Savor the Danger

by Lori Foster

  His total lack of inhibition had left her free to be less inhibited.

  She swallowed audibly—and stared some more.

  He sat with his long legs loose, one foot braced on a step, the other stretched out, his elbows back, his breathing deep and even.

  Alani licked her lips and started to slowly, silently retreat.

  “Don’t make me chase you, darlin’.”

  Shock snapped her shoulders back. The big faker!

  He’d been watching her watch him… Ohhhhh. “I thought you were asleep!”

  “And so you figured you could rape me with your pretty eyes? Or will you deny that?”

  If she had a rock close by, she’d throw it at him. Teeth set, Alani asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Whatever it takes.” Lazily, he sat upright. Muscles flexed. His shirt pulled tight. With a thumb, he tipped back his hat. Sweat dampened his temples, leaving the ends of his dark blond hair curly. “Where you been anyway? I’ve been baking out here for hours.”

  Something in his tone sounded…off. He was just as outrageous as always, but the cocky edge had waned, almost as if he was sick or worried, or both. She didn’t care.

  “It’s none of your business, Jackson.”

  The barely perceptible curling of his mouth alarmed her. “Full of spice this afternoon, huh?”

  Determined to brazen her way through things, Alani put back her shoulders and charged forward. “I’m full of disgust.”

  His mouth firmed. “At what we…did?”

  Uncertainty didn’t suit him at all. “At myself, actually.” Breath held, she stepped around Jackson, but he didn’t touch her. At the front door she shifted the bags into one arm and, with fumbling hands, fished her keys from her purse. “I should have known better than to—”

  His mouth skimmed the back of her neck. Low, sultry, he suggested, “Let’s talk about what we did.”

  Fire raced down her spine, and her legs turned to noodles. In an instant, Alani’s mind took her back to his bed where he’d kissed her nape just like that while he slowly took her—doggy-style, he’d called it—from behind, burying himself deep, his arms around her, his hands holding her breasts….

  “Stop it!” She shoved the door open and tried to slam it closed again. It bounced off Jackson’s shoulder.

  She raced in.

  Of course he followed.

  Making a beeline for her kitchen, she said with as much venom as she could manage given the fluttering of her stomach, “Get out.”

  Not more than two steps behind her, his boot heels sounded on her tile floor.

  Her packages held in front of her like a shield, Alani spun around to face him. She sounded far too panicked when she screeched, “I mean it, Jackson!”

  He stopped and stared at her. Tension crackled between them.

  For a few seconds there, Jackson looked as if he might leap on her, but instead, he chewed his bottom lip, then retreated a step, moving as if not to startle her.

  Cajoling, he said, “Take it easy, okay?”

  Given the riot of emotions clamoring inside her, taking it easy wasn’t an option. “Don’t placate me!”

  Without a word, he set his hat on the counter and tipped his head. Fists low on his lean hips, expression enigmatic, he studied her, all of her. Suddenly her casual, comfy sundress felt insubstantial. Around Jackson, she needed a damn suit of armor.

  The concentrated scrutiny left her fidgeting, too warm and vulnerable.

  In a rough whisper, he said, “God’s truth, darlin’, I don’t mean to ride roughshod over your feelings, but I need to see you again.” And before she could react to the hunger in his tone, he added, “I don’t suppose we could put this little confrontation on hold long enough for me to appease my curiosity?”

  Curiosity? He’d already seen her in great detail throughout the long night. He hadn’t been shy about looking, either.

  Where Trace and Dare treated her with kid gloves, Jackson just treated her like a woman he wanted. It was sort of nice in small doses…when he didn’t go overboard.

  In light of all that had transpired, his outrageous suggestion was way over the line. Alani threw the clothing bags at him.

  The packages landed against his chest and then hit the floor.

  He barely flinched at the assault. “I take that as a no?”

  “No!”

  He cocked a brow at her outburst and then caught her as she tried to shove around him. He was so big and so solidly muscular, it proved too easy for him to wrap her up in his arms and lock her in close, her back against his chest, his forearms under her breasts. “Shh, baby. Don’t.”

  Those sultry memories, along with his heat and scent and sex appeal, enveloped her as surely as his body did. Desperate, almost panicked, Alani demanded, “Let me go.”

  She felt him flinch, wrapped tight around her. “Sorry, love. Can’t.”

  Love. He would dare to use that word now? Her throat tightened in a panic. “Jackson—”

  His breath moved past her ear as he whispered, “Give me just a sec, okay?”

  She heard the pain in his words, and that calmed her struggle.

  “Better,” he breathed and relaxed his hold.

  Worry overtook outrage, and she tried to twist to see him. “What’s wrong?”

  The tension intensified, and then he said, “I don’t remember a damned thing.”

  “About what?”

  He rocked her a little, and his voice lowered even more. “Everything. I’m…blank.”

  She didn’t understand, but she picked up on his agony, so she stopped straining away from him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know what happened, honey. With us, with anything.” He hugged her, his chin on the top of her head. “Yesterday is just…gone.”

  Disbelieving, Alani jerked around to see him. Standing in the circle of his arms, her hands on his chest, she had to tip her head way back to see his face. “What do you mean, gone?”

  Ill at ease, he shrugged. “All I remember is waking up with the king-daddy of all migraines, a wallop of confusion….” He shifted, drawing her closer to his body. His voice went hoarse. “And there you were, in the raw beside me.”

  Her heart almost stopped. “But…” She shoved him back accusingly. “You told me you hadn’t been drinking.”

  “Did I?” He ran a hand through his dark blond hair, then pulled off the sunglasses. “Because I don’t remember that, either. Hell, I don’t even remember talking to you.”

  Immediately sidetracked, Alani strangled on a breath. “Oh my God, Jackson.” Never had she seen eyes so bloodshot. Sympathy welled up. “You look—”

  “Like shit, I know. Feel like it, too, believe me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut a second, then snapped them open again. “We had sex?”

  Good grief, he had a one-track mind. But then she’d found that out last night. She winced as she took in his expression. The whites of his eyes looked blood-red, making the green seem more vivid. But even miserable, his direct gaze managed to keep her snared. “You honestly expect me to believe you don’t remember?”

  One large, warm hand hooked her nape, lifting her to her tiptoes so he could kiss her once, hard and fast. “I woke up with my vision dicked, my brain on fire and my guts brawling. And then I saw you, in bed, beside me.” He went gruff with arousal. “You looked so incredible, it’s a wonder that didn’t send me right over the edge.”

  “But it did, remember?” She went nose to nose with him and prompted, “You threw up.”

  Rather than retreat, he moved in until he surrounded her with his size and his determination. “Woman, there is no way you think you were the cause of that.”

  She should have put space between them, but it felt so good being close to him again. It seemed that last night had left her addicted; all morning long, her body had mourned the loss of his scent, the heat of his touch. With less conviction than she intended, she asked, “No?”

/>   “Hell, no.” Restless, his hands kneaded her back. “You looked so hot, I wish I’d taken a photo. I wish I had you painted on the ceiling. Looking at you buck-ass might revive me, and it’ll definitely give me wood, but it would never repulse me or—”

  Flustered by his brazen language, Alani smashed her fingers over his mouth. “Just…stop.”

  She felt his relieved smile.

  And then she felt his tongue.

  Quickly, she tucked her hand behind her. When his strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, keeping her in that vulnerable position, she realized her mistake.

  “Let’s put it to the test.” He leaned in, his hot breath brushing her cheek, the top of her shoulder. “Let’s get you out of this little dress and we’ll see how I react.”

  “Oh, for the love of—”

  “I swear, darlin’, I might implode…” His mouth opened on her shoulder in a stirring love bite. “But I won’t be ill. Not even close.”

  “Jackson, please.” She tried to retreat two steps—and he reluctantly released her. “I don’t understand any of this. You need to give me time to think.”

  “Maybe you’d think better naked.” He touched the hem of her dress and murmured more to himself than to her, “It’d be pretty easy to get you out of this—”

  Infuriated, she slapped his hand away and glared at him.

  “Okay, okay.” Frowning, he gestured his subdued agreement. “Think away.”

  How could he not remember anything? What he’d said, what he’d done… All the things she’d said and done, the things she sort of regretted now.

  “How is this possible?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So just like that,” she asked with skepticism, “you’ve lost the details of last night?”

  “That’s about it.”

  Humiliation hung with her, but knowing he had no memory of it alleviated a big part of the regret. She gave him a sideways look. “This is sort of convenient.”

  He shook his head. “I hear the suspicious tone, babe, but I’m not firing on all cylinders today, so you’ll have to spell it out for me. No way in hell does any of this seem convenient to me.”

  Could he be telling the truth rather than dodging responsibility for his actions of last night? Maybe. After all, she’d left him with no obligation, and she’d promised not to tell anyone. He had no real reason to pretend he’d forgotten it all.

  Thinking aloud, she said, “It’s just that it’s so unreal.” What would explain such a thing?

  “Tell me about it.” Gaze hot and far too intense, he bent his knees to search her face. “Did I get inside you, sugar? I’m dying to know.”

  Wide-eyed, Alani turned to give him her back. Jackson’s effect on her was enough that, even with so many unanswered questions, she wanted to rush him into the bedroom and do it all again. But that would be dumb. If she slept with him again, she wanted the time to talk and clear the air first.

  Besides, he didn’t exactly look able to do all those awesomely amazing things again. But on the tail end of that thought, he stepped closer again and she felt a solid erection nudging her backside.

  “Jackson!” Never in her life had she done so much screeching. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Suffering. You gotta tell me something here, Alani. Please.”

  Frustrated, she snapped, “Can’t you turn it off for just a minute? We need to talk.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Red-eyed and a little shaky, he still sounded and looked on the make. It was there in his voice, the set of his hard shoulders, the probing way he watched her. “Since the day I laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted to get you out of your panties. You know it, because I wasn’t shy about it.”

  “Certainly not.” He’d been overwhelmingly obvious.

  “And now it seems like I finally did, but damn it all, I can’t remember it. Before you can expect me to concentrate on anything else, you gotta put me out of my misery.”

  Her mouth pinched; she forced herself to face him again. “Okay, so maybe you don’t remember, but still you know.” He wasn’t an idiot. Waking up with her naked, wrapped around him, smiling like a satisfied sap, had to be a pretty good clue.

  His gaze stroked over her features. “I’m assuming.” His interest settled on her mouth. “I’m hoping. But I need the details.” He caressed her shoulders. “Damn, woman, do I ever need the details.”

  Yes, to some extent he probably did. That’d only be fair. But she’d be judicious. She’d tell him only the basics. All the rest, her overblown moans and begging, the things he’d done to her, the things she loved him doing…no way would she tell him any of that.

  Not looking at him helped, but just a little. She swallowed and whispered, “You…we…”

  “Had sex?”

  Sex didn’t quite cover it, but she nodded and took a breath. “Yes.”

  Muscled arms came around her once more, cuddling her close, his hold somehow pleased and possessive. “It was good?”

  Could Jackson Savor be insecure about his performance? Actually, that’d make sense for anyone who couldn’t remember. She nodded.

  He growled low, “Did you come?”

  She tried to lurch away, but instead she found herself turned into him, her breasts against his chest, his heartbeat matching her own.

  As if he already sensed the answer—and liked it—he got that seductive, lazy look about him. “Did you?”

  Face hot, she nodded. “I…yes.”

  Mouth curling the smallest bit, he whispered, “A wimpy little come, or a really smokin’ hot, screaming orgasm?”

  Memories battered her, wearing her down until her mouth went dry. Rather than admit too much, she settled on saying, “Um…not wimpy.”

  He expanded on a deeply indrawn breath. “Did I go down on you?”

  Oh, lord. She felt it all again, that insane spiraling of pleasure, growing tighter and tighter, the touch of his cool hair and rough jaw on the insides of her thighs, his velvet tongue, the gentle bite of his teeth.

  The tugging of his mouth as he sucked on her most sensitive flesh.

  Her breath labored, and…she nodded.

  Jackson’s muscles bunched, his nostrils flared. His voice going thick and hot, he asked, “Did you come then, too, darlin’? With my mouth on you?”

  Her orgasm had been so incredible, she’d wept. But she couldn’t bring herself to be that explicit. She licked her lips and, in a mere breath of sound, admitted, “Yes.”

  Putting his forehead to hers, Jackson groaned like a man in agony.

  Alani touched his chest. Heat, strength, safety. He was all of that and so much more. But why couldn’t he remember? “Were you sick, Jackson? Is that why you can’t remember?” Looking at the morning in a new way, she realized he’d been seriously ill.

  And she’d stormed out on him.

  Flushed with shame, she cupped a hand around his neck. “Are you all right now?”

  “All right? Hell, no. I’m tortured by what I can’t remember.” He covered her hand with his, lifted it to his mouth to kiss her palm. “After all that time of me wanting you so bad, and you turning me down flat, how the hell did I finally manage to win you over?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT WASN’T EASY for Alani to accept that he truly couldn’t recall a single detail. She’d suffered so much angst over her gullibility, over behavior that, for all intents and purposes, no longer mattered.

  Except that she wanted to do it again.

  Unwilling to expose her heart, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “C’mon, darlin’. Something swayed you.” He tried a strained half smile. “Help me out here.”

  Because Jackson looked so agonized, she tried to give him the simplest of truths. “It doesn’t matter anymore, but it was the things you said as much as anything you did.”

  “Yeah?” He brought up her chin, leaving her no choice but to look into his deep green eyes. “Like what?”

  He ke
pt touching her with an implied intimacy, stroking, nuzzling. She’d just spent hours coming to grips with the idea that she’d succumbed to a one-night stand, yet he acted as though they’d just begun a long affair.

  She discounted everything he’d said last night, but still…did he want more?

  If so, how much more?

  He trailed his fingers over her cheek, around her neck, over her bare shoulder.

  She shivered. Jackson might be sick from whatever had taken his memory, but he was still the quintessential primal male. Always.

  At least…that’s how he always was with her.

  Was he like that with every woman? Probably. Even Dare’s and Trace’s wives had noted Jackson’s good looks and sex appeal.

  Shaking her head, Alani refused to think about it. “It was just…things you said. That’s all.” Things he’d promised, commitments he’d insinuated. “I guess it’s the stuff guys say to women when they want to talk them into bed.”

  That made him frown. “Like what? Compliments? Big deal. When have I ever not complimented you?”

  Sure, Jackson did a lot of sweet-talking—while on the make. “No, this was different.” This had felt more genuine, wrought from emotion and not just lust.

  “How?” His attention drifted to her chest. “I bet I told you how damn sexy you are.”

  Resisting an eye roll wasn’t easy. Later he had called her sexy, but at that point they’d already been on a heated path to lovemaking and she’d felt sexy.

  She wasn’t sure she could pinpoint the moment that she’d known she would sleep with him, but that day he’d been different. Not more intense, because that wasn’t possible. Jackson was always intense.

  But from the second she’d walked in the door, he’d looked at her, touched her and spoken to her differently.

  He’d spoken from his heart—or so she’d thought.

  Renewed embarrassment made her defensive. “Actually, you said I’m pretty.” And that was both sweeter and more touching than claiming her “hot” or “sexy.” Those sentiments had been expressed by the men who’d taken her, the men who’d manhandled her, restrained her, touched her, the men who’d planned to—