by Raven Fyre
From the looks of it, Clint had already sucked down two bottles of beer and was working on draining the third. He tipped a longneck in her direction by way of greeting as she slid onto the cushion facing him. “Want a drink?”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” He waved the now-empty bottle at a passing waitress. The scantily clad woman sent him a wink and made her way back toward the bar to put in his request.
“What do you want?” Chloe saw no reason to drag this out. The sooner he got to the meat of it, the sooner she could be on her way to Jackson.
Clint sneered at her. “Can’t a guy have a goddamn drink with his wife?”
“Are we really going to go through this again?” She blew out an exasperated breath. “You’re just making it worse, embarrassing yourself and me.”
“Tell me about this Sawyer fella. Bet he likes tapping that pretty little ass of yours.” Disgusted, she started to leave, but his words stalled her progress. “Sit down, you high and mighty bitch. I’ll tell you when we’re done.”
The name-calling was akin to a feral cat crawling up her spine. “So, I’m a bitch now? How lovely. You want me to sit here while you throw out your best? Go ahead. The thing is, you can’t hurt me anymore. Not with words. Not with the parade of other women. I. Don’t. Care. Get it? I have a wonderful man who cares about me, about what I want and not—”
“Fuck Sawyer.” Clint’s beefy fist slammed down on the table, making it shake and rock due to an uneven leg. “That pretty boy’s loaded, and I bet he wouldn’t blink if you asked for a couple grand. Especially if you promised to work it out in trade.”
She wished to hell he’d been drinking whatever crappy beer the bar kept on tap just so she could have the satisfaction of tossing it in his face. He couldn’t possibly know how deeply his words cut her when she thought of just exactly how she and Jackson had been trading sex for much-needed funds. But cut her they did. “You make me sick, you know that? What is this fascination you have with touting me as a whore?”
“Just like your momma. Did your Gram ever tell you the truth about that night? No, I didn’t think so.”
Chloe had a sinking feeling, like she’d just swallowed a handful of rocks and Clint was about to toss her into the Gulf.
“She wouldn’t want you to know what a hussy her daughter had become,” Clint went on. “Or what it did to your daddy, making him turn to the bottle.”
She literally felt the color drain from her face, and her tongue refused to move. Chloe closed her eyes the way she wished she could’ve closed her ears, but Clint was obviously enjoying himself. The pitch of his voice rose, and the amusement clung to each and every word.
“Word was, she could’ve put a revolving door on her bedroom. Daddy tried to cover it up after the accident and spare your grandparents the humiliation. Lucky for me, I stumbled over his stash of old files in his office at home, some he’d taken with him when he retired. The official report from that night was a far cry from his personal notes on the scene.”
He took his time, going into great detail over what had transpired, blatantly reveling in her anguish and humiliation.
“Stop it! I don’t want to hear any more. What does it matter now? You want money, right? That’s what this is about. You bilked Gram, but now she’s gone, so instead, you’ll use Rachel as leverage to wheedle more cash out of me. And you think I’ll beg Jackson for the money because I’m as broke as it gets and we happen to be sleeping together.”
“Fucking,” Clint insisted. “I doubt he lets you sleep much.”
“You really are a prick. If it weren’t a slur to your daddy, who I believe to be a good and decent man, I’d call you a bastard.” This time she did wiggle out of the booth. “Go to hell.”
She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she exited the bar. Before she could take two steps, Clint had her by the arm and was dragging her over to his truck. “You listen to me, you sassy bitch. You’ll get me twenty grand from Sawyer if you have to give him head twenty-four-seven.”
“Disgusting prick,” she amended.
Undaunted, Clint gripped her harder. She swore she could feel the bruises forming beneath the skin.
“Twenty grand,” he repeated. “Or I’ll see to it that a copy of Daddy’s notes just happens to sail into Rachel’s hands.”
He let her go. Did he really think she’d cower off and do his bidding? Arrogant, disgusting prick, she mused.
And dumb as dirt. Without another word—let him think whatever he needed to—she made a beeline for her car.
* * * *
Chloe’s car was in the drive when Jackson pulled in. Taking stock, at first glance, nothing seemed out of order. He rang the front doorbell. No answer. Rounding to the side of the house, he flipped the lock on the gate of the wooden privacy fence, and it gave way. Three steps into the backyard, he finally spotted her.
She was sitting in the old wood swing under a large, sprawling oak, immobile as a statue, with her knees raised to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her chin was resting in the groove they created. She seemed to be staring off across the yard as if the world had slipped out of focus around her. Not a flinch, not a flicker of her eyelids showed that it registered when he softly called out to her.
Then he said her name again, a little louder this time.
Finally, she turned her head to look up at him. Emotionless. Her face was a beautiful yet expressionless slate. The oceans of her eyes were blank, empty, fathoms deep. She did blink once, twice, before turning and looking away.
His anger instantly fell away to be replaced by the heavy burden of concern and love. “Chloe? Sweetheart?” He sat beside her in the swing but was careful to keep from touching her. She seemed so fragile, as if even a whisper over her skin might shatter her into millions of pale shards.
“I was so worried. I waited for you at the club. And I tried to call several times. Did I misunderstand, sweetheart?” Best to keep talking, he decided. Sooner or later, perhaps she’d respond. Go to hell. Hold me. Hell if he cared what she said or did or asked of him. Jackson would have tried to rope the moon for her at this point if she’d just damn well say something. Anything.
Finally she let out a heavy sigh. “I went to see Clint.”
The only visible sign of the fury that sprang instantly back to life and zipped through his veins was his clenched fists. It took everything he had not to yell at her or grab her by her shoulders and shake some sense into her. “Now, darlin’, why would you go and do a thing like that?”
Her voice was flat, as emotionless as her face. “Because he threatened me, and he threatened to tell Rachel the awful truth about Momma.”
Okay, so now he was pissed on a whole new level. Jackson felt betrayed. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because she hadn’t trusted him. Didn’t she know that she could have come to him, asked him to go with her to face off with whatever threats her ex was using as leverage to scare her?
He loved her, and yet, clearly, she still hadn’t even decided that she could count on him, share her troubles.
He couldn’t fathom a world without Chloe’s love.
But he’d never truly have her until she took that most important leap of faith and believed in the depths of his love for her. Trust, faith, Devotion, these had to be solidly built, two-way streets, or forever would crumble away beneath their feet.
“What could be so awful as to—”
“It’s ironic really,” she interrupted. Her sardonic laugh didn’t set well in his gut. Its sharp edge plunged and twisted with sickening results. “Seems I’ve followed right along in her footsteps, whoring myself and spreading my legs for a man and his money.”
That did it. Shifting, he took her by the shoulders and shook her—a bit roughly, maybe too rough, but it got her attention, which was his goal. “Damn it, Chloe. I’ve heard that word enough for a lifetime. You did what you felt you needed to do for Rachel, for yourself. If anything, I’m the bastard who took advantag
e of your weakness and manipulated the situation. And I don’t give a damn about any of that. All I care about is you. I love you, Chloe. But I deserve to know how you feel about me.”
“Don’t you see? Oh, Jackson.” Diamond-like teardrops spilled from the corners of her eyes and rolled over her cheeks. “My mother wasn’t with my father the night she died. But my father found out about her affairs. Multiple affairs. Which drove him to the bottle. He was drunk and angry and humiliated, and it seems he followed her that night when she went to meet one of her lovers. He rammed the guy’s truck from behind, and it was raining—that was about the only truth to the story Gram always told.
“The truck slid out of control and hit a telephone pole. Killed the man on impact. Then Daddy ran the old Plymouth right off the causeway and into Mobile Bay, drowning himself. Clint’s father was the chief of police, and in those days, it was even more of a good old boy network than today. Because of Granddaddy’s standing in the community and the scandal that would have hit the fans, Mr. Rezner used his clout to sweep it under the rug and cover his tracks with the story Gram told me all those years ago.”
Jackson was getting the picture all too clearly now. “Clint somehow found out the truth and used it to blackmail your Gram. She needed fast cash, so she sold her pearls. Then she took out the loan because he came back for more. Clint’s a greedy son of a bitch, and he wasn’t content to let it die with her. Naturally, he was banking on exactly how far you’d go to keep the horrible truth from Rachel.”
“And he was banking on you as my new backer, especially after he realized we were intimate and that you owned the clubs.” She swiped at her damp cheeks. “He asked for an obscene amount of money, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I told him to go to hell.”
“Damn straight.”
“Rachel’s not a little girl anymore. I love her, and I want to see her happy and taken care of, but I can’t baby her forever.”
“No, sweetheart, you really can’t,” he agreed.
“I couldn’t let him try to maneuver you like a pawn in his sick, sadistic game just because of your feelings for me.”
“Try being the operative word.”
At that, Chloe laughed a soft, genuine laugh. “If only he had an idea who he was dealing with.”
“Oh, I think we gave him a pretty good taste last night. Calling the cops. Slapping a restraining order on his ass. Jesus, Chloe, I could toss you over my knee for going to see him after that.”
“What the hell was I supposed to do, Jackson? I had to talk to him after the text he sent. I had to know what it was he was holding over my head before I could figure out how to deal with it.”
He couldn’t help it. His words exploded out. “Did it ever occur to you that I would have gone with you? What if he’d lured you there just to hurt you? Do you realize what I would have to do to him if he’d harmed one single hair on your gorgeous head? Damn it, Chloe.”
“My white knight,” she said in awe, cupping his face in her hands.
Jackson chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am. Though I never thought of it that way. But I would try to protect you to the death.”
“Rachel said that the day you showed up determined to drive me to Gram’s funeral. That gleam of protectiveness in your eyes. I don’t think I wanted to see it for what it was. I was too afraid to really believe it. To believe that you…that anyone might love me that much.”
He pulled her over so that she had no choice but to straddle his lap. “But I do. I will. Forever.”
Chloe rested her forehead on his and whispered, “I’m so scared, Jackson. I’ve never felt so afraid and so happy and so…alive, all at once.” Raining soft, light kisses over his lids, his temple, his cheeks, she worked her way to capturing his lips with hers.
He felt as if she were trying to pour her heart and soul into the kiss, as if that might be enough. But it wasn’t. He needed to hear it from those same sweet lips that were devouring his. “I love you, baby.”
“Oh, Jackson. I love you so much more than I ever thought possible.” Leaning back, she looked deep into his eyes and echoed the words that made his world complete. “But I do. I will. Forever.”
“Hallelujah, woman! Took you damn long enough to admit it, and I’m gonna enjoy spending the rest of our lives reminding you just who said it first.”
“I don’t doubt that you will,” she said on a laugh and then threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “Oh, Jackson. I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you.”
“We deserve each other. We were made for each other.”
“Make love to me,” she pleaded, running her tongue along the curve of his ear. “Light of day, let me see you.”
Jackson swept her up and carried her into the house, stopping only when they were locked away behind her bedroom door. He set her on the mattress and inched back to shed his clothes while she watched.
His fucking hand trembled—trembled!—working the buttons of his shirt. This was like first-time-ever, losing-his-virginity sex, the way his hormones were raging and his body was shaking to discover the hidden treasures of a woman’s body.
No, not just any woman. His woman.
What they’d done at the club had no bearing on this moment. He’d cheated her, and, ultimately, cheated them both. Rewriting the past was out of his hands. He could only control the forward momentum and hope for a better future.
“Chloe, baby, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me for the whole stupid charade at the club?”
“That whole stupid charade was for my benefit. And look what it got me.” She reached out, flicked open the front of his jeans, and drew down his zipper. “Show me how much you love me, Jackson. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”
Their mouths instantly fused, tongues mating, devouring as they rolled over the mattress, tearing away clothes and exposing flesh until she lay beneath him, cradling his hips with those smooth, silky thighs. The pert tips of her pink nipples were too tempting to ignore, and he took time to lave them each, sucking one then the other and nuzzling his nose in the creamy, honeysuckle-scented valley of skin between the lush mounds.
“You always smell good enough to eat.” As if to prove it, he nipped at the column of her throat then licked the spot, making her gasp.
Chloe raked her nails over his abs and rubbed her slick mound against the tip of his burgeoning cock, spreading her hot moisture and beckoning him in. “Please, Jackson. I need you…God, how I need you.”
“Let me get a condom from the drawer.”
“No. Don’t.” He knew she was on the Pill—backup required for her stint at the club. But even during the night, he’d been sure to suit up. In fact, he’d never, ever taken the chance and gone bare during sex—that one brief, ball-busting instance aside, when he’d almost given in at the club.
Yet this was Chloe.
Sooner or later—sooner if he had his way—she would be his in every way possible, and the proof of their love would be swelling in her belly. Once he got a ring on her finger and got her down the aisle and once she had her degree—whatever she wanted—he’d get busy working on what he wanted, starting a family. Their family.
“Please,” she murmured. “Let me feel you.”
He laced his fingers through hers, and their eyes locked, never wavering as he pressed the tip of his cock to her weeping, welcoming pussy and sank deep, claiming her. Every sweet, glorious inch of her. Being skin-to-skin with the woman he loved and who loved him in return was amazingly, almost painfully arousing. Gathering every ounce of control he possessed, he measured his thrusts and strained to hold off his climax until she shattered around him. He let go of one of her hands and reached between them to where their bodies were joined and lightly pinched her clit.
“Yes!” She cried out, and her head fell back as her body bowed beneath his. “Oh, God, Jackson!”
The strength of her inner muscles convulsing around his cock as she climaxed was swiftly pulling him closer to the edge of his own r
elease. “You feel so good. That sweet, hot pussy. Jesus, Chloe, baby. The way it’s milking my cock. I can’t…hold on…much longer.”
His balls drew tight, and fire shot straight down his spine to spread in his loins. His cock felt like it was about to explode.
Finally letting go, he pushed her knees to her chest and pounded into her, gritting his teeth and growling as he came. God, he’d never come so hard or so much in his life. Damn, he’d never dreamed it would feel this good, this right, to come inside her.
Her honey, his seed—the erotic mixture coated his cock, filled her pussy. He felt it overflow, binding them in a sticky, hot web of passion. He thought of it as marking her, branding some part of his essence within the most precious, deepest part of her. That part that held the power to create new life. A new life that would be nurtured by their love.
Soothing her with murmured words of love as she clung to him and wept, Jackson was awe-struck to realize she’d experienced that same intrinsic, binding connection.
“Every time,” she told him, “when you’re inside me…I’ve never felt so complete, so perfectly, wonderfully whole with anyone else.”
He kissed the tears from her silky skin, kissed her lips, tenderly, and rolled to his back, pulling her in to nestle at his side. “Sweetheart, neither have I.” Covering her hand where it lay on his chest, he asked, “About children? When you said you’d had trouble.”
“I had a miscarriage, late in the first trimester. Not uncommon. The doctor said everything was fine. I was young and healthy. No reason to worry I wouldn’t be able to carry another baby to term.”
Short of startling her by jumping up and pumping his fist in the air, Jackson settled for the party going on in his mind. “You’ve worked so hard, and you’re so close to graduating, but I hope you won’t make me wait too long. You have no idea how arousing it is for me to think of you carrying our baby.”
* * * *