One Man

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “What does that mean, Jax?”

  “It means that you can stop worrying about York. I’ll handle him.”

  His voice doesn’t change. His expression doesn’t change, and yet there is a lethal quality to Jax in this moment. I lean forward and grab his hands. “I didn’t tell you this to lead you to trouble. Don’t ask for trouble. Just be ready for it if it finds you.”

  “York asked for trouble the minute he walked into your apartment and tried to control you.”

  “Jax—”

  His hand slides under my hair and he drags my mouth to his. “I told you. I’ll protect you.”

  “You don’t know how dangerous these people are. If you aren’t careful, Jax, it will be me protecting you.”

  He pulls me to him, taking me down on the couch with him, his powerful leg catching mine. “Fuck me instead.”

  I open my mouth to object, to warn him about York until he listens, but his mouth closes down on mine in a searing kiss. A kiss that is all about demand. It’s possession. It’s sex and sin and satisfaction. It’s a kiss that leaves no room for conversation.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Emma…

  All too easily, I forget everything but how this man feels. There is just his tongue, his hands, and this wild passion vibrating between us. Our kiss is somehow different than any kiss we have shared before now. It’s a kiss that is wicked and possessive, hungry and greedy, and yet somehow tender, and it unlocks a part of me long suppressed, long lost. A part of me that I’d thought never to be found, buried for reasons that I tell no one, reasons that are my secret, but that secret is here now. I’m here with him completely, consumed in all ways. I’m not only kissing him back, I can’t stop kissing him, touching him. And he’s touching me, too, skimming my shirt up my waist, his warm, strong hands on my naked skin, and I’m touching him, hard flexing muscle beneath my palms. I can’t get enough and I can feel his urgency expand into mine. He deepens the kiss, scooping me up by my backside and molding me to his hips, the thick ridge of his erection pressed against my belly. I need this man. I need to forget everything but him for so many reasons right now, and remarkably, he makes that possible.

  I am so inside the moment, living every lick and touch that I barely know how we end up naked, but we do, his thick shaft between us. My hand reaches for it, wraps it, and I revel in the low groan that slides from his lips. He tangles his fingers in my hair and drags my mouth to his mouth. “Who knew you were what I needed?” he murmurs, nipping my bottom lip, his breath warm on my cheek, his cock pressing inside me, stretching me, filling me, and I can barely catch my breath. I breathe out as I take all of him, and finally, he’s buried deep, our bodies pressed together on the small couch, a wild pull between us that should drive us to move.

  But we don’t move.

  Suddenly, we’re just staring at each other, the air between us thickening, expanding, and it doesn’t feel like it’s about sex—no, this has nothing to do with sex. Or maybe it does. It’s nothing I know, nothing I have ever experienced. He’s like nothing I have ever known. I feel him, I feel him in ways I didn’t know that you could feel a man, and it terrifies me. York hurt me. He destroyed me in ways that most can’t understand, but Jax, he affects me, he understands me—if I let Jax get close, he could destroy me in ways York never could. I don’t want him to have that power. I can’t give him that power and yet, I’m powerless to stop whatever this is between us.

  A charge sparks in the air, and we snap then, kissing and touching, my fingers in his hair, tugging roughly and I don’t even care if it hurts. I hope it does. That’s what he gets for making me want him this badly, that’s his punishment, but he doesn’t let that go. His hand wraps my hair and gives an erotic tug, even as his fingers punish my nipple, the spiral of sensations flowing through to my sex, arching my hips, clenching my sex around his cock.

  Jax’s tongue sweeps deep into my mouth, his hips pumping into me, hand finding my backside to pull me against a thrust, and then we are moving, swaying, fucking. Wild. Slow. Wild all over again. At some point, the wildness takes over fully and our mouths part, lips close, the two of us breathing together, breathing in each other. I don’t want this escape to end and that thought only makes me kiss him harder, move harder, touch him, everywhere. I want this to last, and I feel that in him, too, like we know reality will be harsh and cold, a divider we may not conquer, and yet, we do nothing to slow down. We’re beyond that now. But there is no staying in this place, no pleasure this good that can last forever. The next thrust of his cock undoes me, driving me to the sweet place that tenses my body into orgasm.

  I call out his name, cling to him and then I’m there, my sex spasming around him, my face buried in his neck. His arm wraps around my waist, anchoring me to him, and he pumps again, a low, gruff, wholly masculine sound sliding from his lips as his entire body quakes. My nails dig into his shoulders, punishing him for letting this end, punishing him for making me want him this damn much. But then my body melts into his, and his into mine, and there is a calm perfection that follows. He rolls slightly and settles me half on top of him and half on top of the couch. I know I should get up, but I don’t and he doesn’t. His heart thunders beneath my ear, a low steady thrum that soothes and grounds me in the moment, in the man. His arm wraps around me, holding me close, almost willing me to stay just where I am, and so I do. I shut my eyes and drift into the sweet laden haze of satisfaction, relishing it, and refusing to let anything else in right now.

  ***

  Jax…

  I lay there holding Emma, listening as she fades into sleep, thinking about everything she told me tonight, wondering what the fuck York has on her. Knowing there is far more to this than just Marion and an affair. He has something on her personally, and there’s this raging protective part of me that wants to get up now, charge to Savage’s location, and stand over him and his team until they get me answers. But that would mean letting Emma go, and as insane as it might be, considering her last name, I don’t want to let go. I’m not fucking letting go. In my gut, I think she needs me to hold on, and not just because I want her, but because she has rocked my world like no woman before her. I think Emma is in real trouble, perhaps more than she realizes, and that reminds me a little too much of what I felt with my brother, who is now dead.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Jax…

  It near dawn when I wake as Emma begins to make soft little sounds in her sleep. I lay there holding her, debating waking her up, not sure if this is simply a dream or a nightmare. My answer comes when she sobs and gasps for air. A moment later, she jolts upward, and I go with her, tightening my arm around her, both of us naked, but I’m not cold. She’s shivering. “God, it’s freezing in here.”

  It’s not freezing, not at all, and I suspect her reaction is more from the contents of that nightmare, than the room’s temperature. I grab a throw blanket off the nearby chair and wrap it around her. “Thank you,” she whispers, but she doesn’t look at me.

  I stroke her hair. “You okay?”

  She nods, still no look. “Yes. Just—just a bad dream.” She curls tighter into herself, withdrawing, which I get. It’s how she’s survived. It’s what she does to push forward and from what I can tell of her family and York, that’s a practice she’s long embraced.

  “I’ll grab you the hotel robe,” I say, and I don’t wait for her reply. I sense she needs a minute to herself and I get that. There are things in my past that don’t exactly warrant sharing either, things I cope with on my own. Understanding this, I give her a minute, pushing to my feet and snatching up my pants, pulling them on.

  I round the corner into the bedroom, open the closet just outside the bathroom and pull out the robe. The minute I turn with the intent of returning to Emma, she appears in front of me, clutching the throw blanket at her breasts. “I should shower. I have to deal with Marion this morning.”

  She’s edgy, a doe in headlights, ready to run. I catch her hip and step i
nto her, dragging her against me. “Don’t do that,” I order softly. “Don’t shut me out.”

  Her fingers curl on my chest and for a moment she doesn’t look at me. She also doesn’t deny that she’s shutting me out. “Emma,” I prod softly, wondering what the fuck that bastard did to her.

  Her gaze lifts to mine. “I’m here, Jax. I’m not shutting you out.”

  I risk saying what I promised not to say. “I’m not him.”

  “If you were,” she says, “I wouldn’t be here. I’d have done more than shut you out. I’d have shut you down.”

  “Then talk to me. What was that about? Is it a regular thing?”

  “I have nightmares when I feel like I’m spinning out of control. It’s a control freak thing. And I’ve had nightmares since I started reading the journal. That’s all.”

  “What kind of nightmares?”

  “It’s not about some deep dark secret that you want to know, and I know already. I can’t remember much of anything when I wake up, the memories are just tiny, shattered pieces. I just know I wake up cold and a mess.” She presses her hand to her face and then drops it. “Maybe I know something I don’t know I know. Maybe they’re just about death. Maybe they’re nothing but me falling off a cliff because I feel so damn out of control right now. I don’t know. What I do know is that I really need coffee, a shower, and to have Marion out of my day.”

  Falling off a cliff. These words rip through me and I can feel my fingers digging into her arms. She didn’t mean to connect dots to my past, to my brother. I don’t sense that in her. I don’t believe she’s fucking with my head, but still, I let her go. “I’ll order coffee.”

  She doesn’t walk away. Her eyes search my face. “My turn. What just happened?”

  “Nothing happened.”

  She grabs my belt and I don’t believe that’s an accident. It’s her trying to tell me she really is here with me. “What just happened?” she presses again.

  I stare down at her and I can feel the edge inside me ripping and cutting from words that mean nothing to her and everything to me. “Nothing that coffee and you can’t solve.” I strip away the throw blanket, cup her naked backside, and carry her toward the shower. We both need to fuck. And after that, I’m going to find the person, or persons, who fucked my brother and fuck them, too, but unlike Emma, they won’t enjoy it.

  I enter the bathroom, still holding Emma as I turn on the shower and then set her on her feet, kissing her as I do. Getting rid of my pants is fast, and I all but carry Emma into the shower with me. When cold water hits us, she cries out with the shock and I grunt, righting the water, and just that easily, we’re laughing—I’m fucking laughing when a minute earlier I was coming out of my own skin. And she was, too, for that matter.

  I press her into the corner, and somehow, we end up just staring at each other, seconds ticking by, lust and anger shifting, changing to something different, something I don’t recognize as familiar. My hand slides to her neck, under her hair, and I drag her mouth to mine. “What are you doing to me, woman?” I ask, my mouth closing down on hers, and when I kiss her, it’s a tender stroke of tongue. And when I enter her, when I slide deep inside her, it’s not fucking. It’s raw and real, a deep hollow inside me where anger and a burn for revenge have lived fills with her. She’s my motivation now. She’s changed why I’m here.

  ***

  I leave Emma in the bathroom, finishing her morning routine, which isn’t an easy task, considering she’s wearing a tiny pink silk robe that makes me want to take her back to the shower. Once I’ve stepped away though, entering the bedroom, I slip into action mode and waste no time dressing. Out of the necessity of time, I skip shaving, but dress in an expensive navy pinstriped suit that says I’m ready to do business, be it with York, Emma’s brother, or Eric Mitchell on this financial deal I’m negotiating with him that gets more complicated the closer I get to Emma.

  Next up, I order coffee, a selection of pastries, and then step onto the patio to dial Savage. He answers on the first ring. “Morning, sunshine,” he greets. “How do you like your eggs?”

  “The same way I like my life, right side up. What do you have for me?”

  “I’m an ass man myself, hardboiled.”

  “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

  “One day you will,” he says, whatever that means, and thankfully he moves on from the nonsense. “As for what I have for you? I homed in on York as the active aggressor. He met with his aunt Marion last night, minus her husband. After that meeting, Marion called Emma’s brother and then he called and texted Emma’s phone.”

  “I know about the attempted call and the text. Chance and Marion want to meet Emma this morning. She believes Marion wants to silence her.”

  “Because she knows Knight Senior was having an affair with Marion.”

  “Yes,” I say, impressed at how quickly he got to that information. “York is threatening her to keep her quiet about it, coming at her like a freight train. I’m gambling here and saying my brother knew, too, which means York went at him, too.”

  “I’d say that’s a good gamble. We hacked York’s, Chance’s, and Marion’s calendars. Interesting thing about Marion’s calendar—the month your brother died, you know what we found? Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing, but she has a full calendar now.”

  “She wiped evidence,” I say following his lead. “But she was also having an affair. That’s a good reason to wipe her calendar.”

  “An affair that she was desperate to hide. That leads me places but we’ll go there together later. Our team has only been on this for a few hours. We’ll know more soon.”

  “I’m escorting Emma to work and then headed to meetings,” I say. “Make sure she stays safe.”

  “Safe as an angel in a savage heaven. What exactly is York using to threaten Emma?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I thought she told you everything?” he challenges.

  “Don’t be a smartass.”

  “It’s bred in me, man. I can’t help it. Do you want me to find out for you?”

  “No,” I say. “She’ll tell me. Focus on finding out what’s really going on here, because it’s more than an affair.”

  “Understood. You want her to trust you. Just don’t trust too much.”

  “You don’t need to keep delivering that warning, Savage. I know what I’m doing with Emma. Focus on getting me answers.” I disconnect.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Emma…

  The nightmare haunts me even now, sitting at the room service table with Jax. I sip my coffee and listen as Jax tells me about the castle’s history that dates back a hundred years, but even so, even as interested as I am in what he’s saying, I can’t shake this nagging, ominous feeling that nightmare produced.

  Still I ask questions, I engage. I want to know this man, I want to know about his life. “And the whiskey is produced right there?”

  “The actual whiskey production is in Portland. We have two thousand employees there. At the castle, we run the business office, and there’s a facility for new product development. The attached land has a storage facility for the whiskey.”

  There’s no way my family doesn’t know this, not if they were scouting the property. I open my mouth to say as much, but Jax’s cellphone rings. He grabs it from the table and glances at the number. “Jill. My operations manager.” He answers the line, and they begin talking about the event he’s invited me to attend this weekend.

  “We are not blindfolding customers for a taste test,” Jax says, pushing to his feet in obvious agitation. He walks toward the balcony and just that easily, I’m flashing back to the past.

  There’s a blindfold on my eyes and I want it off, I want it off so badly, but I can’t get it off. My hands are bound, and oh God, I’m naked. I try to do what he told me to do, to sink into the darkness, to lose myself in the darkness and forget everything else, but I can’t. It’s as if pins
are prickling my skin. I shift from a past memory to the nightmare and all I can remember is falling into the darkness, certain that I will hit the ground and die any moment.

  “Emma.”

  At the sound of Jax’s voice, my gaze jerks up to find him standing by the side of my chair, towering above me. “Yes?”

  “Why are you holding the butter knife like you’re about to stab the croissant to death?” He goes down on a knee in front of me, turning my chair to face him. His hand closes around the knife, and he sets it on the table. “Talk to me. What just happened?”

  I swallow hard, in a place right now with Jax I don’t want to be. “I remembered the nightmare or part of it. I was falling.”

  “Falling,” he says softly, his fingers flexing on my knee, just under the navy-blue skirt I’m wearing. “You said that earlier. Tell me. You were falling?”

  There is something in this question, something sharp and hard, and yet his voice doesn’t change, his expression doesn’t change. “Yes, I told you, it’s a control thing. It’s this meeting with Marion and York showing up. Not to mention having my own apartment become a hazard. Triggers. These things are triggers. I’m actually looking forward to my Germany trip in two weeks. I need out of this city.”

  “Start by coming home with me. Don’t make it a maybe like you did when you were packing. Make it a sure thing.”

  Am I really going to do this? “When?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that. When can you leave?”

  “I’ll know after the meeting,” I say.

  “Does that mean you’re going with me?”

  I breathe out, “Yes. Yes, I do believe I am.”

  The hardness in his eyes evaporates, replaced by warmth. “Then let’s get you to that meeting.” He offers me his hand and helps me to my feet, his hand settling possessively at my hip. His hand that has been all over my body these past few days, memories heating my skin. “I want you with me when I leave, Emma.”