“And what do you get out of this?”
“Nothing from the hotel deal. I’d have no interest and no control.”
“What do you get out of this?” she repeats.
“Protecting what is left of my family and getting you what you deserve. That’s all.” I hold out my hands. “That’s all, Emma.”
“What kind of setup? I heard you talking about setting him up. And don’t say York. You will not connect him to York.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You said—”
“I have openly admitted to being consumed by my need for revenge before I met you. The only reason I didn’t tell you about this sooner was that I wanted to come to you with the facts first. And I knew you’d be pissed when you found out about the merger. I didn’t want you to charge at your brother right now.”
“Not until you could set him up?”
“Holy hell, Emma.” I scrub my jaw. “Is that where we’re at? Because I didn’t think it was.”
“Neither did I.”
“I was thinking about the threats Randall made. My brother is dead, and yes, I’ve considered your brother a suspect. I don’t want you to end up dead, too. I need a damn drink, but not as much as I need this.” I step to her, pulling her close, one hand between her shoulder blades and the other at the back of her head. “I know I promised not to touch you, but I’m just a bastard, right? Why would I keep a promise?” My mouth closes down on hers, hot and heavy, and I kiss her. A deep, taking kiss. I kiss her like I will never kiss her again because I might not. She resists at first, but then she’s kissing me, too.
An angry kiss. I taste her anger. I taste my own. We’re both angry at me. And what do I do? Touch her. Kiss her. When I said I wouldn’t. I tear my mouth from hers. “I guess I just proved your point right.” I release her and turn.
She catches my arm. “Exactly what point did you just prove?”
“That you can’t trust me to keep my word. And that the idea of not touching you again is un-fucking-bearable.”
“I’m confused,” she whispers.
My gaze lowers to her swollen lips that I want on mine again, now, and lifts. “I can see why.”
“Do you know what will make me less confused?”
“No. What?”
“If you just kiss me again.”
“And when I’m done kissing you?”
“Do you have to be done?”
I don’t need any further encouragement. I kiss her. And this time, I don’t plan to stop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jax
I am hot, hard, and in need of this woman in ways that I have never needed in my life. Every time I think she’s taken all I have to give, she takes more. But so do I. I want it all with Emma. I want all of her and nothing less. And so, my kiss, my touch, my very breath, right here and now, is all about demand. I demand. She demands. I touch her. Her hands are all over me. We’re wild. We’re burning alive. I rotate her, and somehow, she crashes against the wall. “Oh hell. Sorry, baby.”
She laughs, that sweet sexy laugh of hers. “I like it rough.”
I laugh, and damn, it feels good. We’re back to us right now. Will it last? I hope like hell it does. I kiss her again, and we erupt into a frenzy of touching and tugging off clothing until we’re both naked. I sit down in the chair in the corner, dragging her on top of me. Her arms wrap around my neck, her sweet floral scent teasing my nostrils, clinging to my skin.
I caress a path up her spine, molding her closer. “I’m not letting you go,” I say. “That’s not happening.”
“Remember that,” she whispers. “Whatever happens. Remember that.” She reaches for my mouth, and I tangle my fingers in her hair, slanting my mouth over hers.
Awareness hits that she’s just spoken those words as if they preclude a bloody war, and maybe it will. Maybe it already has, but right now, it’s her and me, and the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Our lips collide, and when I kiss her this time, it’s with a clawing hunger for some unnamed something that only she can name. Revenge, satisfaction, grief, pain, happiness. All things lead back to Emma. She needs to save her brother. I didn’t save mine. My need for her is the only outlet for what I know is guilt. I didn’t save my brother. I didn’t fucking save him.
I drag my mouth from hers, the taste of her, so damn sweet, so damn addictive, lingering on my lips. “Emma,” I whisper, biting back words about her brother I know she doesn’t want to hear, but I need to say them.
“Not now,” she whispers. “Just us right now.” Her lips press to mine.
Her tongue presses past my teeth, and when it touches mine, a whisper of a caress, I swear I feel that tease in the throb of my cock and the racing of my heart. I close my hand around her hair where it rests on her neck, kissing the hell out of her, and I admit that part of me is angry at her, not just myself. Why did she make me care this damn much? Why did she complicate my revenge? Another part of me thanks God that she did. I’m thinking too much, and I drive away any semblance of reality, savoring the sweetness of her on my tongue, the weight of her breasts in my hands. The sounds, those sexy sounds she makes, radiating along my nerve endings.
I dive into the here and now, and I barely remember lifting her and pressing inside her.
She slides down my cock, nice and slow, a soft moan escaping her now bruised lips, and that sound, that sound, is pure sex and fire. I thrust into her, dragging her down against me, my hand on her breast as I do, fingers pinching her nipple.
She gasps and covers my hand with hers. “Oh god,” she whispers.
Oh god, indeed.
Yes.
Hell yes.
I thrust again, and she grabs onto my shoulders, her sexy as hell body rocking against me, the sound of our pleasure and breathing echoing in the castle hallway. She wanted this to be about us, just us, and that’s what she gets. Us. Me. Her. Us. Dirty. Needy. Hungry for each other.
Lost.
Found.
That’s what I am with her, and when she gasps and her sex locks down on my cock, her fingers twisting in my hair, I am the least in control that I have been in my entire life. I lift my hips, thrusting into her, pulling her against me. That does it for her; she’s spasms around me, milking my cock, and dragging me into release right along with her. I shudder, my body damn near quaking. I hold her against me, time fading in and out, and no matter how hard I try to cling to the moment, to the escape, reality returns. Like a blast of cold air, the room returns. The war returns. All the unspoken words return. Words that need to be spoken.
I stand up and take Emma with me, walking down the stairs. Once we’re on the main level, I cut left and walk into the guest bathroom. I flip on the light, set Emma on the counter, and then hand her a towel. I snatch up a larger one for me and wrap it around my waist.
“I’ll grab our clothes,” I say, but when I try to turn away, she catches my arm.
“I’m sorry. I trusted my father. I trusted York. I trusted my brother. They all burned me. I let that influence how I responded to you. I won’t do it again.”
I turn fully to her again and brush her hair behind her ear. “That is exactly why you reacted like you did. And that is a lifetime of conditioning you don’t just let go of. Don’t make a promise you can’t keep. You’ll have trust issues again and we’ll deal with it when it happens. Fair enough?”
“I’m going to try not to let it happen again, but yes. And Jax?” She drags fingers over my jawline, her featherlight touches that undo me like no one else can undo me. “That means a lot to me,” she adds.
I stroke her cheek. “I’m not going to make you a promise I can’t keep either. Which is why I will never promise that I won’t touch you again. Because we both know I will.”
She smiles, her hand settling on my chest. “I’m glad you can’t keep that promise.”
I take her hand and kiss it. “I’ll get our clothes. We have a lot to talk about.” I try to turn away again, and she catc
hes my arm again.
“I wish we could forget it all. I don’t want our families to be at war.”
“So, we have to end the war. And that’s what we need to talk about.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jax
Fifteen minutes after our naked make-up session, Emma and I sit at the kitchen island side-by-side, freshly filled steaming mugs of coffee beside us. I run my hand over the wooden surface of the island, with pots and pans hanging from hooks attached to the decorative hood above us. “That’s one of my only memories of my mother—outside of the red dress. She was always in the kitchen, baking cookies and drinking coffee.”
Emma sips her coffee, her green eyes filled with confusion. “That’s confusing considering she left. Was she a good mom?”
My lips press together. “I don’t know. Kids tend to glorify their parents.”
“I resemble that remark,” she says. “A little too well. As for your mother. No wonder your father built the beach house. He wanted to get you away from the painful memories.”
“He did,” I say, taking a drink and setting my mug back down. “In some ways, I wish he hadn’t.”
“Why?” she asks. “The beach house is amazing, and it became your family home.”
“It did, but I think living there, instead of here, allowed us kids to hide from the loss of our mother instead of facing it, which teaches you to hide from things. If I ever have kids, I don’t want them to learn to hide.”
“Do you want kids?”
“Right now, I don’t know if I could handle the fear for their safety. You?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I’ve never given it much thought.”
“You were engaged to York. Surely, you talked about kids.”
“No,” she says, running her finger around the rim of her mug. “We never talked about it. We were so young when we first got engaged. And then, he became a different person after he inherited.”
“As was Hunter after my father’s death.” I inhale and let the air trickle from my lips, thinking about those changes, about how damn divided we were when he died. “I don’t want to hide from Hunter’s death, Emma. I owe it to him to make this right. And we can’t hide from it anyway. If we try, it will come back to haunt us later.”
“I’m not asking you to do that, Jax. I don’t want you to do that.”
“Even if it leads to Chance?”
“I told you. If Chance killed Hunter, he’s not the man I thought he was. He’s already not the man I thought he was. I don’t know if he killed Hunter, but I think he’s covering it up. I think he knows.”
“What specifically makes you feel that?”
“I was considering that while we made the coffee. He wants my father’s journal in a bad way. What if he thinks there is something in there that exposes Hunter’s killer?” She presses a hand to her face and drops it. “What if it’s my mother, Jax?”
“Your mother?” I ask, and the earnest look on her face tells me she’s given this real consideration. “You mean because she didn’t want the bastard son to rule the kingdom?”
“Yes. Exactly. Maybe she lived with the affair but couldn’t live with whatever my father planned for Hunter’s future. She is currently hiding in Europe.”
“Grieving in Europe,” I amend.
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” She sips her coffee. “And, in what might seem like a change of topic, but isn’t, I had Savage take me to your office.”
“You’re welcome to use my office anytime, but we should set you up with your own as well.”
“I’d love to be here and have an office here, but I didn’t go there to work. That hourglass we found on the bookshelf—do you remember it?”
“Yes, sure. You said those were sold in the gift shops in your hotels.”
“I was wrong about that. I called my mother’s old assistant—yes, she did work for the business for a while, a short while, but she did. Anyway, it turns out that those hourglasses were designed and ordered by my mother. They were high-end gifts she gave out to important clients.”
“My father was a vendor, not a paying client. Why would she give it to my father?”
“Well, according to my mother’s ex-assistant, they were all close. They went to dinners and took trips and my mom and Jax’s mom were close. Aside from that, the idea that my mom gave it to your dad really never crossed my mind. The idea that my father gave it to your dad didn’t cross my mind, either. That’s not his thing.” She swallows hard and amends her statement. “Wasn’t his thing. He didn’t do gifts. Of course, Savage being Savage, heard this tidbit and asked if they were swingers, which also never crossed my mind.”
“Of course, he did. Only Savage could take an hourglass, with an uncertain history, and turn it into a swingers situation.”
“Exactly, though, it’s a pretty horrible thought, right?”
“Ah yeah. I might be a grown adult, but thinking about our parents, not only swinging but doing it together, is drinking territory.”
She laughs. “Right. I said that to him. Thank you, Savage, for the visuals my mind conjured that I did not need.”
“Aside from swinging, do you think your father gave it to my mother? He’d have access to the hourglasses, and my mother might have left it behind. Though I have to say, my father got rid of everything that reminded him of her.”
“I know I said my father didn’t give gifts, which is true, and important, to what I’m going to say next. Despite that statement, I believe my father did, in fact, give that hourglass to your father under the guise of a gift that wasn’t really a gift. It was his way of mocking your father, with a ‘fuck you, I’m fucking your wife and you can’t stop me,’ message inside. And I mean that quite literally. I found out each hourglass has a spot for a secret note at the bottom.”
“There was a note,” I say flatly, not even sure I want to know what the hell it says.
“Yes. In my father’s handwriting.” She pulls out her phone and shows it to me.
“They’ll never know, but we do,” I say, reading the message out loud. “That bastard.”
“He was, and he used that hourglass that my mother created to deliver that message. It was really an insult to her, as well. Jax, Hunter—”
“Say it,” I press. “Say it because I can’t get myself to say it.”
“Hunter was my father’s son. I have no doubt.”
And there it is. The truth that punches me in the gut. I flashback to that day that her father was in Hunter’s office, and I know what my dreams have been trying to tell me. They looked alike. And even knowing this was coming, knowing deep down, from the moment she told me about the DNA test, that is was true, it’s hell to accept. But I have no choice. “Yes,” I say tightly, “I believe he was.”
“That’s weird for us, right?”
“We’re not related, baby. And that’s the least of our worries. Here’s the bottom line: someone wants us to know what we don’t know, as proven by that note left with the DNA test last night. And someone thinks we know what we don’t know.”
“My brother and Randall.”
“Exactly. As long as those unknowns exist, trouble is right around the corner.”
“We have to find out the truth and deal with it. I get that we’re trying, but we’re getting nowhere. My mother won’t call me back. It’s worrying me. I need to see Chance.”
“And say what?”
“He knows what happened to Hunter. I’ll make him tell me.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then somehow your trap needs to be a way to force him into telling us. And before I forget. When we were leaving your office, Brody and Jill were having a powwow in a private office. He was saying that he had to do something about me. Believe it or not, she told him to wait; there was still hope you were using me.”
“Did it seem romantic? Because if you remember, they dated before her and Hunter.”
“I do remember that very weird fact, but Brody was too erratic
for me to judge. She seemed more like a big sister calming him down, but I could have misread that. Savage will likely have a better read.”
I glance at my watch. “Damn. I have a meeting I have to go to, and we haven’t even talked about the plan to deal with your brother. Let’s both give Grayson and Eric a ride to the airport. We can all talk about it then.”
Her spine stiffens. “Oh no. I’m uncomfortable talking to them about my brother before we talk. I’d rather not.”
I don’t push her. She’s right. We need to talk about this, just her and I. “Fair enough. I’ll be a while then. Do you want me to walk you to the house?”
“I don’t want Walker to have to watch me there and keep the castle secure. I’ll stay here if they can get me my MacBook. And if it’s safe. Is the security system back up?”
I grab my phone. “I’m texting Savage.” I key in the message. “If Chance attacks my family and this business is this family—”
“You’ll fight back,” she supplies. “I know that, but I’d prefer we go back to San Francisco and just confront him, so that we stop him from doing something stupid. But maybe it needs to be just me. You can’t leave the Harvest.”
“Not a chance in hell. I will not let you risk your life.”
“He’s my brother.”
She says that like it’s the armor that protects her; it’s not. “So was Hunter,” I remind her, “and we both have reason to believe he knew. Not to mention, York is angry as hell and on the loose.” My phone beeps with a reply from Savage. I scan it and look at her. “Savage says you’re good. He’ll have your MacBook brought to you. And the castle is secure. His team setup their own power source for security, whatever that means.” I push off the stool and step to her side, my hand sliding under her hair to settle on her neck. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”
“No, Jax. Your Harvest. You can’t leave.”
“I’ve done enough here. And you’re right, we need to just face Chance. I need to be ready for that to backfire, but we need to be done with this. We’ll leave tomorrow.” I kiss her temple. “I’ll meet you here in about three hours. If you want to go back to the house, just tell Savage. You have his number, right?”
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