Middle of Knight (18 page)

Crickets chirping.

The pitter patter of the pond fountain.

The occasional popping of a motorcycle on the main road.

The windows were closed, yet Jackson heard every little sound as red numbers on his digital night clock flicked to midnight.

Two beers and clumsy sparring with Jillian should have slam dunked his brain into a deep coma. It didn’t. All he could think about was Ryn. She didn’t wear an anorexic body or grin like a clown from Botox. Her breasts were real and they didn’t stand out. If he looked closely, a few fine lines around her eyes were visible. He hadn’t seen her stretch marks or her scar from childbirth, but she confessed it. They didn’t meet at a bar and fuck in the bathroom or alley … most of his conquests never even made it to his car, let alone his house.

Truth? What he’d done with women in the past could hardly be considered dating. It was more fucking about. Two people using bodies for pleasure. There were never emotions, at least not for him. Any girl pathetic enough to mistake a quick fuck for something more, especially when names were rarely exchanged, had bigger issues than Jackson.

What makes a man so callus, so immune to emotions, so obsessed with instant gratification? A secret. The kind of secret that one person alone has to keep to himself for eternity. The kind of secret that shatters lives, destroys families, and ends in blood.

Jude Day had a secret. A secret that annihilated everything he believed to be true and forever changed his perception of his parents. Jackson Knight needed to believe that secret would remain buried in San Francisco. His entire existence clung to the hope of new beginnings.

The night stretched on, dragging him in and out of restless sleep. He didn’t wait for the sunrise. It never waited for him. Rubbing his face like he could erase the previous day, he lumbered from his bed straight into his running attire. Five miles later, he returned for a shower, Red Bull, and protein drink. The day required an extra boost of … everything.

After a string of agonizing piano lessons with women who were not serious about playing the piano, he texted Ryn, saying he had something to show her. It was the truth, of sorts.

“Jackson?” Greta called before he could shut the car door.

He shut it anyway then rolled down the window.

“You on your way out?” she asked with a labored breath from crossing the street.

He made a mental note to not get old. “Nope. Just keeping Woody company.”

Her brows pulled together.

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I’m on my way out.”

“Oh.” She nodded, maintaining her confused look. “You’re a funny guy.”

“I try. What’s up?”

“I’m having a party at my house next week, and Jillian said you have a lady friend now. Guess you couldn’t wait forever for Marvin to die.” She winked, but it resembled more of an out-of-control eye spasm or an eyelash in her eye. “Here’s an invitation for you to give her. We’d all love to meet her.”

“Oh.” Jackson took the shiny black envelope, inspecting both sides. It looked familiar. “What kind of party is it?”

“Well, a Lascivo party of course.”

“W-what? Are you serious?”

“Yes. After the ValuPak incident, it’s time to show Marvin that I’m not all dry and shriveled up. I’m still a vivacious woman at heart, even if my body is a little slower and not as flexible. Jillian said you’re never too old to nurture your sexuality.”

Jackson rubbed his chin, nose wrinkled a bit. “She did, did she?”

“She sure did. Marvin can ValuPak it all he wants, because after my party I’ll no longer be requiring his
services
, if you know what I mean.”

He didn’t or at least he sure as hell didn’t want to, but on a sigh he asked the obvious question anyway. “What was the ValuPak incident?”

“Jillian didn’t tell you?”

Head shake.

Making her usual quick scan as if anyone in the hearing-aid community could really hear her, she leaned in closer to the window. “You know that ValuPak envelope of coupons everyone gets in the mail?”

A nod.

“Well, sometimes there are coupons for bras and other feminine things. So last week I stepped out into the garage to get my flyswatter that hangs by the door, and you wanna know what I saw?”

He didn’t. He really didn’t.

“Marvin sitting in a lawn chair by his work bench
playing
with himself while he had three of the coupons from the ValuPak stuck to the side of the bench with magnets. One was for a bra sale at Penny’s, one was for a thirty-day trial at a fitness studio, and the other was for Hardee’s. Everyone knows the hot women on those commercials don’t really eat that stuff.”

Jackson would not be eating anything for a good long time.

“So…” he held up the envelope “…I’ll give this to Ryn.”

“Ryn! That’s her name. Jillian told me but I forget. I knew it was a songbird, but all I could think of was Robin. Well, toodaloo … tell her I’m giddy with excitement to meet her.” Greta waved as Jackson backed out of the garage.

*

The Nike slogan
played on repeat in Jackson’s mind as he made the two right and one left turn that separated the five miles from his house to Ryn’s. The gusty winds that had ripped the amber leaves from the trees earlier in the day had died down. The blinding angle of the setting sun made it difficult to see pedestrians in the crosswalks as the bars and restaurants bulged with the Friday night crowd. Even Ryn’s street had cars lined on both sides, walking distance from the entertainment district.

Just Do It.

The line between psyching himself up and psyching himself out disappeared, leaving him lost in the blurry middle. Before his brain shifted into overdrive, he hopped out and strode toward her door with the confidence of this guy from San Francisco he used to know.

One lock clicked and then another. Even with Gunner, Ryn kept her doors locked at all times.

“Hi.” She smiled with a bit of hesitation. Her look said “are you still mad at me for laughing at your pathetic advances?”

He grinned. The less he said the better.

“Come in. I ran late at my last job so I need to shower. Dinner is in the oven.” She walked toward the kitchen.

The view of her ass shifting slightly side to side in her yoga pants fed his intentions.

Just Do It.

“Smells good. What is it?”

“Lasagna, but it has about thirty minutes, so maybe I should run and take a quick shower.” She slipped off her oven mitts after pulling the foil from the top of the casserole dish.

“No.”

She froze. Only her eyes flitted from one side of the room to the other, trying to solve his mysterious response. “No … what?”

Just. Do. It.

“One question.” He pulled off his shirt, needing all the persuasive ammunition he could get.

Ryn’s eyes widened.

“And it’s a yes or no answer.” He stepped closer, backing her into the refrigerator. “Do you want me?”

“I-I need a shower.”

He shook his head, inching closer yet. “Try again.”

“I’ve been cleaning houses—”

Another head shake that silenced her. She. Was. His. Once a woman responded to his non-verbal commands, it was equivalent to folding in a poker game.

“Yes … or no?” he whispered in her ear.

Backed into a hard surface with no place to go, breathless, and stumbling for words … that’s what he knew. There was only one word he needed.

“Say it.”

“I probably smell like—”

“Say. It.”

Sliding his hands along the outside of her T-shirt, he stopped and kneaded her breasts with a firm pressure that made her hiss.

“I’m too—”

“Say it!” he growled, pinching her nipples so hard she jumped.

“Yes!” she yelled. “Yes, I want you to fuck me!’

Stilling his hands, he raised his face from her neck and just stared at her for a moment. Her breaths came so fast she could hardly catch them. Ryn looked shocked as if she, too, couldn’t believe those words came from her mouth. He didn’t say it, but he sure did think it:
Holy shit! Jillian was right. Ryn wants me to fuck her like the stable boy.

If he didn’t snap out of it, she could change her mind. They both could overthink everything.

Just Do It.

T
he oven heated
to 375 degrees. Ryn did too. Tomato, oregano, and basil filled the air. A bag of Romaine lettuce waited by the sink to be cleaned and chopped into a salad. The cracked window welcomed the soothing yet dramatic tones of the Japanese wind chime on her back deck, dancing in the breeze. There was the compression bra issue again, but his magic touch managed to draw them out of hiding. The dirt and grime from a long day of cleaning clung to her body, and the shivering fear of
everything
left her trembling. If she’d had a tail it would have been between her legs.

The problem? He turned her on. Her thoughts couldn’t stop her body from feeling so reckless. Resisting was far more painful—impossible—than submitting.

“My boobs look like pancakes and I’m not well groomed in certain
places
.” The words were out. It was as much a relief as an embarrassment. The truth felt like a baby in the womb: innocent and destined to come out.

Jackson smirked and she pressed her lips together, hiding her grin. She loved the invisible string between his smile and hers and how they played off each other.

“This is going to be fun … so much fun.”

“Sex?”

“Making it my mission to show you how sexy you are.” He kissed her before she had a chance to argue. Each stroke of his tongue controlling and demanding as his hands curled around the waist of her yoga pants.

She tugged the button and zipper to his jeans. He pulled away, leaving her mouth begging for more as he peeled down her pants until she stepped out of them. The flush of her cheeks intensified at the realization that her panties could not have been any less sexy. They looked like hand-me-downs from her grandma. It had been a busy week and the laundry fell behind. Before he could make a good inspection, she slid them down and wadded them in her hand.

He grinned, looking down at the bunched nude cotton she fisted. When his eyes shifted to hers, she maintained a neutral look as if to say, “There’s nothing to see here.” There was no way to hide the fact that she removed her underwear in one quick, desperate move. It had been far from graceful or indiscrete. Jackson just stood there waiting for her to do something with them.

Leaning toward him, eyes locked to his, she reached behind her and cracked open the refrigerator door just enough to toss her panties inside before leaning back against it like it never happened. She made a mental note to burn all her undergarments and replace them with rigid underwires and ass-floss panties.

“I need you to hurry up.” She grimaced, locking her knees to keep her legs from shaking. “I’m naked from the waist down and completely coming apart inside.”

Their mouths crashed. He didn’t give her another chance to speak or even form a coherent thought. Moisture pooled between her legs until she felt it drip like lava down her thigh. Her legs pressed together in mortification.

He slid two fingers between her wet folds, stopping her motion. She moaned while he pressed his body firm to hers, as if he wanted to feel her sounds vibrate between them. The only thing sexier than him—which was basically
everything
that could possibly be sexy—was his physical desire for her.

He. Wanted. Her.

It took a moment in the heat of distraction for that to sink into her brain. When it did, all dignity evaporated and she widened her stance. Yes, she widened her stance. It may not have seemed like much to him, but for her it represented a brazen move. It said, “I need as much of you as I can possibly fit inside me, NOW!”

Three. Three fingers fit nice and snug. His tongue made languid strokes up her neck with his teeth teasing her skin. When his hand stopped moving, she raised onto her toes and lowered back down. For a fleeting moment she felt embarrassed by the desperateness of riding his hand, but when his palm grazed her sensitive clitoris it no longer mattered. As long as he didn’t stop kissing her, touching, needing her.

“Oh … God …” Her eyes rolled back in her head. An orgasm approached the precipice. “Wait!”

As he pulled his hand away, her eyes flew open. Did she dare tell him she hadn’t finished? Half the blood in her body had converged between her legs, like water against a damn. A painful case of pink balls.

Pulling a condom out of his pocket, he grinned. The words teetered on the tip of her tongue. Jackson Knight embodied a godly specimen. However, she’d never reached an orgasm from penetration. That confident grin said he’d be the first, but Ryn had her doubts.

Her teeth made a death grip to her lower lip as he pushed his jeans and briefs down. Steadying herself with one hand on his bare chest, her other hand rested over her heart. She didn’t feel it there until he rolled on the condom and shifted his eyes to her.

His signature take-charge demeanor paused for a moment. He peeled her hand from her chest, inching it towards his face. She looked up as he pressed his lips against her palm, closing his eyes for an eternal second that stopped the progression of time … and her heart.