by Lori Wilde
“You have a thing for sex in modes of transportation.”
“Motion, baby, motion. I like when things move.”
Good to know. “It must have something to do with all that bat swinging,” she teased.
He guided her down onto the vanity chair, and she did not resist. Slowly, he undressed her as carefully today as he’d been careless the day before. Once she was sitting naked in front of him, he took off his own clothes just as leisurely, peeling his T-shirt off over his head inch by inch, giving her a breath-stealing floor show.
Oh. My. God.
He was glorious, all perfect biceps and triceps and glutes and hamstrings. And his face! His jaw was square, his cheekbones prominent, his dark hair thick and lush, just begging for fingers to ruffle it.
She was woozy and tightly moist, mesmerized by the sight of his taut bare butt as he turned away from her to test the water with his big toe.
“Needs more heat,” he said, and twisted the hot water faucet.
Leaving Jodi with her jaw hanging open, he sauntered into the bedroom, came back with lavender-scented bubble bath, a washcloth, candles, and an mp3 player.
He’d been a busy boy, planning this seduction. Had gone out of his way for her. Jake arranged the candles around the ledge on the far side of the tub, lit the wicks, dumped bubble bath into the water, turned on the music. “Kiss You.”
Their song.
This wasn’t just a seduction. He was romancing her.
She closed her eyes, bit her bottom lip. All her keep-it-sex-only plans were going straight down the drain.
“Jodi.”
Slowly, she opened one eye. He was standing next to her smiling tenderly, and she drowned in the pool of his luxe brown eyes.
See there. That smile. That smile was why she didn’t believe him when he promised that he wasn’t going to fall for her.
She must have looked like she was going to bolt, because he said in a very firm voice, “Come here.”
Reaching down, he took her hands, drew her to her feet. Kissed her. She kissed him back, kneaded her fingertips over his bare chest. He broke the kiss, took her hands in his, drew her closer to the tub.
He climbed in first, easing his big body into the oversized tub, turned off the hot water, turned on the jets, extended his hand to her.
She took his hand to steady herself and slipped into the tub with her back to the faucet so they would be facing each other.
Jake leaned back against the tub, bent his knees up, and planted his feet on either side of her hips. Her breasts floated on the water. Not too small, not too big. Perky and peeking through the bubbles.
He eyed them unabashedly, the blister of his gaze beading her nipples.
The scented white candles flickered, the smell of vanilla in the air mingled with the lavender bubble bath until the entire bathroom smelled like the perfume she’d found in the hope chest.
The song on the mp3 player shifted. “Crazy Love.” Van Morrison. They’d played this song at the wedding she’d crashed as well. Jake had made a playlist of that night.
Her throat tightened and she could scarcely swallow back her fears. Okay, this wasn’t just sex. She couldn’t keep kidding herself anymore. They were in a relationship. This was happening.
And she didn’t mind.
Not in the least.
What if you get your heart broke? There’s so many things that can go wrong. What if you’re fooling yourself? What if—
What if she did get hurt? It wouldn’t be the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Life hurt. That’s how you knew you were alive. But life was also a beautiful adventure, and the bad things were what made the good things worth cherishing. She was here. He was here. It was now. She was going to open her heart and love and if she got hurt, then she’d deal with the pain.
For she’d come to realize that no matter what she’d told herself, she was not the kind of woman who could separate sex from her emotions. For better or worse, that’s just not who she was. And now she was in this up to her neck.
He reached for a washcloth, soaped it up. “Turn around.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just turn around.”
“I’m—”
“Jodi, turn around,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Slowly, she put her back to him.
“Thatta girl.” He rubbed the nubby cotton cloth over her bare shoulders. It felt nice and odd. No lover had ever bathed her. She liked it, but it made her feel vulnerable in a way she was unsure of.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered, “and tilt your head back, and don’t make me get stern with you.”
Part of her wanted to resist just to see what he would do, but the part of her that was loving being touched obeyed.
His warm lips kissed her eyelids, first one and then the other, while at the same time, his rough, masculine hands stroked the washcloth along her exposed throat.
Her senses absorbed it all. The aromas of lavender, vanilla, heat, soap, and man. The sound of Jake’s low, deep voice humming “Crazy Love.”
She bit her bottom lip, blinked away the tears pushing against the backs of her eyelids.
Nothing to be sad about.
She was alive and in the bath with a world-class major league professional baseball player, the most incredibly tender tough guy ever to crash her corner of the world. It was too unbelievable.
The washcloth dropped to her breasts and his fingers went to her neck muscles. “You are so tense, sweetheart.” He breathed against her ear. “When was the last time you had a good massage?”
“I don’t—” She swallowed. “Please, stop that.”
“Stop this?” he asked, his voice husky, as he gently dug into a knot below her shoulder blade. “Or this?” He nibbled the nape of her neck with his nimble tongue until she puddled into mindlessness.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please what?”
“Please stop.”
“Why, babe?” His voice was a velvet purr.
She tensed underneath his fingers. “It makes me uncomfortable.”
“Why?”
“Massages are …” She couldn’t put it into words. One, because his hand was so distracting she could barely knit two thoughts together. And two, she didn’t know why having someone massage her made her uncomfortable, it just did.
“Relax. Let me take care of you.”
See. That was just it. Helpless. Having someone take care of her made her feel helpless.
She wriggled away from him, scooted toward the water faucet, surrounded by bubbles, and she managed to draw an orienting breath now that he was no longer touching her.
“There,” she said, turned back around to face him to keep him from giving her a massage. “That’s better.”
He looked a little hurt. Guilt knotted up against her chest. He’d been trying to do something nice for her and she’d spoiled it.
“Let me give you a massage,” she offered. “Doesn’t that sound better?”
“What is it you don’t like about massages? I know it’s not the touching that bothers you. You are so damn responsive.”
Yeah, she knew. That was kind of the problem. Every time he touched her, she lost control.
“Ah,” he said. “You always have to be in charge.”
She lifted a shoulder. Shrugged. Maybe.
He shifted, sat up straighter in the tub, soap bubbles clinging to his chest, looked at her with such pity he might as well have kicked her in the chest. “Don’t you ever get tired?”
Up went her chin. Go ahead. Give me the sad eyes. I can handle it. “Tired of what?”
“Always having to take care of everyone. Never letting anyone take care of you.”
“Who says I don’t let people take care of me?”
“Kasha for one. Your mother for another.”
“You’ve been talking to my mother?”
“At the wedding shower.”
“Oh God.�
� She drew up her legs, dropped her forehead to her knees.
“You don’t have to hold on to life with a death grip.” His voice was so soft, gentle. “You can’t force things to be the way you want them to be. I know. I’ve tried.”
“Why is being in control a bad thing? And don’t you dare pity me.”
He shook his head. “You’re missing out on so much.”
She was irritated now. Defensive. He had no idea the things she’d been through. The challenges she’d had to overcome to get where she was today. Who was he to tell her she led a sad life? “What the hell does that even mean?”
“No judgment, Jodi.” He raised his palms. “We all have our strengths and weaknesses. But if you always have to be running things, you never get to sit back and enjoy the show.”
“Relax, relax, relax. If I did things your way and I’d never get anything done. How do you think I renovated boxcars and had started my own B&B by the time I was twenty? I can tell you that it wasn’t because I relaxed.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“I have a fine life!” Her cheeks burned. She knotted her hands in the water. Why was she getting so worked up?
“I never said you didn’t. I just wanted to give you a massage. Do something nice for you. I never meant to start a firestorm.”
She sat there feeling out of sorts and wondering why she’d made a big thing of this. Why couldn’t she just let him massage her? What was wrong with her? Most women would fall over themselves to have Jake Coronado give them a rubdown.
“Jodi?” He stroked her forearm.
It felt so good to be touched. She didn’t pull away, even though she probably should.
“Why are you so afraid to let go?”
She wrapped her arms around her knees, broke contact with him. Breathed. “Because if I let go, I could fall.”
“That’s right. What’s wrong with falling? That’s how babies learn how to walk. They pull up, fall, take a few steps, fall.”
“Who are you to lecture me on letting go? You still own a house you bought with a woman who died three years ago. And you have a locked door in your house you won’t let people look behind.”
Boom! Dropped a bomb on you, baby.
And she could kick herself for it. The guy had lost his wife, for heaven’s sake. Why was she lashing out at him when he was only trying to help? He was right too. Her obsessive need to control her environment was her biggest flaw.
He blinked, and took her retort like the man he was. His expression didn’t change, nor did his calm tone of voice. “That’s precisely why I’m talking to you about it. Because I’ve walked that road and I know how lonely it is when you won’t let others help you. I’m here right now to let go of my past. I was hoping you’d want to join me.”
They stared at each other, nothing breaking the silence except the gurgle of jetted bubbles.
She moistened her lips. Not knowing what to say. The water was growing cold and the skin on her fingers and toes was starting to shrivel. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“Yes, I did. I was being hypocritical. Telling you to let go when I’m still hanging on too, but I’m working on it. I’m working really hard.”
“I know,” she said. “And I respect you for it.”
From the mp3 player the instrumental composition “Fate and Destiny” bled into the small room, rippled over the water. “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life,” he said, “but it seems to me you’re going to eventually crash and burn if you don’t learn how to take it easy once in a while.”
“Don’t you get it?” she cried, surprised at how anguished she sounded. “I can’t take it easy! I don’t know how!”
Her words broke, spun off into silence.
She could tell that he wanted to touch her again, comfort her in some way, but he did not.
Finally, he asked, “Why not?”
Her nose twitched and she pressed her eyes against her damp knees, saw brilliant yellow stars burst on the backs of her eyelids. “I’m afraid that if I take it easy,” she mumbled, “the world will fall apart.”
He tentatively stroked her hair.
Oh, how she wanted to bury her head against his shoulder and let the pleasure of sex take away all her pain.
“So, you’re responsible for the whole world?”
It sounded stupid when he put it like that, but yeah, she felt as if it weren’t for her efforts to keep things on track, her world would fall apart. “Yes.”
“Wow,” he said. “What’s it like to have that kind of power?”
She raised her head, shot him a dirty look. “You’re poking fun at me.”
“I’m not. I’m just impressed that the weight of the entire world rests on those two slender shoulders.”
Her chin wobbled. No. She was not going to cry.
“It’s okay, Jodi. It’s okay to let go. No one is going to judge you for being human. I’m not going to judge you for being human.”
“You don’t get it,” she said, puffing her cheeks out forcefully to keep from crying.
“So tell me. Help me to understand.”
Dammit. She didn’t want to cry. Her nose burned and her eyes burned and she blinked hard and fast.
“You asked me once why boxcars,” she said, fiddling with the charm bracelet at her wrist. “But I wasn’t ready to tell you then.”
“I’m listening,” he soothed. “I hear you. Talk to me.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. This was not easy for her. She paused. Moistened her lips.
He waited.
Okay. She could do this. “Until I was four I was raised in the worst part of Stardust near the train yard. I was literally from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“Like Rowdy,” he said.
“Yes. We were from the same neighborhood. Ham too. He was my next-door neighbor when were we kids. We were born in the same hospital on the same day. He’s like my brother.”
“The boxcars remind you of where you came from,” he guessed.
“No,” she said. “The boxcars remind me of who I am. When you grow up beside the train tracks the rumble is part of you. The tracks are security. They can take you away and bring you back home. But they don’t move. They’re always there. The tracks are something you can count on. They never let you down.” She fingered the bracelet again. “That’s why this gift meant so much to me. In essence, you gave me myself.”
“Wow, that’s deep. I had no idea boxcars carried that much symbolism for you.”
She gave him a half smile. It was the best she could manage right now. “You get credit for it all the same.”
“What happened when you were four?” he asked.
Jodi gulped and then slowly told him what it was like growing up with a drug addict mom and no close relatives she could count on. To never know her biological father’s identity. To go into foster care. Even if it was with the best family in the world, it was still terrifying to be pulled from everything she’d ever known and plunked down with strangers. To be left alone in a house for days at a time with nothing to eat but Cheerios and orange juice.
“That’s why you hate Cheerios.”
She nodded, felt her lip tremble, felt herself losing control over her tears.
“Aww, sweetheart, that’s terrible. No child should ever have to go through that.” His voice was husky.
“At least I ended up with the Carlyles and they loved and adopted me. Things could have taken a really dark turn if they hadn’t come into my life.”
His thumb stroked the back of her hand, strong, reassuring. She thought she’d resent him for being witness to her breakdown, but instead, she was grateful for his touch. Loved the way he looked at her with strength and kindness.
Loved him for being here with her.
Even loved him for pushing her to let go. She resisted being pushed, but she felt as if she was perched high on a mountaintop and he was standing below her, ready to catch her when she fell.
>
And he would catch her. All she had to do was jump and he’d be there.
At least that’s what his eyes promised.
But she’d heard promises like that before—from her biological mother, from Ryan. Even to a lesser degree from Maggie and Dan. Her adoptive parents promised her she would be safe and loved when they adopted her and she had been, but she’d also had a baby sister with a serious illness. A sister she loved with all her heart. A sister who could die as easily as not. Breeanne’s illness caused Jodi to feel unstable too.
“I’m sorry for everything you went through as a little kid,” he said. “I can’t imagine it. The worst thing that happened to me as a kid was my parents’ divorce, but they were both stable, loving, and tried to do what was best for us kids. Even though they weren’t together, I always had support.”
She wiped the back of her hand over her face wet with tears. Damn, damn, damn. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. She was fine. Better than fine. She’d survived. Thrived. Made a good life for herself.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Now let’s get out of here before we turn into prunes.”
He helped her from the tub, and gently toweled her off.
She didn’t protest, just stood looking down at his dark head and strong back as he dried her legs. When he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to bed, Jodi surrendered, let go, gave herself up to him completely.
As he bent to lay her down on the mattress, he pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered so softly she wasn’t even sure she heard him. “You’re not going to fall, sweetheart. Never again, because I’m here now and I’ve got you.”
CHAPTER 20
Jodi Carlyle’s Wedding Crasher Rules: You’re from out of
town, always.
Jake laid Jodi down on the bed, the towel falling just below the jutting peaks of her gorgeous pink nipples, and he salivated.
Did she have any earthly idea how freaking beautiful she was? From the innocent smile she was giving him, no. No, she did not.
Water dripped from his damp hair to his chin, dropped like beads to his chest. Watching her breasts rise and fall as she pulled in jerky breaths, her eyes fixed on him, made him feel like a randy bull in a pasture ready to knock down anything in his path to get to the object of his desire.