by Geri Krotow
“Hey, Mr. Boudreaux. Welcome to The Refuge.” He felt Jena’s gaze and chose to believe she was happy he’d stepped in.
“Nice to see you, Jeb. Putting in doors today? I thought your talents were more with the books.” Hudson sized up the beams, the door space, and looked at Jeb, who fought against the wood in his pants.
“Yes, sir. I’m doing the books for the initial start-up, and lending a helping hand where I can.”
Hudson nodded. “Good man. You always were, Jeb. If only I’d had half of your wisdom at your age.” Melancholy edged his voice.
“Robyn, our architect, dropped off paint chips. Why don’t you come look at them?” Jena was way too flustered to not be as moved as he’d been by their close call. A zap of satisfaction that had nothing to do with his cock warmed his gut.
A reminder of why he needed to keep his time at The Refuge as short as possible. He’d never be able to be around Jena and look at her as just a colleague. Even “close family friend” was too close, yet so far from how he reacted to her.
He had to keep his focus on the Atlanta job, only two more weeks away.
* * * *
Jena hid in her office for the remainder of the day, taking breaks only for lunch and to see the progress in the kitchen. When she had to walk past Jeb, she took extra care to leave plenty of room, not wanting a repeat of their morning mishap.
She clicked through yet another grant application, proofing her grammar before hitting “submit.” It’d be great to have a fully dedicated grant writer on staff sooner rather than later. She wanted to devote her time to the client base, at least for the first couple of years, until The Refuge was on its feet.
Her encounter with Jeb had stung. First, she wondered how much of her conversation with Robyn he’d overhead. Shame flooded her cheeks with warmth as she painstakingly went over what she’d shared with her new friend. “Moving on with my past” wasn’t something to feel badly about saying, was it? Or believing?
Hell, Jeb was the one who’d cut their relationship off, told her they were through with their previous arrangement. Guilt gnawed at her and she reflexively touched the scar on her cheek. Barely discernible with her fingertips, its quick healing still surprised her. But before her face had been expertly put back together, the slice from her mouth to just below her eye stitched with precision, Jeb had been there to get her through the worst.
He’d come with a team of rescuers. She knew this from the after-action reports and what she’d been told during her debrief in D.C. But she didn’t remember any of it. She only remembered lying on the dirt floor of an abandoned house in a forgotten part of Asunción, thinking her life was over, being grateful she’d texted Jeb. She’d asked him to tell her family what had happened, that she was sorry and would always love them.
And she’d told Jeb she loved him, too.
Then he burst through the basement, letting in the daylight along with the hope she might live after all. He’d been all she’d dreamed about, back when she thought she loved him. In high school and part of college, before she made her commitment to her country and decided to cut him out of it. The sex-only relationship they’d shared the past two years wasn’t what she’d clung to in the dark basement that was her prison for two weeks. It was the bond they’d had from day one, running across her family property in the middle of the hot, muggy summer. Canoeing through the bayou, shrieking at the alligators and snakes, delighting in the hushed silence that was NOLA in autumn.
Her little girl heart had loved Jeb with no reservation, adored him as her older brother’s best friend. When childhood evolved into adolescence, she’d fought the confusion over her feelings toward Jeb. No longer just friends, she realized that no other boy measured up to him. Once they figured out they were a couple, they’d kept it secret, as much as two teens could.
The office grew quiet, the contractors gone until morning. Hudson had left early, told her he’d return next week. It was hard to blame him, as the drive to Baton Rouge was over an hour each way. She closed her laptop and promised herself she’d get in extra early tomorrow to get the grants finished. Robyn was right—she needed to expand her horizons beyond work.
One last pass through the house, flicking off lights as she went. Humming from the kitchen stilled her steps, made her think twice.
Jeb.
She pushed herself to walk into the kitchen, and at first she didn’t see him. The original kitchen walls had been stripped, and fresh drywall was up, ready for paint. The spaces for the commercial appliances were taped off, only days from delivery. The most noticeable improvement was the lighting—completely modern and fully functional, not one inch of the kitchen center, where a large, stainless-steel-topped island was planned, was in shadow.
The humming continued, and she knew Jeb was in the room past the kitchen, the extension that would serve as a pantry and office supply area.
“Hey.” She raised her voice, not trusting herself to walk into the enclosed area. Not after how her heartbeat and desire had spiked from his simple touch this morning. Jeb didn’t have to tell her twice—she got the message loud and clear when she’d shown up at his place hoping to apologize. Still, it was going to take more time to teach her desire that things had changed.
How can you do that when you haven’t let go yet?
Stillness, then quiet steps. Jeb walked into the main kitchen and stopped several feet from her. His eyes revealed nothing, and she noticed they didn’t sweep over her like they used to.
“I’m heading out and wanted to lock the place up. If you think you’ll be much later, I can leave you the key.”
“Yeah, I’m going to need another hour or so. I want to paint the first wall in the storage room before I call it quits.”
“Okay. Well, here you go.” She took the front door key off her ring. “It’ll be easier when the electronic system’s in place.” They’d each have their own fob to scan and unlock the front entrance, or the back door off the kitchen.
“It will.” Nothing else. Had she made that much of a fool of herself? Did Jeb think she was going to jump him?
Because damn it, she wanted to. She wanted this man, from the long brown locks of his hair to the tips of his toes inside his construction boots. This was why she should have listened to her instinct and just gone home. Left the key on the plywood conference table with a note.
“Here.” She held the key out, unwilling to walk toward him, lest the shaking sense in her center show in her legs. Her hand was trembling, for fuck’s sake. “Never mind—I’ll leave the key on the meeting table. See you in the morning.”
She turned to walk out of the room, and she really, really meant to do it.
“Jena, wait.” His hand touched her shoulder, and she didn’t know if that’s what spun her back around, or her need, or both. What mattered was that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—look up into his eyes. So she stared at his chest, three inches in front of her.
“Take it.” She shoved the key between them, willing him to take it. Willing herself to stop thinking with her vagina and ignore the pounding between her legs—the need that only Jeb filled completely.
His hand reached to take the key but instead closed around hers, and it was this morning all over again. The shock of the sensation of his skin on hers. The warmth from his body, as if it reached out to her whether he wanted it to or not. Her body was straining to push up against him. Her mind found her baser instincts, clawed for a quick reason to get away before she blew the professional demeanor she’d used as her shield.
Jeb took the key, but instead of releasing her hand he drew it up to his mouth. Her gaze followed, and when he pressed her palm to his lips, white-hot heat shot straight to her pussy, weakening her knees. She looked into his eyes, and any attempts to stop the inevitable went up in a flash of the sexual connection they shared. His eyes were half-lidded, his pupils dilated despite the overhead light
s. Jeb was a man on fire.
Her body fell against his as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her to him in perfect timing for his lips to take hers fully. Jena let go of all the reasons she had to not do this, to remind herself that she and Jeb were over. His tongue was too persuasive, his hands too gentle as he stroked her back the way he knew she loved.
The kiss grew more heated, and she pressed her hips into his, groaning in frustration when she felt his erection but wasn’t tall enough to grind her heat against it. Jeb spun her around in one quick move, and her back connected with the kitchen wall. He grasped her thigh but didn’t have to lift her leg as she wrapped it around his waist. His erection pressed into her, and she thought she’d come while dressed, right there in the unfinished kitchen.
“Jeb!” He took advantage of her cry to move his attention to her throat, trailing his tongue down, down into her cleavage. When his free hand pulled her dress off her shoulder and reached in to grasp her breast, she gasped. The sensation of his fingers flicking her nipple while he ground his pelvis against hers was more than she could bear. Her breast was out of her bra, fully exposed to his ardent gaze and luscious attention as he twirled his tongue around her nipple, turning the rosy areola into a tight raspberry. The heat between her legs grew, and her pussy pulsed for him.
“Do you like that, Jena?” Before she could form a coherent answer, his hand was under her skirt, between her legs, his fingers pushing past her panties. When he touched her wetness, his groan vibrated through her chest.
“Oh, my God, Jeb, please, please—”
“Please what?” He didn’t make her tell him, didn’t wait. He knew what she wanted, what she needed, as he plunged two fingers into her slickness and played in her heat, stroking and rubbing her swollen sex as only he ever knew how to do.
“That. This. Oh, Jeb.” She leaned her head against the wall, pushing her shoulders into it so that she could bring her pussy closer to the pleasure his fingers promised. His mouth found the spot where her throat met her shoulder and he lightly dragged his teeth across her skin, his tongue swirling in time with his fingers. His thumb pressed on her clit, and the pressure hit her without warning and she screamed, the waves of her climax making her buck against his hand. Jeb covered her mouth with his, absorbing her cries.
He pulled back when her vocalization turned into raspy breathing, his face shocking her into stillness. She’d seen him turned on, his expression filled with want. She’d seen the shock and horror on his face when he’d found her, near death. But she’d never seen Jeb express such a primal need for her. His eyes blazed like a man with a fever, and he had a singular purpose stamped on his perfect features.
“Jena, I need this. Now.” He waited for her, waited for her decision.
“Whatever you want, babe.” Her voice wobbled with her need. She knew why he’d asked—because as much as Jeb was totally unself-conscious in bed, he was always a gentleman. She turned in his arms and lifted her skirt, pulled her panties off and kicked them aside. Placing her hands on the wall, she looked over her shoulder at him, her bare ass exposed for his view alone. “Is this what you want?”
His groan was more like a growl, and without hesitation he unbuckled his pants. She heard his zipper next, then the crinkle of a foil packet. He’d brought a condom to work. Her pussy clenched in anticipation, and she fought against the urge to turn and take his hard cock in her mouth. There’d be time for that later—right now, they were both so turned on and tuned into one another that there was no other way through their need than this.
“Hurry, Jeb.”
“Babe.” His hands were on her hips, drawing her up and against his hard length. His fingers moved over and inside her, spreading her slick heat in preparation for his next move.
“Jeb, please.” She barely got the words out, the tight curl of tension so taut, so focused on his touch.
“What, babe?” The tip of his cock was touching her pussy. She groaned, long and hard, her walls clenching and unclenching as if he were already inside—
He shoved into her in one single thrust, his hugeness and steel heat plunging into her very essence. She came before his pelvis touched her bare ass, before he’d retreated to plunge into her again and again, making her orgasm pummel through her only to start again, sending her into the place where all she felt—all she knew—was Jeb.
The third wave of pressure started to press deep inside her, where Jeb’s cock filled her again and again, his hands clutching her hips. Her fingers pressed against the wall, and she pressed back against him, countering his thrusts. She never wanted it to end.
Chapter 7
Jeb held on as long as he could, praying he’d last through at least one more of Jena’s cries. But he was only human, and her pussy was supernatural in its heat and slickness as it clamped around him, giving him sensations that were the definition of ecstasy.
“Come again for me, babe. Don’t hold back.”
“Jeb.” She turned his name into two sobbing syllables, her head twisting as her fingers splayed on the drywall, grasping for purchase. He lifted her hips higher and plundered her pussy with his cock, his need to be one with her far beyond sex or connection. His destiny and his fate were wrapped up into this moment, this time that was fleeting and infinite all at once.
Sweat dripped into his eye and he welcomed the sting, the slight distraction. It allowed him to hold off for one, two thrusts more. Until her pussy convulsed around him and her breathless cries ripped out of her, echoing off the bare wall. Jeb let loose his release then, an outwardly generous gesture but in reality purely selfish. Because he had his most intense, most satisfying sex only when Jena was fully sated.
He groaned, long and low, then laid his head on the curve of her back, just above her full ass. As his breath came back he kissed her back, moving up her spine with his mouth.
Jena sighed and straightened, and he took advantage of her position to fully cup both of her breasts. One was still in her bra, under the dress, and the other completely naked and so, so soft in his hand. He eased the break in their most intimate connection as he slid out of her, pressed his chest against her back.
Her hands covered his and she laid her forehead against the wall, still breathing heavily. He inhaled her scent, rubbed his cheek against her hair. When she turned in his arms, he waited, needing to see her face, her eyes. Jena’s eyes never let him down—they told him exactly how she felt.
“Hi.” She grinned shyly, and he saw something in her eyes he didn’t recognize. “That was…unexpected.”
“Jena.” He wasn’t a sentimental man, didn’t think he’d ever be moved to desperate behavior for a woman—like Brandon seemed to have done to win Poppy over, and how Henry not only took Sonja back after she’d jilted him and put his heart through the wringer, but now acted as if it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
But the lump in his throat wouldn’t allow more words. He soaked in her beauty, the wide blue eyes full of something he was unable to name, the glow of her skin that he knew he’d caused, the swollen red lips that he’d only begun to taste. It’d take a lifetime to explore the depths of Jena Boudreaux.
“What are you thinking?” She spoke in a whisper, and he cupped her jaw with one hand and stroked her heated skin with his thumb. His gaze caught on the scar, silver in the shadow his body cast between her and the bright lights, and he kissed it. Thanked his Maker that the cut hadn’t killed her, didn’t hurt her any longer. He refused to allow his mind to see her when she’d gotten the cut, before it’d been repaired. When he hadn’t known if she’d make it. He couldn’t speak, not yet, so he let his body do the talking.
He kissed her. And she opened her mouth to him, fully and without hesitation. With total trust. He told her everything he couldn’t find the words for, willed his emotions into each tongue stroke, each touch of his lips to hers. It wasn’t the frantic kiss of need from earlier, or
the purely sexual kisses they’d mastered over the past two years. This kiss was purely theirs. Jeb could stay here, in this moment, forever.
Her giggle stopped him. He pulled back and waited for her to open her eyes.
“What?”
“We’re standing in the unfinished kitchen of The Refuge, half-dressed, and you still haven’t, um, taken care of business.” She looked pointedly between his legs and he took a step back.
“Right. Be right back.” He went into the restroom just off the kitchen and cleaned himself up, and when he returned to the kitchen, he brought her a damp paper towel.
She was already put back together, and she gave him a rueful smile. “Thanks.” She took the paper towel and disappeared into the restroom. He let out a sigh—of what, he wasn’t sure. Relief, probably. They were back on familiar territory with the after-sex clean up, a return to things they’d always shared.
Unlike the emotions that had passed between them as they’d come together in the kitchen.
* * * *
Jena rinsed her face several times in cold water, not ready to listen to her heart about what had just happened between her and Jeb. She couldn’t. Of course they had amazing chemistry—that hadn’t changed. But what had passed between them just now wasn’t physiological. Their bodies had done their part, sure, but the heavy lifting was more emotional. Something deeper than a childhood bond. Something she didn’t ever want to name. Because if she did, her plans to move on, to accept Jeb’s previous line in the sand, would be impossible.
And he’d been very clear that their sexy friendship was over. No more friends with benefits. What had just happened was a statistical anomaly. It had to be.
She didn’t even bother to smooth her hair—she looked like a woman who’d been made passionate love to, and she had. So what?
Bracing herself to let Jeb know that she wouldn’t make more of the kitchen sex than need be, she walked out of the bathroom.