Savor the Danger

by Lori Foster

  Her drowsy eyes studied him, but in the end she shrugged and settled back down again. She got comfortable with her thigh over his, her hand resting over his heart. “One thing, Jackson.”

  He swallowed back a groan and waited.

  “I might not have a lot to compare with, but I’m sure you do, so you have to know that the sex, at least for me, has been nothing short of amazing.”

  A fair start. “You can thank me later—when you’re better rested.” With Alani, he wanted to be more than amazing.

  Now, tomorrow…and for the foreseeable future, he wanted to be the only one.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  MARC TOBIN GOT ONE EYE OPEN. The other eye…he didn’t know. He hurt so bad, in places he’d never thought of, muscles he’d never used. He tasted old blood in his mouth, smelled new blood on his clothes.

  Pinpricks of pain ran up and down his arms. They’d been tied behind him for what felt like days, but he really had no concept of the time that had passed. All he knew with certainty was that he had to get away, or they’d kill him.

  He’d told them all he knew, but it was never enough.

  Jesus, when it came down to it, he didn’t know Alani all that well, and he barely knew Jackson at all.

  His tormentors didn’t buy it—or else they didn’t care.

  He wanted his old life back, the security of money, social connections, the power of prestige and respect from peers. He thought of the fists that had hit him. Black leather gloves. Cruel eyes staring through a mask. Guttural questions and more questions, coming rapidfire whether he had answers or not.

  He’d dated Alani on a casual basis. He’d met Jackson twice, not counting that last time when the shots were fired, when he’d thought to escape, when someone had clubbed him in the back of the head and later awakened him with a punch to the gut.

  It hurt to breathe, but he had to. If he ever wanted to get away, this might be his only chance.

  Once, when they’d opened the door to his small cell, he’d seen trees. Sky. Outdoors.

  He wasn’t in a room in a bigger building, but rather a small, isolated structure. Maybe a shed. Or a garage of sorts.

  No windows, but filtered sunlight crept in around a crack between the wall and floor, beneath the old door and in a vent in the ceiling.

  He couldn’t lock his broken jaw, but he did his utmost to stifle grunts of misery as he struggled to pull his arms free. Blood and sweat wet the binding around his wrists, now loosened from his involuntary jerking of pain during the last “questioning.”

  For now, the room was empty. Dark. Smelling of his fear and pain.

  Agony ripped through him, but he pulled at his right hand, leaning forward, praying he didn’t do more damage to his abused body—and finally his hand came free.

  It so surprised Marc that he slumped forward for a second, panting, fighting the blackness that closed in around him, before he finally realized what had happened.

  He studied his hand. Blood covered his skin, looking obscene in and around his swollen fingers. He was certain a few were broken, given they were black, blue, oddly bent.

  His stomach recoiled. Puking would only hurt more, and it’d definitely slow him down, so he swallowed convulsively until the nausea abated.

  He was a strong man, capable of fighting for what he wanted, insisting when necessary. He’d faced off with more than one confrontation, dealt with more than one conflict. He was fit, athletic, more physical than most.

  But he’d never been through anything like this. Not even close.

  Given the abuse he’d suffered, it took him long, agonizing minutes to free his other hand and his feet. When he stood, his right knee wanted to give out. But by God, he’d crawl if he had to. Using the chair, he steadied himself.

  He was leaving here. Now.

  Praying he would find the door unlocked, he hobbled over to it, turned the doorknob—and inhaled in relief as it slid open.

  He peeked outside, but he saw no one standing guard. A drizzling, miserable summer rain soaked everything in sight, leaving the muddy ground sodden, the sky dark gray. Off in the distance, through sparse woods, sat an old stone building. It looked dilapidated and abandoned.

  But then he heard…sounds. Awful sounds. Moans, cries.

  Begging.

  Oh, God. Frantic for escape, he looked around, but everywhere he saw woods and more woods. He didn’t know which way to go, so he started walking away from that stone house, from the shed that had imprisoned him. Praying more, he put as much distance between him and the suffering as he could.

  As he made his way along, he remembered their exchanges. Early on he’d tried to bargain with them, but they cared nothing about his financial offers. When he’d threatened legal repercussions, they’d laughed. Stop fighting it. There’s nothing you can do. Nowhere you can go. No one to help you. Even if you made it away from here and got to the police, they’d never find us.

  But we’d find you. Never doubt it.

  And he didn’t. Oh, he’d go to the police. Eventually. But God willing, if he made it out of the woods alive, he’d find a hospital first, and then he’d call the only person he could think of who might actually be able to keep him safe.

  He’d call that crazy fucker Jackson.

  IT RAINED FOR THREE DAYS.

  All his plans to take Alani out on the lake, to skinny-dip with her, to explore his property together, were pushed aside…for endless sex.

  As per his plan, he’d taken advantage of the close confines.

  Just that morning he’d awakened to thunderstorms that shook his house. It made him horny. But then, as irregular as it seemed, a stiff breeze could make him urgent with lust when he had Alani within reach.

  As crackling lightning split the dark sky, he’d kissed Alani awake, then kept on kissing her—everywhere—until she’d cried out in a rush of pleasure.

  Only after she’d insisted had he rolled on a condom and slid inside her. She’d moaned with verve, clung to him, bit his shoulder.

  But other than saying she couldn’t get enough, other than praising him and doing a little sexual praying— Oh God, oh God—she hadn’t confessed a damn thing.

  That was hours ago.

  Midday, rays of sunshine finally cut through the gray skies. His third day with her.

  And yet, nothing had changed. Or it hadn’t changed enough.

  Wearing only jeans, his chest and feet bare, Jackson stood on the covered patio and let the humid breeze drift over his body. Thanks to the rain, the air was fresh but thick. He filled his lungs and watched the waves on the shore.

  He should have felt peaceful. Since arriving at his house, he’d been sating himself on Alani’s body, soaking up her smiles, her sighs, and at the height of pleasure, her lusty groans of release.

  He loved the raw, real sounds she made, her naturalness during sex. Physically, she never held back from him.

  She gave him her body. But her heart? Her mind?

  Damn it, he didn’t know. As an astute man in all things, and especially a man who knew women well, Jackson could tell something wasn’t one-hundred percent right.

  Around making love to Alani, he’d kept to a schedule of sorts. He made use of his gym to burn off excess energy when Alani fell asleep on him. He worked on his house whenever she wanted time on his computer to search out interior designs—usually for decorating one of his rooms.

  He loved it that she took an interest, and so far, her suggestions had been perfect. Soon as they could, he’d take her with him to hit up a store. Together they’d pick out more furnishings for him.

  They took turns cooking, with her mostly doing breakfast, and him grilling their dinner on the back porch under the overhang. They often soaked in the Jacuzzi tub together, and each night they slept entwined.

  But it wasn’t enough. Jackson had the burning need for more.

  A lot more.

  As usual, he felt Alani’s presence the moment she joined him. He turned to find her at the patio
doors, her face clean of makeup, her hair in a loose braid.

  She wore a bikini, and like him, her feet were bare.

  “God Almighty, woman.” His mouth went dry. “That’s some sexy icing on the cake.”

  “I’m glad I thought to include it when I packed.” Her shy smile didn’t fool him; she knew the effect she’d have.

  The slinky white material, edged by black lace, clung to her body. It showed off the outline of her nipples and every plump seam of her sex.

  Jackson reached for her, but she darted back and held a beach towel in front of her body.

  “I’m going swimming.”

  “No, you’re not.” He was already hard and getting harder by the second.

  As if he hadn’t spoken, she said, “If you want to join me, that’d be great. But this is the first clear day we’ve had—”

  “It’s not clear.” He started toward her, and she backed up, circling away from the doors. “More clouds are rolling in.”

  Giggling like a schoolgirl, she stayed just out of reach.

  And he continued to stalk her.

  “Then I’d better hurry.” She back-stepped off the patio.

  “Careful.” The land sloped gently down to the lake, and the wet grass could be treacherous to slippery feet.

  She held up a hand, palm out, still giddy and teasing. “I want to swim, Jackson.”

  “We’ll swim after.”

  “You said it yourself, the sunshine might not last.”

  “If you really wanted to swim,” he told her, keeping her in his sights as she took another step back, “then you shouldn’t have put on that boner-inspiring getup.”

  He finally got close enough, and Alani stunned him by cupping her hand over him, kneading him, stroking a little. His eyes closed, his breath quickened.

  “How about,” she teased, “we count the swimming as foreplay?”

  “I won’t last.”

  “We had sex this morning.”

  “So?” He caught her wrist and held her hand in place while he stripped the towel away from her. Man, she was a feast for the eyes. Staring at her belly, he muttered, “Around you, I stay hard and ready.”

  “I noticed, and I’m flattered.”

  Flattered? His gaze shot back to hers. “What the fuck does that mean?” Flattered. He snorted. She should be a damn sight more than flattered. “What do you think? That all guys are sexual machines? ’Cuz I can tell you, they aren’t.”

  “Sexual machine…yes, that describes you.” She snickered, but quickly sobered. “Do you know you always get fractious when you’re aroused?”

  His brows shot up. Fractious? Is that what she thought? More like he was desperate, lost, frantic with need.

  “One insult after another.” He burned for her, and every day just seemed worse than the day before. And yet, she wanted to swim. “I ought to hold out on you.”

  The smile played over her mouth. “Maybe you should.” And then, playfully pleading, “At least until after I’ve had a swim?”

  Jackson measured her mood and slowly nodded. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We’ll swim—but you lose the suit.”

  “Lose…” She blinked fast. “But I thought you liked it.”

  Watching her, keeping her gaze locked in his, he slipped a hand inside her bra top, over her breast, rasping her nipple with his palm. “Yeah. I do. It’s a turn-on.”

  Her lips parted, and her eyes grew heavy.

  “But you naked is better. Always.”

  Undecided, she turned to look down at the lake.

  “No one will see you. There’s a reason I chose to build here. The cove is private. But even if someone did come by, you’ll be in the water. Hidden.” He teased his thumb over her. “To everyone but me.”

  Filled with resolve, her gaze came back to his. “Fine.”

  Oh, man. He started to growl out a few alternate suggestions to swimming, but she didn’t give him a chance.

  “You have to be naked, too.”

  “Not a problem.” He grinned at her. “I don’t even own trunks.”

  “You don’t…” Nettled, she slipped away from him. “For heaven’s sake, Jackson. So you always swim naked with women?”

  “Keep up, will you?” He took her arm and started them both down the hill. “I haven’t brought any other women here.” And to make sure she got the significance of that, he tacked on, “Just you.”

  Bees flitted across the clover in front of them, and Jackson steered her around to a path of sorts. Eventually he’d put in a stone walkway, but it wasn’t high on his list of priorities.

  “So.” Alani stepped with him onto the dock, then curled her toes on the sun-warmed boards. “I know I’m here because of a threat.”

  “There’s that.” Mindful of a full erection, he unzipped his jeans.

  “What if another woman was threatened?”

  “I’d do what I could.” He pushed down his jeans and stepped free of them. Naked, the sun hot on his back, he stood before her. “But I wouldn’t bring her here.”

  Her attention darted from his body, to the entrance of the cove and back again. Making him more than a little nuts, she licked her bottom lip—and focused on his dick.

  Man, oh man. “Dangerous territory, babe, if you know what I mean.”

  She shook her head. “You’re incredible.”

  He choked back a laugh. “With you staring, I’m sure to get more incredible by the second.” Jackson turned her. His fingers on the band holding her braid, he said as casually as he could, “This is my home, honey. My getaway.” The band slid free of her silky hair, and he smoothed it, running his fingers through the ripples left behind, before pushing it over her shoulder.

  He trailed his knuckles down her spine.

  “Your brother and Dare have been here. Their women are welcome.”

  “You are such a caveman,” she muttered, but goose-flesh rose in the wake of his touch. “They’re wives.”

  “And women.” He knew better than Alani just how possessive a man in love could be. Blocking that disturbing thought, he caught her hips. “Point is, I would never bring my work here. That’d defeat the purpose of having a private place.”

  Did she understand that, for him, she was more than work? More than sex. More than…he didn’t know.

  More than anything he’d had before, or ever expected to have.

  Drawing her back against him, he kissed the side of her throat, opened his mouth over the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck.

  Tipping her head to the side, she whispered, “I feel on display.”

  “Yeah.” He found the back tie to her top and lightly tugged it apart. The cups over her breasts loosened enough for him to get his hands underneath. “If I could, I’d lay you out right here on the dock.”

  Breathless, she whispered, “I couldn’t,” almost like she were considering it.

  He played with her nipples, making her—and himself—nuts. “We’ll see.” In a rush, taking her by surprise, he opened the tie around her neck, and the top fell to the dock.

  Going to one knee behind her, Jackson tugged down her bottoms.

  Her knees locked, and on a gasp, she covered herself with a hand. Putting his hand over hers, he pressed her fingers in, turned on by the idea of her touching herself.

  He kissed her lower spine, down, over one cheek—and she jumped away. Staring at him wide-eyed, she opened her mouth, said nothing, then turned and in two quick steps reached the end of the dock. She dove in.

  Left sitting there holding air, it took Jackson a second before he grinned and stood to follow her. Just as she’d done, he dove in, dousing his lust in the chilly water.

  He surfaced right in front of her. Water spiked her lashes; her slicked-back hair looked darker, her cheekbones more pronounced, her lips moist.

  They tread water together. “You do realize that the cold has a negative effect on men.”

  “Really?” O
ne hand on his shoulder to help keep her afloat, she held his gaze, and with the other hand under the water, she found him, wrapping her small fingers around his shaft, squeezing. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ve created a monster.” Being a strong swimmer, Jackson easily moved them both to the ladder. He held on with one hand, and she held on to him with both. “You wanna try some water play, is that it?”

  “Yes.” And then, “Is it possible?”

  He didn’t have a condom with him, but that didn’t mean she had to wait. “I’ll show you.” While kissing her, he coasted a hand over her waist, down over her hip, back and over her rounded ass. “Open up for me, Alani. Put your legs around me.”

  Buoyed by the water, she did so easily, and damn, it felt good, the contrast of her heat with the cold water.

  From behind he explored her, making her gasp so that she arched closer—but couldn’t retreat from his touch. He opened her, pressed a finger in. Two fingers.

  He was ravaging her mouth, pressing her back into the ladder, working her with his fingers when he heard the intrusion.

  Already knowing what had happened, he lifted his head, muttered, “Damn it,” and tried to figure out how best to handle the situation.

  “Jackson?”

  He groaned, his face against Alani’s neck. An interruption was not welcome.

  Still mired in need, Alani whispered, “What is it?” Writhing against him, she touched her lips to his jaw, his ear.

  He felt her tighten around his fingers and said, “Sorry, darlin’.”

  “For what? What’s wrong?”

  No easy way to tell her. “Your brother is here.”

  “My brother…what?” Frantic, splashing, she tried to look around, but Jackson had her pretty much pinned in place. “Where?”

  And then, from somewhere midway down the hill between the house and dock, Trace called out, “Jackson?”

  “Ohmigod.” Face coloring hotly, eyes flared, Alani froze. “Not again.”

  “He has the rottenest damn timing.” Jackson shifted his fingers inside her, and she went berserk.

  “Off!” She shoved at him, splashing more, nearly making him lose hold of the ladder. “Get off of me. Now. Hurry.”

  “Shh.” He couldn’t help but groan as he eased his fingers away from her. “Calm down. I’ll handle it.”