Make Me Lose Control (24 page)

His cock was already hard, his balls drawing tight.

He strode for the bed.

Desperate to have her, he dropped her to the mattress. The hem of her gown was drawn up nearly to her hips, exposing a tiny triangle of lace panties. He stared at it, sucking in deep breaths, trying to find a modicum of control.

Every other time, he’d worked hard to be gentle with her. His conscience urged that again. But it was losing the war with this carnal need to hold her, have her, possess her in every way he’d restrained himself from before.

I love you.

He tossed off his clothes. Maybe she saw the raw intent on his face, because she cast him a wary glance and rose up on her elbows. “Too late,” he rasped, putting one knee on the bed. Then his hands grasped the neckline of her gown and he tore the garment in two.

She gasped, her breasts moving up and down in shocked, unsteady breaths.

His gaze traveled her body, clad in panties and tattered fabric. His heartbeat hammered against his ribs and the erotic charge of what he’d just done fired up his blood. Curling his fingers in the elastic top of the tiny bikinis, he tore them off her, too.

Lust crawled over his skin, maddening him.

He came down on top of her, his mouth finding her nipple. As he sucked with strong pulls, his hand found the other breast, and he shaped it, fondled it, tweaked and pinched the other nipple.

She writhed under his weight, moaning and arching into him. Her hands found his hair and her nails scratched his scalp. His tongue laved the other nipple and then he bit her there. She cried out again, her hips jerking high.

I love you.

The words echoed in his head as he ran his mouth along her smooth skin, over her ribs, to her navel, then to the succulent flesh between her legs. They fell open for him and he pressed his palms to the hot, soft skin of her inner thighs as he tasted the pleated layers of wet flesh.

He trailed the tip of his tongue to her clit, circled it, circled it, his gaze going to her face as he felt her tense and tighten. Release broke over her in a strong, sharp wave and he watched the beauty of it, of her, as her head dropped back and her thighs quivered in his grasp.

“Go again,” he said against her and continued lapping.

“No, I can’t...I won’t...”

“You will.” He slid two fingers inside her hot channel and licked her again, nudging her clit with his nose. She was protesting, but her voice was nearly inaudible and her body was already lifting to his mouth. Her inner muscles clenched and unclenched and clenched again on his invading fingers.

He felt the next orgasm begin to coil inside of her.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “You shouldn’t...I’m afraid...”

“Not of me,” he said against her. “Go over.”

“No.” She thrashed in his hold, the movements weak. “Not like this. Not just me.”

“Go over.”

“No.”

Her refusal broke his restraint. He became a man possessed and possessive. Crawling up her body, he ran heavy hands over her delicate lines, making a blueprint in his mind of every curve and every hollow. He buried his face in her neck and opened his mouth to taste the skin of her shoulder.

He moved down again, blind with desire, his mouth finding her nipple so he could suck there again. His fingers drove between her legs, spearing her softness. His thumb flicked at the hard nub at the top of her sex.

She jolted once more, cried out, but then her fingers circled his wrist. “I’m too close,” she said, trying to pull him away. “Not without you. Please.”

At that last word, he lost the last of his control.

Lurching up, he flipped her over on the bed. The remnants of her gown were still clinging to her and he ripped at the cotton again, tossing the pieces from her body. Then he exposed the nape of her neck, and pressed a hot, hard kiss there, the same place he’d put his mouth that morning when he’d said his first goodbye.

His hand slid under her hips and he lifted, canting her body so he could wrap himself around her. His knees edged between hers to open her for him. She moaned, her cheek against the sheet and he knelt over her to run his hands along her shoulders, down either side of her spine, over the round curves of her ass.

Breath was heaving in and out of his lungs as he took in the primitive sight of her, positioned for his penetration. Ready for his thrust.

Donning the condom made him suck in air between his teeth, the sensation of the latex sheathing him almost unbearable, he was so aroused. He ran his hand down her spine again, trailing it along the cleft until she jerked into his touch and her wetness bathed the ends of his fingers.

I love you.

The memory of her saying the words struck his heart like a hammer hitting a gong. His body quivered and he dropped over her, covering her tender and delicate loveliness with his harder, tougher muscle and bone. He grasped his cock and fit it to her opening.

“Shay,” he said, and thrust to the hilt.

They both went still, then she made a sound, plaintive, beautiful, and backed into him, offering every inch of herself. He pushed forward into the wet and clasping heat and his mind spun away as instinct and want took over. Desire made a beast of him and he gripped her hair in one tight fist while the other hand crept around her hip to find her again, that scrap of flesh that was standing hard and ready.

He toyed with it even as he continued to drive himself inside her. She’d be sore, he’d probably already left bruises, but those thoughts were pounded to dust by the primal imperative of making his mark.

On a gasp, she surged back into the cradle of his hips, taking him to the root. She writhed there and he held fast, letting her muscles milk the climax from him. He strained under the power of it, quivering like an animal covering its mate.

Then he emptied...and for the first time in his entire life he felt filled.

When he could move, he rolled away from her and fell to his back. Glancing over at her still form, worry rushed in. “Are you all right?”

“As long as I never have to walk again,” she said, sounding drowsy.

Her spent voice motivated him to make for the bathroom. He returned with a warm, wet washcloth and a soft towel that he worked over her body with all the gentleness he hadn’t used before. Then he pulled one of his T-shirts over her head and pushed her arms through the sleeves.

“I need to go back to my room,” she murmured.

“Anything you want.”

He carried her there and tucked her into bed with great care. He kissed her forehead and then her mouth and he knew she was already half-gone. As he watched from the doorway, she turned to her side and curled up. He stayed a few minutes, watching her sleep, her hair spread out on the white pillow. She looked like a fairy taking a nap in a snowdrop.

“If I was a different man,” he whispered, repeating the words he’d said to her before, “I’d do just about anything to capture and keep you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“C
AN
I
GET
you water?” Shay asked, hand up to shade her eyes as she addressed Jace, who was perched on the roof of one of the cabins. It was the first time she’d seen him that day. He’d gone ahead to the Walker property while she and London finished going over one final essay. They’d driven up after lunch.

“Great. Thanks.”

She tossed him her best bright smile along with a cold plastic bottle. He caught it in his left hand, then scanned the vicinity. “London?”

“Cleaning windows as you suggested yesterday.” With her thumb, she indicated the cabin across the clearing.

He lowered his voice. “How do you think she’s doing today?”

“Okay. We made plans to go shopping again before she leaves Blue Arrow.”

“Did you tell her you were moving out of the house?”

“I did.”

“How’d she take that?”

“What fifteen-year-old wouldn’t like to hear her daily schoolwork has—temporarily anyway—come to an end?” The girl had accepted the news with her old nonchalance. Shay was the one who’d decided on the shopping plan so she could spend additional time with London...a plan that naturally excluded her father.

“And you. How are you doing today?” Jace asked.

She sent him another sunny smile.
Pretend you’re having the best time ever.
“I’ve got a clothes-and-makeup expedition penciled on my calendar. What’s not to be happy about?”

“Shay...”

Another smile eluded her. “Of course I’ll miss seeing London every day, though. I already told you that.”

He descended the ladder, his movements startlingly quick for such a big man. His hands cupped her shoulders. “I want to know how you’re feeling after...after last night.”

Keep your chin up, swing your hips, smile.
“Great,” she said with more false cheer even as she stepped out of his hold. “And isn’t it a beautiful day?”

At least that wasn’t a lie. The sky was a hard, rubbed-crayon blue. Sunshine beamed bright but not too hot. The air smelled of healthy pines and warm dirt. It was a mountain day for memory books.

And one of her last for a while, because she had that upcoming date with France.

Determined to keep her composure, she turned, eager to assign herself a task as distraction. “I’ll just—”

“Shay.” Jace caught her elbow and turned her back. “Last night...”

A flush crept over her skin and she wished she could bury it and herself under a rock. What had gotten into her? Why had she admitted she loved him?

Because just as he’d never had birthday cake, he’d never heard the words before. And it had seemed miserly of her to hoard the phrase. There was something about it, she’d found out, that just begged to be shared. Poppy was right. People became fools for love.

It was like a bulldozer or a snowplow, with an engine that had the power to drive over shame and through embarrassment.

Jace cleared his throat. “I worried—I was rough.”

She stared at him, another blush painting over the first. What had come after she confessed...well, that was something for another memory book. Her secret, X-rated one. “I’m fine. It was fine.”

“‘Fine’?” Jace quirked an eyebrow.

Her mouth went dry as she recalled the way he’d used his strength. Turning her, yanking her up, thrusting his hips with masculine, arousing, incredible intention. It had thrilled her. “I liked it,” she whispered.

He studied her, his gaze moving over her face. “I’m concerned you might be, uh, sore.”

“I liked that, too.”

His golden eyes turned molten, and her belly jumped. What had gotten into her? Had she been drinking truth serum?

“Shay—”

“Could we talk about something else?” Or how about not talk at all?

He shoved his hands in the pockets of the rattiest pair of jeans she’d ever seen. The knees were more bare than thread and one sleeve of his T-shirt was gone, exposing the wicked etch of his biceps.

She averted her eyes from it. “Is there something you’d like me to do?”

“Reconsider France.”

“What? I meant here, at the cabins. Aren’t I supposed to be assisting you?”

“You’re running away.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know why I’m going. The money’s—”

“It’s not about the money. You’re letting this idea that you’re not a real Walker put a wedge between you and the rest of them, even though feeling part of their circle is your deepest desire.”

“I don’t know how you can make those judgments about me,” she said, feeling too exposed by his diagnosis. “You’re a stranger—”

“I’m no stranger, damn it, and you know it.”

“Yes, you are—”

“You told me you’re in love with me, Shay. It’s like when you save someone’s life. It makes you responsible for them forever.”

Her jaw dropped. “That’s not true. And I’m rethinking the whole love thing. Because you’re a bully and a...and a bad father and you’re more of a coward than I could ever be.”

“I’ve copped to the bad father,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve never been afraid to admit to that.”

“That’s not what makes you a coward.” Her throat was tightening and she felt a sting of tears behind her eyes.
Keep your composure, Shay!
But her emotions were getting the best of her. “You claim I’m running away, well, you should take a look in the mirror.”

His mouth tightened, then he sighed. “Shay, I don’t want to fight with you—”

“Maybe I want to fight with you.” She stepped forward, so they were toe-to-toe. “Maybe I want to tell you what a jackass you are.”

“I think I’ve copped to that before, too.”

Oh, he was trying to be the cool one now. But Shay wasn’t going to allow him to deflect her ire with a cloak of calm. “Your daughter needs you.”

“I’m no good—”

“Then get good! Figure it out. If you can build a structure, then you can determine a way to build a family with that wonderful girl who shares your DNA.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Where are the plans? Can you tell me what the production schedule is? What kind of heavy equipment will I need?”

She stared at him.

“That’s what I’m familiar with. You see how this is different? I have no idea how to even lay the foundation.”

“No. Yes.” She waved her hand. “I don’t care about the stupid metaphor—”

“It was your stupid metaphor.”

“Fine,” she said, throwing up both arms. “Let’s go with it. You already have laid the foundation. London told me about the books you’ve shared over the years.
That’s
the foundation. The short time you’ve spent with her here in the mountains...those are the bones of the first floor.”

“The frame.”

“Whatever. The point is, you’ve got to keep building.”

He shook his head. “If I do it wrong, it all falls down.”

“Don’t do it wrong.” When she saw him about to protest, she held up her hand. “What if she already loves you, Jace? You just told me that’s like saving someone’s life. It makes you responsible for them forever.”

“I’ll be responsible for her. I’m not shirking that.”

“Then don’t shirk when it comes to loving her, either,” she said.

His face was a mask of frustration. “What the hell do I know about that?”

Before she could answer, the sound of cars coming up the steep drive had them both pivoting. It was her siblings, she noted, half grateful and half annoyed by the interruption.

“I wonder what they’re doing here,” she murmured, glancing at Jace.

He seemed less surprised at their arrival than she. Frowning, she headed toward her brother and sisters as they piled out of their cars. Ryan accompanied Poppy, of course.

“Hey, what brings you here?” she asked as they moved forward as a group.

Poppy’s gaze shifted to Jace, then moved back to Shay. “I told the others about the progress made. We came to see.”

Shay released a long breath, and tried to appear as if she hadn’t just been arguing with the man beside her. “That’s right. Among other things, Poppy’s cabin—the one she used before she and Mason moved to Ryan’s—is nearly habitable again,” she said, addressing Mac and Brett. “Roof repaired, et cetera.”

Poppy beamed. “Isn’t that great?”

Brett wandered over to inspect the work. He climbed the ladder, gave a whistle, then returned to the ground. “Appreciate what you’ve done, Jace,” he said.

“Shay and London have put their time in, too.”

As the two men began to talk of the particulars, Ryan moved to join them, while Shay’s sisters sidled closer to her. “How are you?” Poppy asked.

“Terrific. Fabulous. Never been better.” She pasted on another of the smiles she’d been working on all day, determined to hide her upset. If Mac was the feisty sister and Poppy the optimist, Shay had always excelled at self-containment.

Until Jace, she thought. Until he’d destroyed her secure inner walls.

“We heard you’re moving back to your place,” Mac said.

Who had passed along that little nugget? “It’s time.” It would seem small compared to Jace’s lake house, but it would suit her until she moved to France.

“And we heard you’re planning on taking that job Dee’s offered,” her oldest sister continued as if reading her mind.

Shay glared at Poppy.

The other woman widened her eyes. “You didn’t say I couldn’t tell.”

“I didn’t say you could, either,” she grumbled.

“Are you running off because of him?” Mac asked, nodding toward Jace.

Shay exploded. “Why is everyone suddenly accusing me of running?”

Her sisters exchanged glances. “Well, uh, hurriedly changing the subject, we have something to show you,” Poppy said, taking her by the arm. “Inside my old cabin.”

“I know what’s inside your old cabin,” Shay said, resisting.

Mac tsked. “You’re usually easier to get along with than this.”

“I didn’t like making waves or getting people mad at me before,” Shay said in a bad-tempered voice. “Now I don’t care.”

“I love this new you,” Poppy said, grinning. “But come along anyway.”

With ill grace, Shay allowed herself to be escorted into the bungalow. Behind her, she heard Jace making noises about returning to the roof to finish up, but Poppy’s will was formidable and when she insisted that both he and London join them, that’s just what happened.

“Sit,” Mac said, and pushed Shay onto the sofa in the living area. Everyone else took up places around her.

Wary, she glanced about. “This isn’t an intervention, is it? Because I’m pretty certain I can’t give up those dark chocolate-covered caramels.”

“It’s a movie,” Poppy said, whipping a DVD out of her purse. “All about you.”

“Is this going to be embarrassing?” she asked, warier still, as her sister handed over the recording for Ryan to insert into the player.

“Of course not,” she assured Shay, then said, “oops!” as the first image popped onto the TV screen.

Shay shrieked. “I’m naked!”

“You’re a baby, on a blanket,” Mac said. “And your butt was cute.”

She thought she heard a “still is,” whispered by a male voice in her ear, but she ignored the remark and slumped lower on the cushions.

“What is this?” she demanded, as music burst through the speakers. A lively tune to accompany photos of her in a stroller, a crib, eating rice cereal in a high chair.

“We wanted to give it to you for your birthday, but the guy who was doing the editing for us was running behind,” Poppy said with a significant glance at her significant other.

Ryan raised his hand. “Sorry, Shay. I’ve been spending too much time with your adorable, affectionate, effervescent...”

They all groaned, even as he spoke over them.

“...dog-in-law—or is that nephew-dog? Anyway, Grimm.”

Poppy threw a pillow at him just as the images changed from solo to sibling shots. There were all four of them, at Christmas, Easter, Halloween, first days of school.

The next photo showed a mess in the kitchen and all four kids covered in dough. “That’s the time Brett decided to make cookies,” Mac said.

“He used the blender and forgot to put the top on,” Poppy explained.

Shay grinned, remembering, and then grinned wider as the still shots changed to video of her big brother teaching her to ride a bike.

“You broke my big toe when you steered the two wheels over my foot,” he said.

The movie ran on, a combination of photos and camcorder footage, a chronicle of her growing-up years. No, she thought, of
their
growing-up years. But the film editor—Ryan—had managed to put Shay at the center of everything.

And she couldn’t miss how her brother and sisters were always there behind her, or to pick her up, or to lead her forward. The point wasn’t lost on her.

As the movie ended, she closed her eyes, tight, then opened them to look at each one of her siblings. “Thank you. I love it. But you should know I’ve never doubted you guys.”

“You’ve doubted something recently,” Brett said. “We hope this puts that to rest.” With a flourish, he handed over a rolled piece of parchment, tied with a ribbon.

Mac leaned close. “One of his exes does calligraphy. Personally, I’m surprised she didn’t use her talent to slash his tires, Mr. New-Girl-Nightly, but he sweet-talked her into doing this for you.”

“Sweet talk?” Shay asked, brows rising as she slipped off the ribbon. “Brett knows sweet talk?”

“I know, I know. I think it consists of ‘Hey, baby, you wanna?’”

The parchment was the size of a legal document and the lettering was beautiful. She stared at what it said, her eyes beginning to burn. The sting made it impossible to read. With one hand she swiped at her eyes.

“I’m having an attack of something akin to fuzzy-screen syndrome. What does it say?”

“It’s an adoption paper,” London said. She came to look over Shay’s shoulder. “It looks very official and declares you a Walker through-and-through. It’s signed by everybody, even Mason.”

Shay hiccupped a watery laugh. “What about Grimm?”

“He’s got some slobbery kisses he’s saving up for you,” Ryan said.

Overwhelmed by sudden emotion, Shay passed the document to Mac and covered her eyes with her hands. Then she curled over her knees, trying to prevent the sobs in her chest from breaking free.