Save Me (Saved Series, Book One)

by Laura L. Cline

  “Because I was dressed like a whore,” I say, looking out the window.

  “No, because you were and are stunning,” Jack answers. He stares at me with longing. The liquid heat inside me starts to simmer. “And watch it. The last guy who called you that ended up on the end of my fist.” A smile breaks his face a little, softening it. He opens and closes his hand, flexing his fingers.

  “Let me see,” I say, reaching for his hand. The knuckles are red and the middle one is a little puffy. I massage the back of his hand and his open palm. Deep lines crisscross his palm and his calloused fingers.

  "Why are you how you are?” he asks so quietly I have to strain to hear him.

  I don't wait for him to elaborate; I know what he means. "I'm the way I am for a lot of reasons, Jack. Just like everybody else."

  "You're nothing like anybody else," he says, turning those new moon eyes on me.

  I pull his fingers to my hand, each swollen knuckle brushes my lips and I kiss them. Jack looks at me, the heat emanating from his eyes and his body radiates across the space like a sun. A bright, shining, burning sun.

  “Why’d you let me kiss you like that?” he asks.

  "Because I wanted you to. I wanted to taste your lips."

  Jack is visibly affected by my words, but my own body responds to them almost violently.

  "Will you take me home with you, Jack?" I hold my breath.

  His eyes say yes, but I can tell he struggles to answer. I'm still holding his hand and I kiss his fingertips.

  "It wouldn't be right, Carly."

  "What would be wrong with it?"

  "You’d regret me in the morning." He's seriously trying to talk me out of wanting him.

  "How do you know?" I ask.

  "Because I know. Don't think you owe me anything for tonight. I just wanted to be with you and maybe steal a kiss here and there." Jack leans toward me and starts to plant a kiss on my cheek.

  Knock, knock. Allie is standing at the window holding Jack's coat with a big grin.

  I press the button and the window goes down, letting in Allie's excitement.

  "I didn't know which vehicle you were in," she says. "You should see Nick's face."

  "I don't want to," I say.

  "Please, let me apologize for that," Jack says. "It was uncalled for, even though he deserved it."

  "Don't you dare apologize," Allie says. "He was so mean to Carly when they were hooking up-"

  I shoot her a look to shut her mouth, but it's too late. She's already said it. What's more is that she knows she said it. Her face is all regret.

  "Thanks for getting my coat, Allie," Jack says. He reaches into my lap, picks it up and tosses it into the backseat.

  "You're welcome," Allie says. She looks at me apologetically. "Call me tomorrow?"

  "I will," I say. She backs away from the Escalade, that expression of apology still on her face, and I put the window up as she disappears back inside the club.

  "So, what were you two? Friends with benefits?"

  I stare out the window. "Sort of. Except we weren't really friends and there weren't a whole lot of benefits, at least for me."

  Jack nods his head and turns to look out his own window. He pulls the gear shift into drive and eases the Escalade onto the highway.

  We ride toward Captain's in silence. I wish we'd never gone to that fucking club. If we would've just stayed at Captain's or gone anywhere else, this night wouldn't have turned into the clusterfuck it is.

  "Did you love him?" Jack asks. I look across the vehicle at him, but he doesn't meet my eyes at first. When he does, I'm not prepared for their intensity.

  "No," I answer. "I didn't even like him."

  "Then why?"

  "If I could answer that, Jack, I wouldn't have messed with him in the first place."

  "Don't you understand how beautiful you are? How worthy you are of someone better than that asshole? Maybe I'm not good enough, but I know he isn't."

  Jack's hands are tense on the steering wheel and I reach out and loosen the one closest to me. I twist my fingers with his.

  "I want to know how good you are," I say. I pull his hand to my lips, but Jack lets his fingers trail down and around my jaw line in a circle.

  "Do you still want to go to my place?" He looks at me again and this time there's an obvious hunger there.

  "Yes," I answer. Jack turns the Escalade around in a spot beside the highway and we follow the road to whatever happens next.

  Chapter 5

  He exits off an unmarked road and then onto a one lane dirt road. Some of the best things in West Virginia happen on one lane dirt roads.

  Trees line the lane we drive on, black against darker black. There is nothing but darkness in the distance, not even the pin pricks of faraway porch lights. I like the look of his woods at night, dark and inviting and mysterious, just like his eyes.

  We turn a slight left and a large log house comes into view. It’s lit by several of the smallest solar lights, but I can tell even at this distance that it’s beautiful. The front of the dark wood house hosts two massive triangular windows that come to a peak next to a huge stone chimney. He pulls the Escalade around the back and puts it in park.

  “You sure about this? I can take you back to your car if you've changed your mind." His eyes narrow thoughtfully, searching me for something.

  "I'm sure."

  "Okay, then," he says, unclicking his seatbelt.

  He opens his door and I open mine, distractedly looking out at his big house. He comes around to my side and holds the door for me again. I do an awkward step/fall out of the tall vehicle and Jack reaches out to catch me, his arm brushing my breast. My nipple tingles and stiffens. I let out a small laugh and he takes my hand. I'm hit with more of that shocking sensation.

  I follow him up the steps, looking around at the big house. The porch wraps around to the side, disappearing into the darkness. The faint barking of a dog sounds off in the distance.

  The door opens and his scent welcomes me, multiplied by a thousand. It's almost corporeal as it sings through my head.

  He flips a switch and three tiny pendant lights cast the area in a warm glow. I watch him as he hangs the dinner jacket on a hook by the door.

  I go to take off Claire’s diamonds, but drop one of them. It immediately falls out of my sight. "Dammit!" I groan.

  "What happened?" Jack asks.

  "I dropped one of Claire's diamonds," I mutter, getting on my knees to search the floor for it. "It's worth a fortune and she'd kill me if I lost it. I'd probably kill myself."

  He squats next to me and runs his hand along the length of the cabinet. I watch his long fingers dance through the semi-darkness, feeling for the borrowed earring.

  "Ah," he says, holding out the diamond between his fingertips. "Here ya go." Our eyes meet again and our lips are within touching distance. I smile at him and he grins. I take the earring gratefully and put it inside the zipper of Claire's clutch.

  Jack walks toward the stairs, his hands touching the logs of his home with reverence.

  “All West Virginia timber, right here,” he says, leaning against a tall supporting log at the base of the stairs. I smile at him, his eyes never leaving mine. West Virginia timber, huh? In that moment, I want to kiss him so hard his lips bleed.

  “Awfully big house for just one guy," I say. A shadow moves across his face, a response to what I said given by his body instead of his mouth.

  “I didn't plan on the house being just for me forever," he says simply. "Wanna look around?"

  I nod, but what I really wanna do is strip those clothes off him and get a look at that body. His entire house smells like him; everything is saturated with that scent and it pulls at me, my desire swelling with every inhale. It's a deep musky scent, coupled with vanilla and something hot, something spicy. I'm going to sleep with an almost complete stranger tonight and this is how he smells.

  He gets behind me, to watch my ass, I imagine, and lets me lead the way
upstairs. Three large paintings hang on the wall that directly faces the stairs, each one a watercolor of a lake, only slightly different in angle and lighting. I stand and appreciate them for longer than I intend to before I notice Jack watching me. I look over the rail into the living room and down onto the huge fireplace, the dark gray stone work heavy and well placed.

  “Home office here,” Jack says, drawing my attention from the living room. “Doesn’t see much use when I’m always at the mill, but at least it’s here when I need it.”

  Dark maple bookcases line the wall, each shelf filled with thick books. I recognize some of them, but others are unfamiliar. The walls have more of those strangely lovely watercolor paintings; mountains during summer and fall, a path in the forest, leading to some place that’s just out of view. They’re really beautiful and I wonder idly if Jack is the artist.

  The massive cedar desk takes up the most of the room, with a large computer screen that looks tiny by comparison sitting on top. There are photos in the shelves that I’d like to look at, but the tour is just a way for me to get comfortable here, so I don't linger.

  “This,” he says, taking my hand again and pulling me from the room as he pushes open another door, “is the guest room. Again, doesn’t see much use, but it’s good to have.”

  It’s furnished simply and sparsely.

  An inconspicuous queen size bed, a small nightstand, a beat up dresser and chest of drawers make it look a little lonely. A small, old red wagon sits in the corner, a solitary relic of another time. I imagine him pulling his toys around in it as a kid and the thought makes me smile.

  “You’ve got your upstairs bathroom there,” he points at a closed door, “and a hall closet there,” he points at the other closed door. “And that’s about it for the upstairs.”

  I follow him down to the main floor, my fingers finding the knots in the logs that make up the walls. I let my fingers run along the finished wood like I used to do at my grandma’s house where I grew up. The long hallway that connected one end of the trailer we lived in to the other was covered in grayish blue, textured rose wallpaper, ugly but for some reason perfect. I’d run back and forth in the hallway, dragging my fingers over it until they went numb.

  “Kitchen, obviously,” he runs his other hand through his hair, “and living room here. My room is there,” he points to two large glass doors in the living room. “There’s another small bathroom down that hall, another guest room and the dining room.”

  "So that's your bedroom?" I ask, leaning in and closing the space between us. Let's get this show on the road.

  I loop my finger through the gap between two buttons on his shirt. I press in a little, feeling a hard knot of muscle beneath my finger. God, his body has to be gorgeous.

  He takes my hand, more tingling and sparks, and pulls me into his chest. It's almost like hitting a brick wall. "It is."

  "Should we continue the tour in there?" I ask. My muscles are twisted, aching and almost humming with anticipation.

  "There'll be plenty of time for that," Jack whispers. I can smell sweet chewing gum on his breath, minty and pleasant.

  "I like to take a while," I say.

  Jack leans in, the pupil of his eyes almost disappearing into the iris and puts his thumb on my lips.

  "So do I." He kisses me then, softly and it's a different, more personal kiss than the one on the dance floor. I can taste the peppermint on his tongue and it's so sweet. He parts his lips from mine and luckily, my body kicks in and starts breathing again. I know I'm going to be putty in his hands.

  "You want a beer?"

  "Sure," I say, the one word I can manage.

  Jack points toward the couch. “Go grab a seat, Carly.”

  My name is just a name like anyone else's, but hearing Jack say it elevates it, makes it something I wish not everyone knew.

  The plush leather couch almost swallows me as I sit, the softness of the cushions making me instantly comfortable. Looking around his living room, I’m a little surprised at how empty it feels in spite of the big furniture. A large black entertainment center boxes in a flat panel television against the wall opposite the couch, movies filling the shelves in double rows. There are Tarantino movies and zombie films, westerns and comic book films; pretty much what you’d expect a guy his age to watch. My eye falls on a glass top table covered in little wooden figures.

  Several bears, a dog, a cat, what looks like a penguin and a couple of simply carved people populate the glass top world. I wonder if Jack made them as I hear him moving around in the kitchen. This is surreal. Just this evening, I was silently hoping to bump into him again, and now here I am in his house looking at his knick knacks.

  "Here," he says, holding out a Bud Light. I take it and fight the top for a second before it finally pops free. I take a sip, the cold beer doing very little to cool the heat in my lower half. He sits his beer on the table, on the bare table, and I fight the urge to put a napkin or a magazine or anything under it. I take a big drink and let the cold suds go down slowly.

  "You cold?" Jack asks.

  "Quite the opposite, actually," I say. The beer rush hits my brain then, refreshing the Jack Daniels from dinner and spinning the room a little before it flashes away. I turn the bottle so I can pick at the label. It’s a nervous habit of mine, kind of a ritual. I peel it off halfway in one smooth motion.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says, his eyes completing the connection with mine. His face is full of light and it makes his eyes that much more intense.

  “Right now?” I ask.

  “Yes, right this minute,” he answers.

  “I’m thinking of how your lips felt on mine.” I look at him and take in all his beauty.

  He takes a sip of his beer, his lips pressed to the dark brown glass like I wish they were pressed to me. I down the Bud Light again.

  “Your turn,” I say. “What are you thinking?”

  Jack hesitates. “I’m thinking that you’re going to get hurt.”

  I search his face for the exact meaning of his words, but come up short. “How?”

  “I’m a difficult man, Carly,” Jack says, any playfulness that was in him has disappeared. “I’ve got no reason to expect you to offer anything to me, but you need to know that I can’t promise anything to you.”

  “What I offer to someone should be my choice,” I say. “I’m not a stupid girl, Jack. I know what this is.”

  “Exactly what is this, then?” Jack asks.

  “It’s one night and you don’t have to promise me anything about tomorrow. I have a rule against getting hurt. Now, I want you to kiss me again,” I say. Allie was right; I’ll take him any way I can get him.

  Jack leans forward with that cheetah speed of his and presses his lips to mine. My empty beer bottle makes a light thud as it falls to the floor, the sound echoing as if from miles away and then my arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him further into me. He's so fierce, so intense in his movements. His large hand slides up the side of my body, turning up the heat that much higher, before finally grabbing my breast gently.

  I finally manage to look at him. His eyes; they’re so damned intense. Why does he have to look at me the way he does, like he wants to devour me?

  “Kiss me again, Jack,” I say. As each word finds its way out of my mouth, tiny pulses of nervousness course through my body and everything in me goes on hyper alert.

  He leans forward again, his eyes tracing each feature of my face intently. My head is spinning like a top as he puts his hand on my jaw. I let myself be pulled to him and let his lips touch mine again. They’re soft and firm and wet with my saliva.

  Jack kisses me for what feels like forever and no time at all. I don’t want him to ever stop. I press toward him and he pulls me closer, further out of my own head and further into him.

  The analytical part of my brain tries to run the odds that this is going to end badly for me, that Jack's warning won't be an idle threat. I try to block the thought th
at I may be ruining something that could be good by letting this happen. He can be a difficult man and he thinks he’ll hurt me. Right now, that’s a chance I’m willing to take.

  I press my body against him and he returns it; the beer on his breath like an aphrodisiac I can’t resist.

  Jack pushes me gently back on the couch, his mouth moving down my jaw line and to my neck. The sensation sends blood hammering through me, knocking on the sensory door of every nerve in my body. I lace my fingers around his neck and decide to let him do what he wants. I know it’s wrong, that I don’t know much about him, really, but right now concern for my heart is at a minimum because my body is raging.

  My eyes pass over his face, taking note of every hair, every little freckle. There’s small scar underneath his eye.

  “I’m wrinkling your dress,” Jack says. He slides his hands down the length of my thigh and then underneath the hem of the dress. I watch as he slides his fingers into the top of the thigh high on my right leg.

  “Take it off me, then,” I whisper. I watch his eyes as they move down to where his fingers are. He moves his finger around the band of the thigh high and toward my pussy.

  He traces the line of my leg and his thick fingers disappear under the dress.

  Jack touches my pussy gently and looks at me. "I'm going to ask you something, and you have the right to say no."

  I'm so horny and torn up, the probability of me saying no is highly unlikely. "Okay, what is it?"

  "Are you sure you want to do this? I'm giving you one more out. If you want to stop, I'll stop and that's that."

  "My god, Jack. Does it look like I want to stop?" I grab his head and pull him to my mouth like a fiend. He slides his finger between my pussy lips and I spread my legs. He plunges two fingers inside me and I squeal in his ear.

  He moves them in and out; his long, thick fingers expanding me and making me squirm. Jack's mouth explores mine, his lips moving in a flurry of kisses. He licks at my ear and finger fucks me. I've never been able to orgasm from being fingered, but Jack's expert hands bring me close.