Break Me (Corrupted Hearts Book 2)

by Tiffany Snow

  My heart hurt for him, that last barrier I’d erected to protect myself crumbling into dust. I reached up, cradling his cheek. His eyes closed and he tilted his head into my hand, turning slightly so he could kiss my palm. I moved closer, sliding my arm around his waist.

  “I am not lying to you. I’m not using you. And I’m not going to be fickle and flake out on you just because my coworker is an attractive guy.”

  He opened his eyes, his expression grave. His eyes were like windows to his soul, so expressive I could see the decades-old hurt in them. Impulsively, I stood on my toes, pressing my lips to his.

  “I believe you,” he whispered.

  He took me in his arms and my mouth opened beneath his, my arms winding around his neck. The scent of the ocean mingled with his cologne as his tongue stroked mine. His lips were soft, leading me and drawing me with him to where nothing mattered but his touch.

  Breaking off the kiss, Jackson looked at me and what I saw now in his eyes made my heart beat faster. He took my hand and led me inside. I barely noticed where we were going, unable as I was to look away from his eyes.

  Down a hall and through a door, then he was undressing me. First the button-up, then the T-shirt, dragged over my head. The jeans and shoes followed. The glasses were gently set aside and I was left in a pale-pink-with-white-polka-dots matching bra and panty set (demi bra with adjustable straps). I reached up to take my ponytail down and he stopped me.

  “Don’t. I like that part.”

  The slow slide of the elastic band was like foreplay. He dropped it and used both hands to run his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and moaned in appreciation, my nipples tightening in response. I reached for the buttons on his shirt, but he stopped me.

  “Not yet.”

  My bra was undone with a flick of his fingers. I shrugged off the straps and let it fall to the floor. His gaze on my breasts was like a caress. I didn’t move as he cupped each breast, lifting them as he bent his head. The touch of his tongue on my nipple sent a bolt of heat through me and my eyes fluttered shut; I slid my fingers through his hair as his mouth closed over me and he sucked, first one breast, then the other, paying due homage to them both.

  Knees weak, I clutched his shoulders as his hand slid down inside my panties. His fingers slipped between my folds to the core of me. He pressed kisses to my neck as he touched me. I tried to remember to breathe.

  “I want to taste you.” His words whispered against my skin, and a brief touch of his tongue to the pulse throbbing in my neck.

  He walked me back until my knees hit the edge of the bed and I sank down. Tugging at my panties, he pulled them down and off my legs. Then he dropped to the floor, pushed my knees apart, and buried his head between my thighs.

  It was heaven. Pure bliss. I moaned again, not wanting to close my eyes against the sight of him doing this to me. His hands spread me further, baring the most intimate part of me to him. His tongue was heat and torment, bringing me to the edge. Faster he’d kiss me, until I was almost there, then he’d slow down and tease me with featherlike strokes.

  “Oh God . . . oh please . . . Jackson . . .”

  My whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, my legs splayed as I clutched his head to me. All I could focus on was what he was doing to me. Nothing else existed but the orgasm hovering close, but just beyond my reach.

  He slid a finger inside me and I gasped. He added another, pumping his fingers as he licked my clit, his tongue mimicking his fingers. It was a move he’d done before that he knew I loved. Jackson fucking me with his fingers and tongue, still fully dressed, was an incredible turn-on.

  “Oh yes, oh yes . . . please . . . don’t stop . . .” My entreaties became moans, then cries as a powerful orgasm crashed into me. Jackson laved my clit in long sweeps of his tongue, prolonging the pleasure until even that gentle touch became too much and I had to push him away.

  I was panting, my eyes nearly glued shut, and limp from the bone-wringing orgasm. Jackson looked both satisfied . . . and ravenous. Without a word, he stripped while I watched, my libido perking up with each newly revealed patch of skin. His cock was straining against his pants and I waited eagerly for its appearance.

  “You are so beautiful,” I murmured when he was fully naked.

  The waning sunset painted his skin a light bronze and his hair a deeper shade of mahogany. The muscles his suits camouflaged were on full display and my eyes followed the carved indentations of his abdomen down to his thighs.

  “Mr. Happy looks pleased to see me,” I said, grinning. My pet name for his “member” made him chuckle, then he picked me up from the edge of the bed. I took the opportunity to kiss his neck and shoulder, the muscles there tight as he carried me around the bed and put me down smack-dab in the middle.

  When he crawled in after me, I pushed at his shoulder until he lay on his back, then scooted down between his legs. I had Mr. Happy in my mouth before Jackson could say a word. He was thick and hard—I grasped his shaft as my tongue circled the sensitive tip.

  Opening my eyes, I glanced up to see Jackson watching me, his eyes burning with want. The heat inside me spread and I took him deep in my mouth, his answering groan making me smile. Cupping his balls, I gently massaged them as I slid my tongue along his length.

  “Holy shit, China,” he gasped. His hands clutched at the sheet as I took him deeper, provoking another groan.

  His hips jerked upward into my mouth and I let him control our movements. His fingers tangled in my hair as he pumped his cock. I was pretty good at this but even so, I had to stop to breathe after a few minutes. I’d barely brushed all my hair back from my face before Jackson had tossed me onto my back and was kissing me.

  It was a long, deep kiss of need and desire. He was kneeling between my spread legs and when he ended the kiss, he sat back to position Mr. Happy in the right spot.

  I didn’t know why, but this was one of my favorite things to watch. Something was so erotic about seeing him readying himself to take me. An ancient and primeval part of me recognized the ownership in that moment, that I belonged to him and this was when we sealed that pact.

  The feel of his cock stretching me, filling me, made both of us sigh in pleasure. It felt so good, so right. I circled my legs around him, holding him close to me as he began to move. We didn’t kiss. He was watching me, his gaze on mine, which felt even more intimate than kissing while we made love.

  He grew harder inside me, moving faster. I couldn’t keep my eyes open as another orgasm crept up on me.

  I cried out, this one even more intense than the last, and he paused, still buried inside me.

  “Oh, God, that was amazing,” I breathed as he started to move again, slow at first, then harder and faster. My body was so sensitive, the pleasure became more intense at each stroke of his cock against me. I clutched his sweat-slicked shoulders, tears leaking from my eyes at the overwhelming sensation.

  “China . . . China . . . I’m coming . . . oh God!” He thrust harder, shouting wordlessly as his body convulsed. I held him close, memorizing the feel of him on top of me, inside me. I was still having aftershocks and the feel of his cock pulsing sent another ripple of pleasure through me.

  Afterward, we lay there. He was panting and I stroked his back, my legs holding him close. If there was a spiritual plane to making love, I felt as though we’d just touched it.

  “I must be crushing you,” he said, pushing himself up on his arms. He brushed a kiss to the tip of my nose.

  I smiled. “It’s fine. I love the weight of you on top of me.”

  “Ditto,” he said, flipping over onto his back and taking me with him so I ended up lying on his chest. I rested my chin on my folded arm so I could look up at him. He used both hands to brush my hair back from my face and looked deeply into my eyes.

  “I love you.”

  13

  My heart skipped a beat and my smile faded. I blinked. Had I really heard what I thought I had? “What did you say?”
<
br />   Jackson’s eyes twinkled. “I said that I love you. I didn’t want to say it during. Didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just feeling the postcoital euphoria associated with the release of oxytocin, most commonly referred to as the afterglow?”

  “I’m sure,” he said, his smile widening.

  Oh. Well, that put a whole other spin on it. Jackson said he loved me. It was a really big deal. Even I, experience-devoid as I was, knew that. I also knew the socially acceptable reply was “I love you, too,” but I hesitated.

  Jackson’s smile faded as he ran his fingers through my hair. “You don’t have to say it back. I understand.”

  I couldn’t bear the thought that I was hurting him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that . . . I don’t know. Not yet. It feels so soon.”

  “I didn’t realize that there was a time requirement on loving someone.” There was a slight bitterness to his voice, but I didn’t know if I was imagining it or if it was really there.

  “Love is a powerful emotion and declaring its presence to someone is a major step in a relationship,” I said. “It sets expectations for the other person, whether intentionally or not.”

  Now his face was impossible to read. “So you’d rather I not tell you that I love you,” he said, making it a dry statement rather than a question.

  “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want to go too fast. Only a few days ago, you were on a date with another woman.” Which still rankled. “And you never did tell me why you were there or what you were speaking to Lu about.”

  “Then we’re even because you won’t tell me what you’re doing that requires you to work with Clark,” he retorted.

  That postcoital bliss had all but evaporated and with a sigh, I scooted off him. I had the feeling I’d ruined the moment, but was at a loss as to how I could’ve reacted differently. Falling in love with Jackson felt like a slippery slope. The past few days had made me aware of how very much the landing could hurt, regardless of how euphoric the fall was.

  Saying those three words wasn’t just a declaration, but also a commitment. At least it was from my point of view, and maybe that was the crux of it. I didn’t trust that Jackson and I both viewed it the same way.

  Without a word, he got up and disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing behind him.

  I cleared my throat several times, wanting to keep my composure. Getting out of bed, I dressed and headed for the kitchen.

  The sun had set and the sky outside was dark, but I opened the doors to the terrace so I could hear the ocean waves against the sand. Next, I searched the refrigerator. My stomach was gnawing my insides and anything sounded good.

  I found enough lettuce and veggies to make a decent salad, so I started putting that together. It helped, having something to do, and I heard the water start running from the bedroom. Jackson must be taking a shower.

  After making two salads, I checked my phone. Two missed calls—number unknown—with no voice mails. Hmm. Plus text messages from Mia and Clark. I checked Mia’s first.

  Did you hear about Granny??

  I hastened to reassure her. Yes, and I came to see her. She’s doing really well. Tell your dad for me. Going home tomorrow. Don’t worry. XOXO

  Then Clark’s.

  Everything okay?

  I’d told him about my grandma and having to leave for Pensacola. In my absence at Vigilance, he was the next one in charge, with Derrick’s help on the tech side, of course.

  She’s okay. Taking her home from the hospital tomorrow. How’s work? Anything more on the package left in the park?

  Influx of funds right before. Gambling debts.

  Ah. So Mr. Dwyer’d had a gambling problem. An obvious thing to look for, if you’re a foreign agency looking to recruit—or blackmail. It was something Gammin had warned me about. I didn’t have a lot of sympathy, though perhaps I should’ve. I’m sure he hadn’t considered he’d end up dead rather than merely a debt-free traitor.

  Noted. Anything on our common friend?

  Yes. He’s left for parts unknown. Working on locating. G wants to take a closer look at business negotiations.

  Gammin wanted more information on what Lu had been up to while he was here.

  Find anything?

  F Comm chair had backdoor. Working on staff now.

  Not surprising. The Senate Finance Committee had the power to modify trade deals and put them up for a senate vote. If the chairman of the committee had secretly met with Lu via backdoor channels, the president would want to know what was discussed. So Gammin was having Vigilance run surveillance on the staffers, to find out if anyone knew what had been said.

  Ok. Keep me in the loop. I went to put down my phone, but it buzzed again with another message from Clark.

  Be careful.

  Not exactly an outpouring of worry, but coming from Clark, it was nearly the equivalent. I was surprised he bothered to even send that. Clark seemed to be a me-first-everyone-else-a-distant-second kind of guy. I couldn’t blame him. If I’d lived through what he had, I might feel the same. It was much easier not to care.

  I had to check my email so I opened my laptop and connected to Wi-Fi, then my VPN to the office. Thirty-five new emails. Ugh.

  Going through them quickly, I flagged some for priority and sent off a few quick replies to others. I was nearly done and about to sign off when I had a thought. Opening another window, I began typing, running software in the background until I found what I wanted. The bot I’d piggybacked onto Kuan’s system. A moment later, I’d activated his webcam and pulled up another screen. I couldn’t see him, but could hear him tapping the keys of his keyboard. I’d thought maybe he wouldn’t have covered his camera, but that had been too much to hope for. Oh well. At least I could hear him through its mic.

  Payback’s a bitch, I thought as I started typing.

  Doing your homework? I asked. The keyboard tapping stopped. I could hear some kind of music in the background. Maroon 5 fan?

  “Who is this?” he asked.

  Not really fun to be hacked now, is it, I typed on the screen.

  I heard a low laugh. “It’s you. It’s China. Right?”

  Bingo.

  “Pretty sweet,” he said. I heard a squeak, as though he’d shifted in his chair. “Color me impressed.”

  That wasn’t my goal, but considering your skills, I’ll take that as a compliment.

  Kuan laughed. “So what do I owe this visit? Just a demonstration of your mad skills?”

  Not exactly. Sometimes we need people like you who can . . . work off the radar. Since hacking into a government agency is a federal offense, I’ll overlook your transgression in a quid pro quo agreement.

  “Oh really. What kind of quid pro quo?”

  There’s a Chinese businessman named Simon Lu, I typed. He’s currently off the radar. We need to know where he is and what he’s doing.

  “Lu?” he asked. “I know him. He’s a Chinese spy. I’ve tracked him before.”

  Even better. I figured with Kuan’s Taiwan background, he’d harbor plenty of animosity toward the Chinese. Great. So you agree?

  “Yeah. No problem.”

  Excellent. I’ll be in touch.

  I signed off the VPN and shut down the computer just as I heard Jackson coming back.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  I turned around to see him fresh from the shower, his hair damp, and he wore an unbuttoned shirt with shorts and bare feet. My gaze caught on his chest and I suppressed a little sigh.

  “Yeah, I’ll tell you while we eat. I made a couple salads if you’re hungry.”

  It didn’t take us long to eat, famished as I was, and I filled him in on Lai Kuan-Yu and how he’d hacked my home network. “But now he’s working for me,” I said. “He’s really good—scary good. Heck, you might want to give him a job when he graduates.”

  Jackson didn’t say much to this and I didn’t know if that meant he was in
agreement or just considering.

  After we were done cleaning up, Jackson caught me gazing out at the moonlight on the ocean. “Want to go for a walk?” he asked, handing me one of the glasses of white wine he’d poured.

  I glanced down at my feet. “I’ll get sand on my feet and jeans.”

  “Take off the jeans.”

  My eyebrows shot up, but he just laughed. “There’s no one around, it’s the off-season. Besides, your T-shirt is long enough to cover you.”

  He had a point, so I slipped off my jeans and followed him outside and down the stairs from the deck. I sipped my wine as we strolled toward the water, and he took my hand so I could keep my balance on the shifting sand beneath my feet. It was cold, which took me by surprise as I’d expected the sand to be warm.

  Walking hand in hand on the beach while a full moon shone overhead was arguably the most romantic thing I’d ever done, yet I could feel the tension between us like a living thing, and I regretted not saying I love you back. It wasn’t as though I could tell him now, though, not just out of the blue. He’d know it was a result of guilt.

  But there was something else I could do to let him know how I felt.

  “I work with Clark because I have to,” I said. The waves crashed onto the shore as the tide was receding, rougher than they had been earlier. “The software you wrote—what Wyndemere wrote—wasn’t destroyed. It’s been put to use . . . by the US government.”

  Jackson stopped in his tracks, pulling me around to face him. Reluctantly, I looked up, wincing at the anger and disbelief on his face.

  “Please tell me you know this secondhand,” he said, “and not from personal hands-on knowledge.”

  Slowly, I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Jackson. But I wasn’t given much choice. Vigilance is up and running . . . and I’m overseeing its implementation.”

  He looked as if I’d slapped him, and he didn’t reply. Instead, he turned and paced away a few steps, then stopped. Downing the rest of his wine, he suddenly hurled the empty glass into the waves, then stood there with his hands braced on his hips.