He pinned her shoulders to the bed. “Not as much as you do.”
His aggression was a welcome turn-on. “I love you,” she whispered.
He started rubbing her arms. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He moved his hands down her torso. “Again.”
She’d say anything if he would just get inside her. “I love you.”
He glided a finger back and forth across her panties. “Again. Don’t stop saying it. Not unless I tell you to.”
“I love you.”
He teased her a little more, running his fingers across her panty line until he finally slid them inside her. “You’re wet.” He smiled. “I didn’t tell you to stop saying it.”
She gasped. “I love you.”
He worked two fingers in, swiveling his thumb in a circle around her clit. She dug her nails into his chest.
“You like that?” he whispered. “Don’t answer. Not unless you say the three magic words.”
“I-” She stared at him, unable to speak. And he must have seen the arousal in her expression because he stopped moving his thumb. She moaned her frustration. “Please,” she said.
“That’s not it.”
“I love you,” she said. “Please.”
Jack kissed her. “Good girl. Now I’m going to let you come.” He pressed his thumb to her clit again, crushing his lips to hers as she writhed against him. When he pulled back he smiled at her.
“Say it again,” he said.
She laughed, cuddling into his neck. “I love you.”
He stroked her hair. “I know.” She could feel his cock pressing against her stomach. “Guess what I want.”
It was only fair to make him work for it first. “Your turn to say the three magic words.”
He tugged his boxers down as she hastily discarded her panties. “I love you,” he said. “Say it back.”
She whimpered as he pressed his cock into her. “I love you too,” she said softly.
“You do?” he asked. “Even when I’m fucking you like this?”
Caroline grabbed his hair in her fists. “Especially when you fuck me like this.”
They lay there, side by side, with him moving inside her and her not saying a word. She cried out when he went deep, but mostly smiled and whispered his name. He was gentle but rough, kind but raw. Not nearly as acrobatic as some of their previous sessions, but exactly what she needed.
“I love you,” he said again. “I love you so fucking much.”
She held onto him tighter until he was finished and buried his face in her hair. Neither one of them spoke until Jack said the last thing she expected.
“You need to go to The Hague,” he said. “We both do. Regardless of the outcome of this process. If the application isn’t good enough, we go anyway.”
Any ambivalence had vanished. She pulled back to look at him. “Did getting laid make you think of that?”
“No. But everything that’s happened, everything that’s been dredged up…we have to demand they listen to you. It’s the only way.”
“What about Edwards?”
“He’ll need to come too. I’m sure they’ll be quite interested in what he has to say.”
And if it was up to her he wouldn’t be making any return trip to California. “Then let’s do it,” she said. “Let’s work on our diplomatic plan.”
* * * * *
She hadn’t slept much, but it didn’t matter. Sex was a great distraction from reality. Caroline got little done the next morning, daydreaming about the night she spent in bed with Jack. If she wasn’t careful she’d let her fantasies get the best of her and go marching across the hall to see him, and she couldn’t have that. She had to focus. They exchanged a few emails but he kept his distance, knowing she needed to concentrate.
She was sitting at her desk, trying to put pen to paper or, more accurately, words to computer. It was more emotionally trying than she had anticipated, and she’d had to take quite a few breaks. When she went to lunch with Natalie, she was quite tempted to swing by the apartment to have a drink before resuming the process. She wasn’t expected to provide a tremendous amount of information but it was draining just thinking about it. She dreaded the prospect of having to recount it all in person.
There was a knock on the door, and she looked up. Jack peeked his head in. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” she said. “This isn’t easy.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”
Caroline shook her head. Her emails must have sounded more flailing than she’d intended. “I need to do this myself.”
“What about Schroeder?”
That was definitely out of the question, even if the guy was sympathetic as hell. “No.”
Jack took one of the chairs across from her desk and cocked his head to the side. “Are you listening to Fleetwood Mac?”
Caroline had spent most of the day distracting herself with streaming music. “Rumours. Their best album, in my expert opinion.”
“What song is this?” Jack asked. “I don’t recognize it.”
“‘Songbird,’” she said, and looked down at her desk. “One of my favorites. It makes me think of Chrissy.”
“Should you be listening to it under these circumstances?”
She pulled her head back up. “Makes me feel better, actually.”
Jack crossed his legs, staring at the back of the computer and listening to the lyrics. “It’s beautiful,” he said. The song ended and the next track began. He smiled. “So, which song makes you think of me?”
Caroline rested her cheek on her hand. “It’s not ‘The Chain,’” she said, since that was the song that had just started. “It’s one that never made it onto the album.”
“‘Silver Springs’?”
Didn’t he get points for paying attention. “I’m impressed, Commander. Never took you for a Fleetwood Mac fan.”
“I like to surprise you.”
“Was that a lucky guess, or were you serious?”
“I know my seventies music,” Jack said.
“Do you think it’s an appropriate choice?”
“Depends. Are you comparing me to Lindsey Buckingham?”
Caroline laughed. “No. I just like the song, some of the lyrics notwithstanding.”
He leaned over the desk to kiss her. “I like it. I like you.”
She smiled shyly. “I like you too.”
He kissed her again. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“From what? I haven’t been able to get anything done.”
“It doesn’t have to be much,” he said. “I’m sure The Hague will take anything you say very seriously.”
That’s what I’m worried about. “It’s hard,” Caroline whispered.
Jack stood behind her at the desk, rubbing her shoulders. “Why don’t you pretend you’re writing the letter to me? Tell them what you talked to me about.”
“I can’t tie it to Santos,” Caroline said. “I know that’s what the ICC is going to want. What California wants.”
“Don’t worry about that. They can help connect the dots. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out those orders were coming from on high.”
“Do you think it’s safe, outing myself like this? I don’t want to compromise the movement. I can ask to be kept anonymous but it will be pretty obvious who I am.”
Jack frowned. “Is this because I was a little hesitant before?” He knelt down next to her chair. “Sweetheart, we didn’t have any sense of direction before you showed up. Now we have a purpose that might spur some action. Just tell the truth. You can give these folks the bare bones and fill in the blanks later.”
“You’re sure you’re okay with taking Edwards along with us?”
“He’ll be in shackles at the back of any goddamn plane, that’s for sure.”
A little harsher statement than what he’d said the night before. “I don’t want you to lose your temper over it.”
Ja
ck rose to his feet, cracking his knuckles. “I wouldn’t mind.”
Caroline spun her chair around to face him. “I’m serious. We have to stay above the fray. I need to get better at controlling my emotions and you need to stop flying off the handle.”
“Back of the plane,” Jack said. “Maybe hogtied.”
She laughed. Despite his bluster, that was an amusing image. “Fine.” She stood up to kiss his cheek. “Will you let me get back to this?”
“Ten minutes. Then you’re heading to the commissary with me to plan Thanksgiving dinner.”
Which was only a few days away. How time flew. “Deal.”
* * * * *
“You made a pie?” Caroline asked. “That’s my job.”
Jones grinned. “We can make it a contest. Whose pie doesn’t suck?”
She took the pan out of his hands. “We both know the answer to that question. You made pumpkin. That’s so boring.”
He shrugged. “Used my mom’s recipe. That tops whatever fancy pie you made.”
Caroline didn’t want to ask him the last time he’d spoken to his mother. So she smiled and put the pie in the fridge. “Key lime beats pumpkin. Basic fruit math.”
Crunch gave her a little hug. “Not on Thanksgiving.”
“Do you want pumpkin?” she asked.
“Fuck no. I saw him making that shit. Too much nutmeg.”
Jones shoved him. “Don’t give away my secrets, dumbass.”
“Guys, it’s a holiday,” Caroline said. “Be nice.”
Crunch threw his arm around Jones’ neck. “Whatever you say, Princess. We’ll behave.”
Gig cheerfully accepted the beer Jack handed him. “Not fucking likely.” He downed half the bottle in one gulp. “How’s our rescuee doing?”
Jack frowned. “We are not going to talk about that today.”
Gig finished his beer. “Can’t believe we helped that piece of shit. Needs to be taught a goddamn lesson, and soon. He cost us too much.”
A not so subtle reference to more than just their mission. He was still missing Gabe. She put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re preaching to the choir,” she said. “Just try not to preach too much to my husband or you’ll get him riled up too.”
“Don’t matter,” Jones said. He punched the air. “You’ve got three hard core security guys ready to beat the shit out of anyone who comes at you.”
“Four,” Jack corrected.
Jesus Christ. With her luck, they’d start comparing penis sizes before the meal even started. A knock at the door saved her from further conversation. “That’ll be Natalie and Mark,” Caroline said. “Why don’t you guys see what’s on TV?”
* * * * *
Jack did his part. Seasoning the turkey, helping with the side dishes, playing the amusing role of household patriarch for the day. He felt nothing but contentment after three pieces of dessert.
“Well done, sweetheart,” he said. “Next time make an extra so I have an entire pie to myself.”
Caroline stuck her tongue out at Jones. “I knew key lime would carry the day.”
Jones scraped the last bit of crust off his plate. “Folks were just being polite.”
Crunch laughed. “Is that why you ate two pieces of hers and only one of your own?” He turned to Mark. “What did you think of the pumpkin? Be honest.”
Mark cleared his throat. “It was fine.”
Natalie grinned. “He told me it had too much nutmeg.”
Crunch raised his hands triumphantly. “Told you, Jonesie.”
Jones put down his fork. “Bite me, man. I don’t need your hassle.”
“Nutmeg is as nutmeg does,” Caroline said.
“Is that our Thanksgiving fortune?” Jack asked. “Because it makes no sense.”
She leaned over to kiss him. “That’s because I’ve had a couple of glasses of your bourbon. Which means I have to make a little trip down the hall.”
Natalie stacked her silverware on her dessert plate, waving at Caroline. “Leave your plate,” she said. “Jack, go relax on the couch. We’ll get to cleaning all of this up. Come on, guys.”
He’d gladly let them do their thing. The benefit of having a guest list with military training – they cleaned up the kitchen and dining room with maximum efficiency. When Caroline got back from the bathroom, the entire table and countertop were clean and Mark was headed out the door with a full bag of garbage.
She scanned the kitchen. “Where’s the napkin that was on the island?” she asked.
Natalie, who had been wiping off the table, looked up. “I tossed it.”
Caroline gave the countertops another look. “Are you sure?”
“It was trash, right?”
“No, it was – that was the wishbone.”
Jack sat up straighter. Shit. They’d saved it and he wrapped it in a napkin for her, and hadn’t thought to tell the cleanup crew not to throw it away. “Caroline, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She headed for the garbage can. “Who took the trash out?”
Natalie stepped over to her. “Caroline-”
Jack stood up. “Mark just left.”
“Get him to come back.”
He saw what was coming. The look in her eyes. Not quite panic but not quite anger. And it was his fault. Every year their daughters goaded Caroline to save the wishbone, then argue over who got to try to make a wish. He hadn’t even thought about something that insignificant setting her off. “Sweetheart-”
She shoved her keys in her pocket. “I’ll find Mark and fish it out. It’s fine.”
Jack grabbed her hand. “Caroline, stop.”
“I need to get it. It’s in the dumpster. I’ll bring it back up.”
She tried to press past him toward the door and he held her back. “Stop,” he said.
“We need it,” she said. “It’s tradition. We’ll put it up and dry it out and tomorrow Mo and Feef can-”
Fuck. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d said their names out loud. She’d talk about them, maybe share a memory or two, shed a few tears and express her feelings, but their names seemed almost sacred to her. Especially their nicknames.
Jack pulled her into a hug. “Stop,” he whispered. “Stop it right now.”
She shoved away from him. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do!” she yelled, marching down the hall and slamming the door.
The entire apartment was silent. Goddammit.
“I’m sorry,” Natalie said. “I didn’t realize-”
She sounded like she was about to cry. “It’s not your fault,” Jack said. “You didn’t know. I’ll go talk to her.”
“No.” Natalie raised her hands. “I messed this up. I’ll fix it. You keep the party going.”
Oh, that would surely turn out well. Gig, Crunch, and Jones were all pretending to be transfixed by whatever was on television. Jack couldn’t wait until Mark got back. Party, indeed. But maybe Natalie could do some good. It certainly couldn’t hurt. “Go work your magic,” he said.
* * * * *
Caroline crawled onto the bed and screamed into a pillow. She couldn’t throw things. She had to keep it together. She was in charge. Everyone was counting on her. Everyone. Couldn’t cry, couldn’t yell, couldn’t lose control. Although that was what she had just done. Dammit.
The door creaked open and she turned over. Natalie spoke before she had a chance to open her mouth.
“I created the problem, so I thought I should be the one to solve it. Jack is entertaining your guests.”
Caroline wiped her eyes, feeling the heat rush into her face. Her outburst suddenly seemed rather trifling. “I’m sorry.”
Natalie sat down on the bed next to her. “You know it’s not your fault.” She sighed. “I feel terrible.”
“You didn’t know. You thought it was garbage.”
“I can still feel badly about it.” Natalie smiled at her. “And don’t you want me to express my feelings?”
Caroline hated knowing that s
he’d caused another person pain through her own struggles. “I guess.”
“Want to talk about it? It might help.”
“It was one of those things I didn’t really think about until I noticed it was gone.”
Natalie smiled gently. “That’s a common theme with you.”
Caroline sighed. “Marguerite and Sophie used to love the wishbone. Like, if we had ham for a holiday they’d get upset because they couldn’t really do anything fun with a hambone. Except make soup.” She tried to smile. “So we had turkey as much as possible. I’d save the wishbone and we’d decide who got to play and make a wish. When they got older I used to just let the two of them do it together but sometimes they’d want me to join in. It’s pretty silly.”
“It’s not silly. It’s a good memory. And it was clearly something that was important to you and your children.”
She shook her head. “They’re not here, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Natalie put her arm around her. “Caroline, these things are always going to matter. And you have a right to get upset about them every once in a while. I’m just sorry I triggered that reaction in you.”
“You had no idea it would happen. Does everyone think I’m crazy?”
Natalie gave her a hug that felt almost like a reproach. “Sometimes you take fault for things that aren’t your responsibility. And you overanalyze to death. They all understand.”
“I was making progress, Natalie. I was starting to talk to Jack about the girls, thinking about them without getting upset. And now here I am, right back where I started.”
“You’re not where you started. You’re going to have bad moments. A few months won’t erase that. You may have bad moments a year or a decade from now. Cut yourself some slack.”
“I can’t keep flying off the handle and losing control like that. It’s not healthy.”
Natalie put her arm around Caroline. “It’s not healthy to bottle it up, either. You have to accept your setbacks, because they’re invariably going to occur. Set small goals and don’t beat yourself up if you don’t meet them. Your timelines are going to be different every day. If you need to have a rotten few hours or even a rotten week, let yourself. You’re allowed. I give you permission.”
Rhapsody (The Bellator Saga Book 5) Page 31