“To be fucking continued,” he said as our lips parted in the middle of a kiss.
“To be fucking continued,” I whispered.
It seemed my words had done something to him because once again, and with full passion, he lifted me off his dwindled erection and set my bare ass on the leather. The bottom part of my thighs was against his lap, and one of my legs was straddling him while the other foot was on the floor. Jasper’s hooded gaze connected with mine as his fingers slid in and out of my soaking pussy and his thumb put pressure on my clit.
“Holy shit,” I whispered and moaned as a new orgasm was racing toward explosion.
“You’re so sexy, baby.”
My pussy lifted toward his thumb. He kept saying how pretty I was and how lucky he was that I was his.
“You’re mine,” he kept repeating as if the orgasm building inside me would solidify that fact.
“I’m yours,” I said breathlessly, although it had nothing to do with my crying out as the burst of pleasure ignited in my pussy.
I was Jasper’s because, without a doubt, I believed him when he claimed me as his.
We spent a few minutes cleaning up with the tissues from his glove compartment and my purse. After our clothes were back in place, we sat limply, taking a breather, retuning our brains to where they’d been before we decided to take a sex break.
Jasper sighed tiredly. “Damn it, babe. It’s difficult for me to not want you all the time.”
“Likewise,” I said, amazed by that fact. The presence of Jasper in my life had increased my libido tenfold. At one point, I’d thought something was wrong with me down there. But I now knew everything was A-OK.
He took my hand and began playing with my fingers. “I have a contact with the FBI.”
I smirked. “I’m not surprised.”
He watched my expression as if it were the best part of the sunset. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he cleared his throat. “Also, I wanted to let you know that my assistant, Raquel, was an FBI agent. But she was planted in our company for a reason that had nothing to do with sexual misconduct claims against executives.”
I grunted, not surprised about that either. “I take it Raquel wasn’t her real name.”
“I don’t believe it was,” he said.
Our fingers were still playing with each other, which made me feel even closer to him. “Can you tell me what she was initially investigating?”
Jasper pressed his lips together. “They never said what, only that they came up empty-handed. But she stayed because of the gross sexual misconduct, which wasn’t a federal offense, but she had collected enough data to turn over to the authorities.”
“Humph. Then there will be an investigation?” I asked, feeling optimistic.
Jasper pressed his lips together again and released them. “They no longer have witnesses who are willing to come forward.”
I sighed forcefully. “Shit. What happened?”
“Valentine.”
“Did he pay them off?”
“I’m guessing that’s one of the methods he employed. I’m sure there are others.”
“But he sure got results quickly.”
Jasper glanced at me with his eyebrows raised. “That’s very astute of you to recognize there was an issue with the timing. We were compromised.”
I loved it when he paid me those little compliments. Yes, they were small, but they were starting to mean so much. “Do you know who compromised us?”
He frowned as if he had just taken a shot of vinegar. “I have my suspicions, but for now, I’d rather not say. Are you okay with that?”
There was openness in his expression that made me want to grab him, hold him tight, and never let go. Here was a man who was used to telling everybody what to do and how, and he was asking if I was okay with not receiving an answer to a question I’d asked.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Only then did I realize I was smiling at him. “Thanks. And yes, it’s okay if you keep your suspicion to yourself.”
He kissed me tenderly. What normally happened when our lips connected in such a way did happen; my mind spun and rose past the tempestuous sky.
“I have another question,” I said breathlessly.
“What is it?” he whispered.
Our faces were still close. I loved being this intimate with him.
“So Valentine is still interested in keeping your name squeaky-clean so that you can be the next president of the United States?”
The thought reminded me of how far Jasper and I were from being a couple who could live their love in the sunlight of the real world instead of the shadows of secrecy.
Jasper calmly kissed the back of my hand. “It wasn’t my name we were going to destroy.”
I looked at him with my mouth open, waiting for him to say more.
“Julia was going to take the fall,” he said. “She was going to admit that she knew what was going on while working as communications director, before her promotion to vice president.”
I wiggled my head. “Wait. She worked for your company before you made her vice president of communications?” How could I have not known that?
“Yes, Holly. And Julia was prepared to say on television that our fathers ordered her to cover it all up and she obliged.”
I could hardly believe Julia was willing to fall on her sword. But then I recalled how miserable she looked whenever I saw her, as though the mere act of breathing tormented her.
I was struck by a thought. “So you were planning on making Julia an inappropriate first lady.”
“It was our plan, not just mine. I didn’t have to destroy Julia to annihilate her father.”
Every time he spoke of destroying Arthur Valentine, it made me nervous. First of all, I wondered if Jasper ultimately planned on murdering the man.
“Annihilate her father?” I asked in an attempt to get him to reveal something about what sort of harm he meant to cause his nemesis.
“Yes. I will drain the life out of him and render him powerless.”
My mouth fell open. Holy shit. He told me exactly what I didn’t want to know. “Then you’re going to kill him.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a murderer, Holly?” He sounded offended that I would think such a thing.
“Well, that’s what happens when you drain the life from someone,” I said.
“Again, my love, I ask that you not push for answers. You’ll hear about what I’m doing to Valentine in due time.”
I jerked my head slightly, turning to the side, and searched Jasper’s eyes for any indication that a killer lived inside of him. I saw no sign of that. After a moment, I nodded.
“Thank you.” He smirked and winked at me. “Now, let’s get the hell out of here before we’re snowbound in Jersey.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my place in the city.”
I breathed in sharply. “In Manhattan?”
“Yes.”
Valentine’s warning for me to stay away from Jasper came howling back into my memory. I touched his shoulder. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
He caressed the side of my face. “Don’t be afraid, babe. I said I’m handling Valentine. At the moment, he’s too busy trying to break his fall to worry about us.”
I frowned, wondering what he meant by that. “What about Julia? Where’s she?”
Jasper opened his door. “Exactly where she’s supposed to be.”
Jasper got out of the back seat so fast that I couldn’t ask where that place might be. But then again, I wasn’t sure he would tell me, anyway.
Chapter Five
I thought Jasper was going to attempt to navigate the horrendous traffic that came with snow-covered roads, but a break in the conditions allowed the helicopter pilot to see his way through the sky with better visibility. I couldn’t look away from Jasper to admire how the mist snaked through the skyscrapers below. He was on a call with his co
ntact at the FBI and was taking the blame for submitting the DNA specimens to the lab in LA. Whomever he was speaking to was doing most of the talking. My headset was playing “These Foolish Things” by Billie Holiday. It had been so long since I’d heard that song, which felt beautifully appropriate for the moment. Every time I tried to deny it, I couldn’t: I was in love with Jasper Christmas. Even if our relationship ended badly, I was content with knowing that the love we had made, the conversations we’d had, and just being near to him were the best things I’d ever experienced.
I watched his mouth move, reading his lips the best I could. I made out “family” and “missing.” He also might have said, “grandparents.” Still on the phone, he broke our eye contact to rub a hand over his face. Jasper did that whenever he felt distressed. Then we were looking at each other again. He said a few more words and ended the call.
The helicopter flew closer to the earth and stopped in midair. I gave Jasper a final smile before looking out the window to see how the aircraft slowly made its way down to the helipad on the top of a towering building. Once we were in position, the pilot got out and opened the door on my side. As he had done while boarding, he instructed me to keep my head down as Jasper and I held hands, racing toward an open door in the building.
The difference from outside to inside was jarring. The cold air threatened to freeze my face off. Not only was I missing my gloves, but I had also forgotten my scarf and earmuffs before leaving that morning. This was usually the time of year when I started planning a long two-week vacation to at least three tropical-island destinations. But nothing in my life was how it used to be—I was holding hands with this beautiful man.
Two burly men in suits held the doors open as we walked past them into a carpeted hallway, which had gorgeous photos of New York City on the walls. The fact that Jasper’s security was pretty tight wasn’t lost on me. He’d often warned me that these were dangerous times. Even though I felt all of his worries in the tightness of his grip, I knew right then that I was in the safest place possible, which was by his side. But I couldn’t wait to hear what his FBI contact had to say about Amelia Christmas’s kidnapping. I also wanted to know if Jasper had heard anything about Bryn’s whereabouts. Then there was this fairy tale I felt as if I was living in. It was dangerous but safe, dark but light, and happy but sad. My existence was saturated with so many binaries that I still didn’t know whether I was coming or going.
Even that exact moment felt surreal as I watched Jasper use his thumbprint to open the elevator doors. He guided me inside it. Before I could ask about Amelia Christmas, he pressed my back against the mirror-glass wall. My arms were above my head, his hands around my wrists. I was in complete surrender as our mouths merged. And just like that, all the things I’d been thinking about faded from my mind, and all I wanted was more of what was happening right then and there.
“Finally, I have you to myself—all to my fucking self.” His words came out hot and heavy on my lips.
His mouth struggled to break contact with mine, but finally, he pushed the button. It was only then that I realized we hadn’t moved up or down since entering the elevator.
We were kissing again—feverishly, greedily, as if we had only one more time to do it and then never again. One of those binaries came into play again: this felt so wrong yet so right. The elevator ride was short, only one floor up. The door slid open. Jasper ended our kiss. The lightheadedness was leaving me as I observed the gray light from the dank day filling the space. This was nothing like the Christmas mansion. This was the quintessential bachelor pad. The place was very modern, and everything inside it—including a window showing the New York skyline—stood out. The furniture was comprised of comfy black-leather sofas and couches with silver armrests and legs. A large black, white, and silver coffee table was the central point for all the furniture. There were matching long silver tables with decorative pieces made of metal, crystal, ivory, and obsidian. The furniture sat on a humongous area rug that contained a design of a black-and-white photo of the back of a young woman in a sundress, her hair blowing in the wind as she stood at the edge of the shoreline, looking toward a lighthouse on top of a rock cliff. I couldn’t look away from the graphic. I felt as if I’d seen the landscape before.
“Was that shot taken at the Christmas mansion?” I asked, pointing at the rug.
“Yes.” Jasper’s voice came from behind me, and I became aware that I’d walked deeper into his space, compelled to drink it in. After all, I had just been given access to another side of Jasper Christmas I never knew existed.
There were lots of black-and-white landscapes on the wall, blown up to about seventy-eight by forty-two inches—poster-sized, stylishly framed photos. There was one with Jasper, Spencer, and Asher, their shirtless arms around each other’s necks, smiling as if they were the epitome of happiness and brotherhood. They were boys, really, on their way to becoming men. Their smiles made me smile. There was another one of Bryn with a hand covering one side of her face as she played coy for the camera. She had to have been fifteen or sixteen years old. It was a side of her I’d never seen before or could have imagined existed.
“Who took these?” I asked, standing in front of the one of Bryn.
Jasper was now standing beside me. “Amelia.”
I snapped my attention to Jasper then studied the rest of the photos, but this time, I looked at them differently, as though I was looking through the window to Amelia Christmas’s soul while remembering she had been kidnapped. One photo was of two little boys in sailor suits, running on the grass and holding up toy airplanes, the bay in the distance. Another was of Jasper standing at the window but turning to look over his shoulder while smiling at the camera. I could see the affection he had for whomever was taking the picture.
Then I was struck by a very heartbreaking thought. “How are you dealing with the possibility that your mother may have been abducted?”
Jasper studied me for a moment. “My mother wasn’t a prisoner in our home.” His frown intensified. “Why didn’t she leave when she had a chance?”
It felt heartless to voice a few of the possibilities that ran through my mind, so I nodded gently. His and Amelia’s lives could have been threatened, or even worse, Randolph could have made her leave Jasper with him if she’d chosen to go home to her family.
Finally, Jasper took a deep breath through his nostrils, which made him pull his shoulders back and stand up straight. “I didn’t know this film existed until after my mother died. I used to see her with her camera every now and then, snapping photos here and there, but she never had the film developed.”
I respected the sort of silence that lingered between us. Jasper was not finished speaking. He was merely collecting his thoughts.
“She didn’t take one photo where my brothers and sister and I weren’t happy. I’d forgotten every single moment and still can only sparsely remember them.”
I wanted to say something that would ease the melancholy. However, his candidness had brought up memories that put us in similar shoes. When I thought of my life as a child, I could only remember being miserable, hungry, and cold and asking God why he’d given me to the worst parents on the face of the earth.
“I want my mother’s soul to rest in peace, Holly. That’s how I feel.”
I nodded. “I understand. You must’ve loved her an awful lot.”
He looked down at me. “I did.”
“How did you find those pictures?”
He narrowed an eye. “Are you asking as a journalist or as my girlfriend?”
I grinned flirtatiously. “Am I your girlfriend?”
He smirked. “At least for now.”
I jerked my head back. “Are you planning on breaking up with me already?”
He stroked my neck, his eyes smoldering. “Babe, I don’t ever plan on breaking up with you.”
My heart skipped a beat. Jasper Christmas was claiming me. No one had ever done that before—not even those two scoundrels who co
nceived me. They’d tolerated me because I was there, but neither had really wanted me around. But Jasper did want me. He was sharing himself with me. He was giving me space inside him, which was a warm, cozy, and safe place.
“Thank you,” I barely said through my tight throat.
He just stared into my eyes. I could see the fires of lust brewing inside him. “I want to make love to you again, but we both know it wouldn’t be the best use of our time right now.”
I grinned. Truly, that is such a Jasperish thing to say. “No, it wouldn’t.” Then a thought rushed into my head. “Everyone knows you are the powerhouse behind Christmas Industries and were even before your mother died. You could’ve destroyed Randolph with your pinkie finger if you wanted. So have you wondered why your mother never told you she’d been kidnapped?”
He sighed forcefully. “Yes, but let’s take it one question at a time, babe. You first asked where I found my mother’s film. She left me a box with a lot of things inside it.”
I grunted curiously. “What sort of things?”
Jasper shrugged dismissively. “I don’t know. I didn’t spend much time looking. There were just knickknacks and shit.”
My lips parted. I was pretty surprised by his response. He was someone who made it a point to know the details in depth, yet he was so blasé about the items his mother had left for him in a box.
“Where’s the box now?” I asked.
He turned his head slightly. “Why do you ask?”
“Maybe we should see what’s in there together. I mean, I get that it was emotional for you…”
“It wasn’t fucking emotional for me,” he said as if I had insulted him.
“But it was, Jasper. Even if you don’t see it.”
His frown intensified.
I stroked the side of his face gently. “I’ve known you nearly a month.” I smiled because it was a ridiculously short span of time to have fallen in love so deeply or to even be emboldened enough to claim what I was about to say. But I was a great judge of personality and character. It never took long for me to figure out an individual, and I was certain I had Jasper Christmas’s number.
Claimed: The Dark Christmases Trilogy Page 4