by Ivy Layne
Coming to a halt in the foyer, I searched his face for any sign that the caller had been telling the truth. He didn't make me wait. "She's fine," he said. "Your mother's condition is unchanged. The call earlier was a fake. I'm sorry I didn't let you know right away, but it got a little crazy when Griffen went to check on her."
"But she's all right?" I asked. Jacob stopped in front of me, looking down to meet my eyes. I couldn't read the expression on his face. His silver eyes were soft. A smile played over his lips. He cupped my chin in his hands and lowered his head. What was he doing? Was he going to kiss me? As crazy as it might sound, Jacob had never kissed me. He'd touched every inch of my skin. We'd had our mouths all over each other, but we'd never kissed. Kissing was for lovers.
I held my breath as his lips grazed mine, so gentle I wondered if I'd imagined it, before they were back, pressing harder this time. He tasted like mint and some undefinable flavor I knew was simply Jacob, and when his tongue slid across my lower lip, I opened my mouth to him, helpless to resist. I let out a gasp as his hands dropped from my face to grip my hips, dragging me closer.
The thick cock I knew so well pressed into my belly through his suit and my thin robe. Arms tightening around me, he pulled me flush to him, my breasts pillowed against his chest, my head tilting back as his mouth took me, the kiss flaring from sweet to hungry in a heartbeat.
The brush of his tongue against mine, the taste of him, made my head spin. He kissed me with his whole body, turning me to pin me to the wall of the foyer, to cage me with his body while he claimed my mouth. My head spun. I thought I'd gotten used to Jacob's passion. This is something else, something new. This wasn't sex or lust. I raised my hands to his shoulders and held on for dear life, my lips moving under his, matching his need and his hunger. He'd never kissed me before, and I didn't know if he'd ever kiss me again. I wanted this.
The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun. Jacob loosened his arms and stepped back, prying his lips from mine between one breath and the next. His mouth beside my ear, he said, "I'm going to go change before I tell you the rest. I'll be right back."
Then he was gone. I watched him disappear down the hall, still staring after him once he was out of sight, my knees shaking. Between the treadmill and that kiss, I didn't think I could walk. I guess I didn't have to worry about Jacob being mad. No, now I had something new to worry about.
Why had he kissed me? I hadn't known how much I'd wanted it until I felt his lips on mine. That kiss had been less controlled, more Jacob, than anything he'd done with me. I wanted that from him, but now that I'd had a taste, I wasn't sure I could bear it when he took it away.
Reminding myself, yet again, that we did not have a relationship and I could not, under any circumstances, fall for him, I peeled myself off the foyer wall and went to the kitchen to pour Jacob a glass of wine.
Deciding it was safer not to mention the kiss, I handed Jacob his wine when he got to the kitchen and asked, "So, what happened?" I tried to ignore how appealing he looked in a pair of cut off sweatpants and a T-shirt with the logo of Syndrome from WGC, his family's gaming company. My head was still spinning, and I could taste him on my tongue.
It was too much. Being kissed senseless by devastatingly handsome, suited Jacob was bad enough. I might never recover from that. I couldn't transition into drinking wine with casually magnetic down-time Jacob. I was too flustered to think. Before he could start talking, I said, "Do you want dinner? Are you hungry?" I needed something to do.
Sending me an unreadable grin, he said, "I could eat."
Jacob was being odd. I ignored my uneasiness in favor of finding out what had happened. Taking pity on me, Jacob said, "Griffen went to check on your mom to make sure she was all right, but also to see if anything was out of the ordinary there. Cooper put men on him to see if anyone was watching the facility or watching Griffen."
"And?" I asked, taking the chicken, vegetables, and sauce I'd prepared from the refrigerator so they could come to room temperature while I warmed up the wok. For a man who didn't cook, Jacob had a lot of equipment in his kitchen. Even a rice maker, which looked like it had never been used before tonight. There was a lot about my current circumstances that made me uncomfortable, but I loved this kitchen.
"Firstly," Jacob went on, "Griffen confirmed the call was a fake. They don't have that number on file, they know who Rachel Porter is, and they know to call my office line or my mobile if there's any trouble. They did not call anyone today because your mother is fine."
Relief speared through me. I was delaying the inevitable, but every day I didn't have to face losing my mother was a good one, no matter what else might happen. Embarrassed that I'd been taken in so easily, I said, "I'm sorry I—"
Jacob cut me off. "Don't be sorry," he said gently. His voice was kind, almost tender. I couldn't help looking at him in confusion. Jacob could be a lot of things—bossy and commanding, mind-spinningly and panty-meltingly sexy, even dismissive and short-tempered. Gentle, kind, and tender were all new. I wasn't sure I was equipped to handle this Jacob. This Jacob—casual, sweet Jacob—was way too close to dream-boyfriend Jacob for comfort.
Proving my point, he said, "You have one weak spot, Abigail. One. You don't seem to care at all about your own self-preservation, but anyone who knows you is aware that you'll sacrifice anything for your mother. It's how the Jordans trapped you in the first place. It's the only reason you're here." He looked away from me when he said that, his silver eyes shifting to pewter.
"It's not," I started to say, then stopped. It was the reason I was there. We both knew it. If it hadn't been for my mother, I never would have consented to an arrangement like this. I was attracted to Jacob, even more so now that I knew what sex with him was like, but if it weren't for my mother, I would have demanded more from him than this. I fell silent, willing him to continue his explanation, to get us past this incredibly awkward moment.
"Sweetheart," he said softly. And what was with calling me sweetheart? He called me Abigail, sometimes Miss Jordan—never Mrs. Jordan—but sweetheart was new. It sent a giddy flutter through my heart even as my head rejected it as a line or a meaningless endearment. I was not Jacob's sweetheart. Jacob didn't have sweethearts. "You answered the phone because you were scared and you didn't think. You know it was dangerous, which is why you told them you were Rachel. That was quick thinking, by the way. They may think it was you who answered the phone, but they don't know."
"It was still foolish," I admitted. Jacob shrugged.
"Everyone does foolish things. Don't be so hard on yourself."
"You have someone going to visit my mom for me?" I'd been wanting to ask him about that since he mentioned it on the phone. Yep, sweet Jacob was going to kill me. He shrugged again.
"It seemed like a good idea. I wanted someone who was used to the facility, and who they were used to visiting your mother. I also wanted first-hand reports—not from the staff—about your mother's condition and quality of care. Both of which are excellent, by the way, all things considered. I would have expected it, given what the place costs, but Griffen says they're taking very good care of her and the staff is top-notch."
"I know," I said. "They're the best. That's why my father put her there, and every place else I looked at after he died—" I shook my head. "I just couldn't bring myself to take her out."
"You played it off on the phone," Jacob said. "But they were definitely hoping you'd take the bait, because Cooper's guys clocked at least three of Big John's men waiting around the facility to grab you if you showed up. They noticed Griffen, but they didn't make a move on him. We're not sure if they know who he is and why he was there."
"Big John is losing patience, isn't he?" I asked, dumping vegetables into the sizzling wok, avoiding Jacob's eyes. He came up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head. My heart squeezed in my chest at his casual tenderness. We'd done plenty of touching, but he'd never held me like this. I couldn't remember the la
st time anyone had held me like this. Tears gathered in my eyes. Horrified, I blinked them back.
Unaware of my internal struggle with his easy affection, Jacob said, "He's been searching for you since you disappeared. I've had Cooper and his team watching him. He was looking for you from the beginning, but now, his negotiations with the Raptors have stalled and he needs you to get them back online. He wasn't desperate before, but he's getting there."
"I'm part of the deal?" I asked, sick to my stomach at the memory of what Big John had said they would do to me.
"There's more to it than just you," Jacob said. "They can't agree on distribution. They can't agree on their cut—"
"Their cut of what?" I interrupted. I was so clueless. Jacob gave me a squeeze. More affection. I was clueless in so many ways.
"Sales from heroin, mostly, and guns. Big John deals in more than that, but that's what he wants the Raptors for."
"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. I couldn't believe John had been involved in this part of his father's business, though I knew he probably had. But my John, the man I had married, had been soft. Soft body, affable personality, there was nothing about him that would suggest he had the capacity to make deals with biker gangs or sell drugs and weapons. Without realizing I was going to speak, I said, "The police told me John was the victim of a mugging. He was shot. But it wasn't a mugging, was it?"
Jacob's arms tightened around me. "No," he said. "I don't think it was."
"Do you know who killed him?" I asked, my voice small. I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I had to. Jacob gave me another squeeze. I turned off the wok and waited for his answer.
"I don't know, not definitely. From what Cooper has turned up, it looks like it was an inside job."
I stepped away from Jacob and went to get the plates for dinner, every muscle in my body stiff with shock and denial. An inside job? John had been killed by one of his own? I took the plates down from the shelves, my movements jerky, the china clattering as I tried to set it on the counter. Jacob edged me aside with a gentle nudge.
"I'll do this," he said, piling steaming rice on each plate before covering it with veggies and chicken in a sweet and savory sesame teriyaki sauce. The scent of the food turned my stomach. An inside job? That possibility had occurred to me before, but I'd buried it. I'd still been living in our house, surrounded by the Jordan clan. I couldn't afford to suspect them of something so awful. But what Jacob said made a sickening kind of sense. John had never fit in with the rest of them. It wasn't his fault. His father had set him aside from the beginning, seeing John as a way for the family to carve out a presence in the legitimate world of business.
John had done as he was told—gone to all the right schools, where he made the right friendships. He'd gotten his business degree. He'd golfed, joined the country club, gotten tips on investments, and increased the Jordan family connections and wealth. He'd even married me. I wasn't Atlanta royalty, but in our small but affluent suburb, I was considered a prize.
I'm not being conceited about it. I was pretty and reasonably smart, but I knew my appeal had far more to do with my parents’ wealth and position in the community than it had to do with me. My father had been a wealthy banker and my mother's family was old Atlanta. I'd been born with a silver spoon in my mouth and an impeccable pedigree, but had my father's failures become public knowledge, my tiara would have tarnished overnight.
Instead, John swooped in to save my mother and marry me. In retrospect, it was the beginning of the end for John. He'd accomplished everything his father had wanted. It had never been enough. I recalled hushed arguments, John telling his father he wouldn't work for him and Big John telling him he was weak. A waste of effort. A regret. Had Big John decided to cut his losses and wipe his hands of his oldest son in the most final way?
"Abigail." Jacob interrupted my thoughts. He stood in front of me, a plate in each hand. "Let's eat. What happened to John was set in motion long before you two got married. You're lucky you got away. When this is over, you'll never have to think of the Jordans again."
That was oversimplifying things, of course. I couldn't just wash the last four years from my mind, couldn't forget John and our marriage, his family. I wished I could. But Jacob was right. I was lucky to have gotten away. I didn't want to give Big John and his threats more of me than he'd already taken. Picking up the bottle of wine and our glasses, I followed Jacob into the dining room.
I had more to worry about than the Jordan family. Like what was going on with Jacob. Why had he changed so much? Hugging me? Kissing me? Calling me sweetheart? He'd gone a whole day without ordering me to strip naked. That couldn't be good.
Maybe it was time for me to make a move. To put things back on even ground. Jacob was intimidating when he was ordering me around, but when he was being sweet, he terrified me. I couldn't afford to fool myself into believing we were in love. I wouldn't survive it, not on top of everything else. It was time to remind us both why I was there.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ABIGAIL
* * *
I don't remember eating dinner. Jacob cleaned his plate, so it must have been edible, but I merely picked at mine, distracted by thoughts of what to do next. Jacob always made the first move. He'd tell me what he wanted, and I'd comply.
I liked it. I'd always bristled at being told what to do, until Jacob. So far, every order he'd given me had ended in mind blowing pleasure. I had no problem following his lead. This time, I wanted to figure out how to take the lead on my own.
"Abigail?" I heard him say. I looked up, startled.
"Sorry," I said. "Just thinking."
"What about?" he asked, his eyes dark with concern. Should I lie? I was still wearing my robe. I'd never gotten dressed after my shower. Testing him, I ran one finger down the shawl collar of the light silk robe, trailing it over my skin to dip into my barely exposed cleavage. I tugged on the slippery fabric, exposing the inner curve of one breast.
Jacob's silver eyes heated, desire chasing away the dark. The look sent a bolt of fire between my legs. Nothing turned me on more these days than Jacob looking at me as if he wanted to devour me.
Encouraged, I hooked my finger in the silk and pulled it back until the robe slipped off my shoulder, leaving me entirely bare on one side.
"What else were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse.
"That's what had me so distracted," I admitted. "I couldn't decide."
I stood slowly, letting the robe drift off my shoulders to puddle in the chair, and strode to him, feeling suddenly like the predator he so often resembled. The unfamiliar sense of power was a rush. My breasts felt swollen, full and tipped with hard nipples that demanded his attention.
Between my legs, I was already slick with need for him. I wanted Jacob. I was going to take all my confusion, all my uncertainty about him and channel it into pleasure. I was going to do what I was here for—use our bodies to make us both feel so good we'd forget everything else.
Coming to a stop in front of him, I stared him down. Lounging in the dining chair, his silver eyes heavy lidded with desire, his dark hair a little messy, a bemused smile on his lips, he looked like a king in his court, waiting to be entertained. Jacob was always in command, even when he let me take charge. The thought sent a shiver through me.
"Well?" he prompted.
"You're wearing too many clothes," I said.
"What are you going to do about it?" he challenged.
What was I going to do? I wished he were still wearing his suit. I'd always wanted to strip him naked, to peel away the armor of his daily life and lay his body bare. Somehow, his t-shirt and cutoffs intimidated me more than his custom-made suits. I knew what to do with that Jacob.
This Jacob kissed me and called me sweetheart. This Jacob was a mystery. Feeling my way, I leaned forward, enjoying the way his eyes flared wide at the shift of my breasts, and slid my hands over his shoulders. I tugged, pulling him to his feet, before I dropped my hands to
the hem of his shirt and peeled it over his head.
I got lost for a moment in the sight of his neck and the beat of his pulse beneath stubbled skin. The scent of him, so warm and close. All that bare chest and those cut abs. I knew now that he woke at five am every day to put in a punishing hour in his gym. I liked the results.
I was taking too long. I wanted him naked. Hooking my fingers in the waist of his loose shorts, I pushed them down, delighted to find he wore nothing beneath. I'd begun stripping him uncertain of my path, but now I knew what I wanted. Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees on the soft carpet of the dining room.
His cock was ready for me, straining and hard. I opened my mouth and licked. Heat and the taste of Jacob. Funny what could change in a few weeks. I'd always thought of oral sex as something a woman put up with. God knows, I'd never had the favor returned before Jacob. The idea of wanting to do this, of needing a cock in my mouth, had been inconceivable. Why? But now I knew. When it was this cock, Jacob's cock, I did want it. I had to have it. I wanted to make him come like this, using only my mouth.
I still couldn't swallow him all the way. I made up for it, running my tongue over his silky skin until he was slick and I'd tasted every inch of the gorgeous cock before I dropped my mouth over his length and took him inside. I'd learned what he liked. With Jacob, I couldn't help myself. I loved the way he responded to my touch.
I was addicted to every hitch in his breath, every clench of his muscles. I sucked him hard, drawing him as deeply into the heat of my mouth as I could, sliding my hand around the base of his cock in a tight grip I knew would make him catch his breath. He didn't disappoint me.
"Abigail," he groaned, sinking his fingers into my hair, holding me where I was. I had him exactly where I wanted him. I hadn't been able to entice him into finishing in my mouth since the first time. I needed that. Teasing him, I sat back, releasing most of him, licking my tongue across the head of his cock to taste the fluid beading there.