it. “It’s never been like this for me either. But I can’t even say that it’s basically the same thing. It was so different, it would be like comparing curling to professional ice hockey. But I guess that only works if you’re like me and don’t understand curling at all. I mean, who would want to participate in a sport that combines shoving rocks around and cleaning?”

She felt the rumble of a chuckle through his chest into hers. “God, I spent the past seven years having appallingly bad sex, and I never even knew it. I just thought it was always forgettable and boring—either that, or I was frigid.”

He choked and coughed, then laughed and resumed his playtime activities. “Frigid? You? That’s hilarious.”

“Comparing sex with you to what I’ve known would be like comparing a Stanley Cup win to receiving a participation ribbon because you’re on the last-place team in the Pee-Wee Curling League.”

He blew out a breath that washed over her ear. “Wow,
that’s harsh.” The hand beneath hers slid south, close—so close all her stomach muscles tensed—but not touching.

She put more pressure on his hand to keep it from roaming. “How could I not have known? And now I’m wondering what else I’m completely clueless about. I’m questioning everything.”

“I’m sorry, but if it makes you feel better, I question everything too.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, like right now, I’m questioning what you’d do if I did this.” He slid his fingers down between her lips. Her hand pressed his harder against her body, at first to stop him and then to guide him. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, and the other hand strummed her nipple in time with his fingers. She would have answered him if she could speak: What is, Having my sixth orgasm, Alex?

J
ax watched Kendall sleep and thought of all the ways he’d completely and royally fucked up. He should have told her who the hell he was the second he’d met her. But he knew if he’d done that, she’d never have given him the chance to redeem himself in her eyes—which had been his grand plan. Well, that and keep her with him so she didn’t let anyone know he was here.

As it was, he still didn’t know what he’d done that made her despise him, but whatever it was, he didn’t think it would be easily overcome. Kendall was one of the most stubborn women on the planet. She’d obviously gotten that particular personality trait from her father.

Oh, man,
Teddy
. Jax’s normal headache expanded to fill his skull with pain—the kind of pain that made him want to sit alone in a dark room in the fetal position. He couldn’t even think about what Grace and Teddy would do to him if they found out he’d just had the time of his life debauching their youngest daughter, and couldn’t wait to do it again.

He knew he should have confessed all to Kendall before they’d made love. But if he had, she would have wanted to kill him. He’d seen her reaction when he
inferred she’d bought prepared food, and he couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him when she found out she’d been making love to the Grand Pooh-Bah himself. Whether or not he’d survive the experience really didn’t matter; in the end he’d still lose Kendall.

Jax knew what it was to lose almost everything you loved. Hell, fourteen years ago, he’d lost both his parents, his coach, his swim team, and his shot at the Olympic Trials, and had come way too close to losing his sister.

Oh yeah, he knew what loss felt like, what it tasted like, what it smelled like, and he knew how it could eat you from the inside out. He was on intimate terms with it, and he’d spent the past fourteen years avoiding ever having to meet the fucker again.

Somehow Kendall had changed things, and now history would repeat itself and he’d lose everything again. His career, his future, and his dream—Kendall. The fact he was going to lose her was pretty much a given; his only uncertainty was when.

In his rational mind, he knew nothing this perfect could last. Better to not even go there, avoid it at all cost. He’d spent the past fourteen years keeping his distance. He’d made a kind of art of it. He hadn’t met one person who tempted him enough to even consider bending the rules—until he’d looked into the red-rimmed, puffy eyes of Kendall Watkins.

He’d known that Kendall was different from the first second he’d spotted her crying in her car. Now he knew he should have sent her down to Jaime’s and let him deal with the fallout. Hell, he should have run to Jaime’s as soon as he’d seen the car and stayed the hell out of it. After all, he’d been in hiding. What the hell had he been thinking?

His gaze traced the outline of Kendall’s face relaxed
in sleep—she was so beautiful, seriously gorgeous on a purely physical level. But when he’d looked into those deep, dark, mysterious eyes, he hadn’t been strong enough to send her away. He’d wanted to protect her and keep her with him. He hadn’t planned to take advantage of her, but he’d be damned if he’d let anyone else have the opportunity. He saw how well that worked.

Kendall slid closer, and the sheet fell below her breasts. She had the look of someone who had been thoroughly loved and completely satisfied—lulled into a post-multiorgasmic stupor, and then she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. Her hair was a tangled mess, her cheeks were red from beard burn, her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her pale skin glowed pink in the light coming from the hall.

His time was running out. As much as he’d like to, Jax couldn’t keep Kendall in the cabin for the rest of their natural lives—if he could manage it, he would. But Kendall would find out the truth eventually—either when Grace and Teddy returned or as a result of Addie’s innate curiosity. He didn’t know when or how, but he knew the end result: Kendall would hate him.

She’d hate him for lying to her, hate him for who he was, and hate him for doing the same thing to her that her ex had, and he wouldn’t even blame her.

He was completely responsible, and when all was said and done, he’d do the one thing he’d never wanted to do to Kendall: he’d hurt her.

Since there was no way in hell he’d be able to sleep with a headache, he might as well go clean up the mess from dinner. His stomach growled, reminding him that mind-blowing sex always made him hungry. Maybe if he ate something, the headache would recede. It was worth a try.

He took one more look at Kendall, knowing that all too soon she’d be gone, then slid out of bed, threw on his jeans, and tiptoed out, closing the door behind him.

Cleaning up the dishes and kitchen was a breeze. All he had to do was finish eating the pizza and salad, which, he had to admit, was pretty good for something green and slightly wilted, and then put the dishes in the dishwasher. No fuss, no muss, and, in his eyes, a miracle.

He’d never seen anyone cook without the kitchen ending up looking like ground zero. His sister, Rocki, could make a mess just boiling water—he’d witnessed it. He didn’t know how Slater, Rocki’s fiancé, could stand it. Maybe he put a big Do Not Enter sign in the doorway of the kitchen. But if Slater felt about Rocki anywhere near what Jax felt for Kendall, he figured the fact that Rocki was the Terminator of kitchens and bars was just one of the things Slater loved about her.

Jax sat on the couch in the dark living room. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and had the urge to call his sister. They were close—closer than any other brother and sister he knew. She’d been the only person in the world that mattered to him—well, except for Grace and Teddy. That was, until he’d met Kendall. Kendall mattered. She mattered a whole lot. She mattered so much, it scared him.

He didn’t know what time it was; he didn’t even know what day of the week it was. He’d lost track. Rocki didn’t work Sundays and Mondays, and the rest of the week she and her band played from ten at night to two in the morning—that he remembered, he just didn’t know when that was. Maybe if he looked at the clock and just didn’t pay attention to the numbers, he’d figure it out. He stared at his watch and concentrated until his vision blurred.
He needed to call Rocki. He needed to hear her voice. He needed to figure out what the hell to do about Kendall and the mess he’d made of his life.

Kendall touched his shoulder, and he jumped—he hadn’t even heard her. “Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

“Headache.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to get you anything? Aspirin? Motrin? One of your pain pills?”

“No, but thanks. It’s probably just tension. It doesn’t make sense, but whenever I get frustrated, I end up with a wicked bad headache.”

She slid up behind him and rubbed his shoulders, “I’ve always heard that sex is an amazing tension reliever. What’s got you so keyed up?”

He didn’t think telling the truth—that he was terrified of losing her—would help anything. “I couldn’t sleep and started thinking. That’s never a good thing. I wanted to call my sister, but I don’t know what day it is—I’ve lost track. I don’t know what time it is. I’m just frustrated as hell.”

“It’s—let me think . . .” Firm hands kneaded his shoulder muscles. “It’s Sunday at about eleven o’clock, which is a little late to call. Whenever anyone calls after ten, I have a little heart attack, wondering who died. But you know your sister, so if she’s not the kind to mind, I’d be happy to dial her number for you.”

“No, that’s okay. Jaime programmed the numbers I need into the phone. You know, the hospital, nine-one-one, his number, my sister’s.”

Her thumb dug into the muscle where his shoulder connected to his neck. It hurt like hell, but in a good way. He groaned. “Hold on a minute. I need some lotion. Your shoulders and neck are in knots.”

“Lotion?”

“Yeah, it reduces friction.”

He dropped his chin to his chest and felt the strain. A second later, warm, slick hands slid over his shoulder, and the scent he always associated with Kendall surrounded him.

“There. Isn’t that better?”

Great, now he was not only frustrated and worried; he was horny. “Sweetheart, are you trying to kill me?”

“No, I’m trying to relax you.”

“That lotion smells like you. And I can’t be in the same room with you and not want you. There’s one part of my anatomy that’s anything but relaxed.”

“Because of my lotion?”

“No, it’s the scent of you mixed with the lotion that kills me. I love rubbing against you and getting your scent all over me. This way isn’t as much fun.”

“It’s not supposed to be fun; it’s supposed to be relaxing. I’ll buy unscented next time I get out to a store, or maybe I’ll spring for real massage oil.”

A picture of Kendall covered with massage oil filled his mind, as he pictured his hand slipping over her breasts, her belly, her thighs, and making love to her, all wet and slippery and hot.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Huh?” Her hands on him felt fantastic. She had strong extremely talented hands—when she’d squeezed his cock earlier, he’d nearly come.

“You groaned like you were in pain.”

“No, not pain exactly. It’s more like a cross between heaven and hell. Ecstasy and misery.”

“I like the heaven and the ecstasy part—it’s the hell and misery we need to work on.”

“I was just imagining making love to you with you all
covered in massage oil, our bodies sliding against each other, so hot, so slick, so hard.”

She pressed something rigid against the knot on his shoulder and let out a groan of her own, whether from excitement or effort. He also didn’t know what the hell she was jabbing him with. Her elbow? She leaned forward and put her weight on it. Her breasts pillowed the back of his head. It hurt like hell, but after a second the muscle seemed to relax. “There you go.” She massaged the spot lightly with her fingertips, removing any residual tension, and then repeated the process on his other shoulder.

He sucked in air through his teeth and waited out the pain. “Where’d you learn to do this?”

“One of the physical therapists I know at the hospital teaches massage part-time. Therapeutic massage, sensual massage for couples—she even teaches animal massage.”

“What kind did you learn?” He leaned forward, and she ran a slick thumb between his shoulder blade and spine. It felt so good, it should be illegal. So good it earned another groan from him that had nothing to do with the problem he was having in his pants.

“Therapeutic and sensual. I don’t have pets. She taught me, and then we’d take turns giving each other massages—you need someone to practice on.”

“You practiced sensual massage on a woman?” He pictured Kendall rubbing her hands all over a woman’s naked body. He’d always thought it would be a turn-on, but with Kendall it wasn’t. He didn’t want her hands on any body but his.

“Couples are supposed to practice on each other, but David wasn’t into it. So Joni taught me the sensual massage class more in theory and description than in practice.”

That was a relief. “Were you naked?”

“I practiced therapeutic massage on Joni, and she practiced on me—not that she needed the practice, but fair is fair. And, no, while receiving a massage, you’re not naked. You’re on a table under a sheet.” Kendall put more lotion in the palms of her hand and rubbed them together and started working the muscles of his upper back in earnest.

He leaned forward a bit more and hoped she’d never stop. “But you’re naked under the sheet, right?”

“Yes, but you’re covered.”

“It doesn’t matter—you’re still naked.”

“So? The person giving the massage is dressed.”

“Not in my imagination, you’re not.”

“You have a very dirty mind.” Her voice got that raspy-breathy tone he remembered very well, and he figured she had a very dirty mind too.

“That doesn’t sound like a complaint.”

“It’s not.”

He reached around, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her in front of him. She wore nothing but his T-shirt, the one he’d tossed into the great unknown in his haste to get naked. Damned if she didn’t look better in it than she did in one of those silky gowns. He splayed his legs and pulled her closer. His face was right at boob level, and his hands grabbed a firm handful of her incredible ass. He’d hardly had time to explore her—he figured it could take days or weeks to learn all her curves. He slid hands from the thigh to waist and back, teasing the crack. “How are you feeling?” He nuzzled her breasts.

She rubbed his neck and pulled his face to her breasts more firmly.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“I’m good. Thanks to you, my headache is just about
gone. What about you? Are you sore?” Even in the dim light he could see that she blushed to the roots of her hair. God, she was sweet. “Here?” He slipped his hand between her thighs and sucked in a breath. “You’re so wet, you’re dripping.”

She dropped her head to his shoulder.

“What’s got you so hot?”

“Touching you.”

He slipped a finger inside her, and her muscles tightened around it. “Are you sore?”

“No, but I ache.” She spoke into his shoulder