Throttle (Jack 'Em Up #3)

by Shauna Allen

  “I’d never hurt you.”

  My eyes flew up at his low, pained words and I realized I’d said all of that out loud.

  He leaned in and brushed my lips with his again. “I’d rip my heart out of my chest and toss it in the ocean before I’d hurt you, Tori.” His body was rigid beneath my hands. “God. Can’t you see I feel the same way and it scares the hell out of me?”

  “You do?”

  “I do.” His deep eyes met mine in the darkness. “And I have so much more to lose if you break my heart . . . because you’d break Ryder’s too, and I’ve spent the last seven years protecting us both.”

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  I wanted to melt right into him. I would’ve done anything to reassure him, but nothing seemed sufficient. Instead, I wrapped myself up into his embrace as close as I could get and kissed the pulse of his throat. “Take me home,” I whispered.

  The ride home was tense, our spoken and unspoken words pulsing between us as alive as we were. We’d crossed an invisible bridge tonight and we both knew it. As we neared my apartment, I was suddenly overcome with a feeling of contentment. This felt right. It always had with him, when I wasn’t busy second guessing myself at every turn.

  He parked and killed the engine, leaving us in the hushed darkness of his car, our breathing filling the space. I didn’t want to break the bubble by speaking, so I quietly slipped out and headed to the front door, trusting him to follow and see this through.

  He did not disappoint.

  In my room, I lit one of my candles then spun to face him. Hovering in my doorway, his face serious, contemplative, he stole my breath.

  I remembered my mom telling me once that when you met ‘The One’ you just knew it, deep in your soul. She’d felt that way when she met my dad and hadn’t ever found it again. I was certain now that I knew what she meant. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would lead me to the same fate . . . desperate and alone, the love of my life lost to me.

  Did that make it worth pushing this precious gift away?

  Absolutely not.

  Keeping my gaze locked on his, I slid out of my shoes then reached for the zipper on my dress. I let it fall to a puddle on the floor, baring myself to him in my lacy demibra and thong.

  He continued to study me, silent.

  Behind him, a neighbor’s car lights filtered through the front window, painting him in white for just a moment. Long enough to see the hunger in his eyes.

  Still, he didn’t move.

  Ever-so-slowly, I slid the straps of my bra down my arms, my breath heaving raggedly through my chest. I was sure if he looked close enough, he would see my heart beating against my ribs, fighting for flight.

  Unclasping the front, I let the bra slide off my arms to the floor with my dress. His eyes flared and he gripped the doorframe for support. I wondered how I looked to him. Did I look like the wanton, flushed woman I felt? Or something more?

  I ran my hands to my hips and began to push my panties down my legs. The night air kissed my nude flesh, flicks of electricity in the air nipping at me. God, I wanted him to touch me. But apparently he was going to allow me to take the lead and put my own demons to rest.

  This was more than serious between us, and we both knew it.

  I moved toward the softly flickering light of the candle, inhaling the soft, sexy, tropical scent as I reclined back on the bed, my down comforter pillowing my hot skin.

  I waited while he watched me silently, like a lion stalking his kill. I wasn’t ashamed or self-conscious. I knew he wanted me and he would take me. He was simply building the anticipation. There was no doubt in my mind he would pounce in his own sweet time.

  I inhaled deeply, my breasts rising in invitation. My fingertips trailed along my chest, my belly. Lower. I lingered above my imaginary panty line, spreading my legs a fraction. Just enough.

  His fingers moved to the buttons on his shirt. I would’ve sworn I felt the heat of his body across the room as he slowly popped each one, exposing his chest and hips in his low-slung jeans. He added his shirt to the pile with my dress and lingerie then reached for his belt. It slithered from his belt loops like a lazy snake and fell to the floor.

  He toed off his boots as he pulled a condom from his pocket and flung it toward the bed. I snatched it up and watched as he unsnapped his jeans and let them fall.

  Commando.

  I licked my lips at the sight of him, hot, hard and ready.

  He strode over, his lithe body full of purpose and oozing sensuality. He reached out and ran a fingertip up my instep. Instinctively I drew my foot away, biting back a smile.

  “Are we good now?” he asked, his voice and body vibrating tension.

  I met his eyes, seeing the vulnerability shining back at me. “Yes. We’re good. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He crawled up my body. “I want you to tell me what’s on your mind. Don’t hold anything back from me.” We were skin to skin and I was bathed in his earthy scent, mixed with salt and sandalwood. “I know we’re figuring all of this out, but we can’t have secrets.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He pressed his lips just under my ear, whispering, “Now, no more talking. I’m going to make love to you.”

  “Okay . . .” My response was more of a heady groan and I felt his smile against my throat.

  “No.” Kiss.

  “More.” Lick.

  “Talking.” Suckle.

  I moaned, melting into the bed, and nodded.

  No more talking.

  I’d do anything to keep his mouth on my body; to keep this fragile emotion that cocooned us from dissolving like a bubble.

  Instead of thinking or speaking, I abandoned myself to the dream, simply feeling. Closing my eyes, I let him make love to me.

  I woke up to a soft, pattering rain at my windows and Trace’s warm body spooned around mine, our legs tangled, his arm around my waist, his breath brushing my neck.

  I’d never felt more content or safe and I took a moment to relish the sensations. I studied his hand on my belly and gently placed my palm over it, in awe of the size difference.

  In sleep, his lips found my nape and I shivered.

  There was no doubt about it. I was in love with him. Fully, wholeheartedly, one hundred percent in. The question was, what should I do about it?

  Nothing, I decided as I linked my small fingers through his. Not now, anyway.

  “Good morning.” His gritty, sleep-coated voice was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

  “Good morning.”

  He shifted and nudged me to face him, tucking my leg over his hip, a sleepy smile on his face. “How’d you sleep?”

  “You mean that nap you let me have?”

  His grin was unrepentant. “What can I say? You’re a nympho.”

  “Me?”

  We laughed and he kissed me. I pulled back and pressed a hand to my mouth. “Morning breath.”

  “You smell like a rose.”

  “Right.” I smacked a kiss to his cheek and rolled out of bed to pee and brush my teeth. We could pick all that up later. “What time do you have to go pick up Ryder?”

  “Not until late this afternoon,” he answered, his voice muffled as I closed the bathroom door. “Mrs. Callahan usually takes him somewhere fun after lunch when she gets him.”

  I peeked out, my toothbrush paused in my mouth. “We have all day?”

  His dimple winked at me as he took in my foamy mouth and rumpled hair. “We do.”

  I turned and spit in the sink. When I glanced up, he was behind me, his smile syrupy sweet in the mirror. Wiping my mouth, I spun to face him. “What’ll we do with ourselves?”

  He cupped my hip with a large hand. “Oh, I can think of a few things. But first . . .” He kissed the tip of my nose. “I want to cook you breakfast.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. But I’ve seen your cabinets. I’ll have to run to the store first. TV dinners and Ramen,
a home-cooked breakfast do not make.”

  “Careful. You might spoil me.”

  “Oh, that’s my plan. Now . . .” He bumped me out of the way and lifted my wet toothbrush with a questioning lift of his brows. I nodded and he reloaded it with toothpaste to brush his own teeth. When he was all rinsed, he flashed his best cheesy grin in the mirror, showing off his pearly whites.

  I let him talk me into a shower, and as cramped as it was in my tiny stall, we made do. Wet-haired and in lazy day clothes, we perused the grocery store aisles, holding hands. It felt like we were a real, honest-to-God couple.

  We nearly had our basket full of food for the day when we rounded the corner to hit the produce. I glanced up and my laughter died on my lips.

  Trace stopped his joke mid-sentence and I felt him tense beside me.

  “Everett,” I said, hating that I felt the blush starting up my cheeks. What did I have to be embarrassed or ashamed of?

  Everett’s watered-down brown eyes took us in a moment, ending on my damp hair, before a fake smile tugged his lips. “Good morning, Miss Waters.” He tipped his head in Trace’s direction, his gaze calculating, as if trying to figure out where he’d seen him before. “Hello.”

  Trace nodded, but remained silent.

  Okay, time to go. I tugged the end of our basket. “Well, have a good day, Everett.”

  He mumbled a response that I couldn’t make out as we walked away, but I felt his gaze boring into my back.

  Trace was quiet as we loaded our food onto the conveyer belt at the checkout counter. I finally peered up at him. His jaw was rigid, his eyes glittering coldly. I questioned him with my eyes.

  “Waldo is a douche,” was his clipped reply. “And I know he’s your boss and you’re trying to keep it professional, but if he undresses you with his eyes again, I may have to kill him.”

  My mouth sagged open. “Undress . . . ? What are you talking about?”

  The girl at the counter wasn’t very good at being subtle in her eavesdropping as she began to scan our groceries.

  “Oh, come on, Tori.”

  “Come on, nothing. That’s absurd.”

  Trace’s voice dropped. “I’m a dude. Trust me. He wants in your pants and I don’t trust him.” He spun away and paid the cashier, snatching up our bags and heading outside at a fast clip.

  I scrambled to catch up. “Wait.”

  He tossed the groceries into the trunk of his Chevy then faced me, brow lifted.

  “Everett . . . he’s a bit skeevy, but I doubt he wants me like that.” Why did it sound like I was defending him? I sighed, glancing away as I realized it wasn’t about Everett at all. I didn’t want Trace unhappy. I peered back up into his stormy green eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want him. I barely like him. We work together and that’s it. You’re my . . .”

  His gaze gradually softened and a smile flirted with the corner of his mouth. “I’m your what?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I took in his smirk. He was testing me. “You’re my sex slave. Now get in the car and take me home so you can cook for me before I have my way with you again.”

  A beaming grin overtook his face like an eclipse. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That’s ‘Yes, Master’ to you.”

  Shaking his head with a laugh, he opened my door and we went home, where he stuffed me with French toast and sausage and let me take advantage of him as promised.

  It was horrible.

  Horribly perfect.

  Trace

  September rolled into October like a dream. Soft around the edges and as flawless as the stars, but so fast it felt like it never happened at all. Like a memory that slips through your fingers.

  Tori and I had settled into a routine of sorts. We exchanged sexy texts during the week, sneaking in whatever time together we could between work, Ryder’s practices and games, and my Homeroom Dad stuff. I’d even been invited back to her mom’s house for another meal, where Hope peppered me with kid-like questions, including if I was going to marry her sister.

  Thank God for Ryder and his occasional bouts of clumsiness. Spilling his milk at the table at the most opportune time, diverted the discussion and saved me from answering.

  Now, snuggled up with Tori on the couch on Halloween morning, I thought about the question again. I had no idea what our future held. We both had baggage. And as much as we’d given to each other over these past couple months, we were also holding back. I needed her as much as I wanted her, and that neediness made me fight myself all the more. It was beginning to feel like I was fighting a losing battle.

  Outside, the fall sunshine was making everything glisten like gems and the air held the promise of a chill. Ryder was on his belly, playing intently with his Hot Wheels cars, crashing them and making screeching sounds as they outran each other. The television droned quietly in the background, the Saturday morning anchor talking about Halloween treats.

  Tori was warm and soft in my arms, the sweet scent of her shampoo filling my senses, the curves of her body melting into mine like my long lost other half.

  I kissed the crown of her head. “I was thinking of doing burgers for dinner. Something easy before taking Ry trick-or-treating. What do you think?”

  She peered up at me, her faint dusting of freckles illuminated in the sunshine. “That’s fine with me, but shouldn’t we do something nicer?”

  “Nicer?”

  “For your parents.”

  She was nervous about meeting my folks. How adorable. “Nah. They’re easy. I’m sure they’ve had enough fancy food in Europe this summer to last them a while. They’ll probably appreciate a good ol’ fashioned burger.”

  She didn’t seem convinced.

  “It’ll be fine.” I tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “They’re gonna love you.” I nearly said ‘like I love you,’ but let that particular revelation slide away. It was not time for that. It might never be time for that.

  On the TV, the news flipped to a story about the suspected serial rapist that had been terrorizing women in Baybridge and surrounding communities. The sketch that Jewel had rendered based upon the victim’s accounts flashed onscreen and Tori tensed beside me. If you squinted your eyes just right, it looked a tiny bit like that sleazeball, Everett, she worked with. Especially around the eyes. But this guy was supposedly red-headed with swastika tattoos on his neck.

  I caressed her arm. “Have you given any more thought to taking Micah’s self-defense class at the gym?”

  She shrugged under my hand. “Maybe.”

  “I could get him to teach you a few moves in private if you want.” I turned her chin so she faced me. “I don’t want you scared of that asshole.” Honestly, it freaked me the fuck out that there was some sicko out there who seemed to have a taste for blondes. If anything happened to Tori . . .

  I swallowed an anxious breath.

  I’d toyed with the idea of asking her to move in with me about a hundred times, but I never let the words out. It might be too confusing for Ryder, for one. It was also a huge step in a relationship, and I wasn’t sure either of us were ready. I wasn’t the only one with trust issues. We’d talked late into the night more than once about her father and how she felt about him abandoning their family.

  Then, of course, I was still battling the Kristi issue. She’d only called once since her hasty departure, and I’d ignored the call, hoping she’d simply go away again. With Jesse and Tori’s prodding, I’d met with Rachel to talk legal stuff, but it was a big, expensive, confusing mess.

  Ry glanced up from the floor. “How much longer ‘til MeeMee and Papaw get here?”

  “Not until dinnertime, Buddy.”

  He blinked up at me then went back to his drag race.

  I forked my hands through Tori’s hair and leaned to whisper in her ear. “Come with me to the bedroom. I have a Halloween treat for you.”

  Her face flushed bright crimson. “Seriously? Now?” She tipped her head toward Ryder.

  I laughed. “Get your mind o
ut of the gutter. It’s a real treat.” I rose and offered my hand. “Promise.”

  After studying me a long moment, she accepted my help and stood.

  “Be right back, Ry. Gotta show Miss Tori something real quick, then we’ll figure out lunch, okay?”

  “’Kay.” He didn’t even look up.

  I led Tori down the hall, my heart suddenly speeding like a Lamborghini on the track. Was this a stupid idea? I’d never bought a gift for a woman who wasn’t family, and I wasn’t sure I’d done it right. Too late now.

  Tori beamed like a kid on Christmas morning from her perch on the edge of my bed when I handed her the small box wrapped in silver.

  Accepting it with trembling hands, her wide, wet eyes met mine. “What’s this for?”

  I shrugged. “I saw it and thought of you.”

  She stared down at the package like it was the Holy Grail.

  “It’s no big deal. Open it.”

  She slid her finger under the flap delicately and slid the box from the side of the wrap as if afraid to rip it. I smiled at her exactness. Such a girl.

  Finally, she opened the box and peered inside.

  My stomach clenched. Was it too cheesy? Too romantic? Did it say too much?

  She held up the silver bracelet and examined the miniature pendants I’d hand selected for her. A smile bloomed on her face when she came to the miniature car.

  “For me,” I said.

  She grinned up at me. “And the football? For Ryder?”

  “Yeah.”

  She spun it all the way around. “And this one?”

  “A monkey.”

  “I see that. Why a monkey?” Happy eyes met mine.

  “For where we met. At the Funky Monkey.”

  “Oh.” She studied it a moment longer, giving me no clue as to what she was thinking other than the tender smile on her face.

  “There’s room. To add more.” I swallowed. “If you want.”

  Standing, she held out her wrist. “Help me put it on?”

  “Sure.” With big, bumbling fingers, I clasped it around her tiny wrist. “There ya go. Do you like it?”

  Leaning up on tiptoe, she brushed a kiss to my lips. “I love it. It’s beautiful. And thoughtful. Thank you.”