by M. S. Parker
“Jas.” I reached out and put my hand on his cheek. When my thumb brushed against his bottom lip, he sucked in a breath. “Stop talking.”
He swallowed hard and I could feel the tension in his body.
“You said that you wanted to take care of me.” My heart was racing, but I knew that only part of it was from nerves.
“Yes.”
I leaned forward until my lips barely brushed against his. “Then take care of me.”
“Shae,” he groaned my name, but didn’t move.
“Unless you don’t want...” I started to pull back, wondering if it was possible I’d misread him.
He surged forward, cutting off the rest of what I’d planned on saying. Whatever those words had been flew out of my head as his mouth covered mine. He buried his fingers in my hair, his teeth scraping at my bottom lip. He parted my lips, his tongue curling around mine. There was none of the hesitation from last night. He claimed my mouth with a need that made my entire body glow.
My head fell back as he kissed his way down my neck. Then his hands were pushing aside my robe, fingers leaving trails of heat across my skin. My nipples hardened as the cool air caressed me and I shivered. Then his mouth was on me, hot and wet as his tongue teased my nipple. My back arched as pleasure went straight through me.
Everything I’d been feeling, worrying about, all of it disappeared. I knew it’d be back, but for right now, it was gone. All I felt was the heat of Jasper’s mouth and hands, the feel of his skin sliding over mine. All I knew was that I loved the way he made me feel.
He released my nipple and kissed his way down my stomach until he was pulling my legs over his shoulders and leaning down to press his mouth against me. I let out a sound halfway between a wail and a moan as his tongue moved over my pussy. His fingers tightened on my hips, holding me still as he kissed me with the same possessive enthusiasm he’d used on my mouth earlier.
“Jas,” I called out his name as I came for the first time. He slid his fingers inside me even as my body was still spasming. I made a half-strangled sound as he began to thrust them in a slow and steady rhythm.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured. He flicked out his tongue against my clit. “Come for me again.”
“Jas,” I breathed his name this time. His name. A surreal feeling washed over me and I expected guilt to follow. Guilt that his name came so easily to my lips.
But I didn’t feel guilty. I just felt glad that he was here. Happy that this man hadn’t left me. That he cared about me.
“Just breathe.” He pressed his lips against the inside of my thigh. “Let go, Shae. I’ve got you.”
He curled his fingers, easily finding that spot inside me. My back arched as he pressed against it and white spots danced behind my eyes.
“I’ve got you, baby.”
He sucked my clit into his mouth even as he rubbed the tips of his fingers against me. I buried my hand in his hair as my body tightened with another orgasm. I cried out as I came, writhing against his hand and mouth as he kept working me through a climax that left every inch of me throbbing.
My head was still spinning when he picked me up. My arms went around his neck and I rested my head on his chest. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of him, the smell of antiseptic from work, of his laundry detergent and fabric softener. The scent that was simply Jasper.
A lump formed in my throat as I realized I couldn’t remember what Allen had smelled like. I knew the detergent, the fabric softener. I knew the smell of the vineyard. But I couldn’t remember the part that was just him.
I turned my face away as Jasper placed me on my bed. I didn’t want him to see the tears and think he’d caused them. The lighting was dim enough that I thought it would work, but I hadn’t realized how much he truly saw.
“Shae.” Jasper’s voice was soft as he cupped my chin and turned my face back towards him.
I hadn’t realized I’d started crying until I felt him wiping away my tears. And then he was gathering me into his arms, pulling me back against his chest. He tucked my robe more tightly around me and pressed his lips against my temple.
“I’m sorry, Shae.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I sniffled.
“Then what is it?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk about it. Not with him.
“It’s okay, Shae.” His hand slid beneath my robe to rest on my stomach. There was nothing sexual about his touch now, only comfort. “You can talk to me about anything.” His fingers made soothing circles on my stomach. “Even Allen. It’s okay.”
“I don’t want to talk right now.” I twisted my head around so I could see him. “Please, Jasper.”
“Whatever you want.” He tucked some hair behind my ear. “I’m here.”
I turned in his arms and put my hand on his face. The stubble on his cheek was rough against my palm. I didn’t know what this thing was between us, or even if I wanted to define it, but there was one thing I needed to be clear about.
“I want you.” I slid my hand down his chest and cupped him. He was so hard that it had to be painful, and yet I knew he’d walk away if I asked him to.
“Are you sure?” The words were strained.
I didn’t bother with an answer. Not a verbal one anyway. I unzipped his pants and slipped my hand inside. His long eyelashes fluttered as I wrapped my fingers around him. Heat spread through me and I began to stroke him. He swelled even more under my touch and my stomach twisted. I hadn’t realized just how much I wanted him until now.
I hooked my leg over his waist, shifting until the tip of his cock brushed against me.
“Shae,” he groaned my name as he put his hands on my shoulders. “We need...”
I shook my head. “No. It’s okay.” I slid the head inside me and we both moaned. “Please.”
His lips found mine. “Anything,” he breathed the word before he kissed me.
He pushed his hips up, burying himself inside me. I was still wet from what he’d done before and he slid into me easily. I clutched him to me as our bodies moved together. The kiss became hard and fierce, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip. The base of his cock rubbed against my clit, sending near-painful shivers of sensation through me. I whimpered, biting down on his lip.
Jasper made a sound low in his throat and then he was flipping us, driving hard and deep into me until I exploded. My nails dug into the back of his shirt, clawing at the material. He pressed his face against the side of my neck, teeth worrying at the skin until I knew he was leaving a mark. I didn’t care though. I just wanted him.
And then he was coming too, his cock pulsing and emptying inside me.
At some point, we disentangled and cleaned up, but Jasper didn’t say that he needed to go, and I didn’t ask him to stay. Instead, we slid under the covers and he wrapped his arms around me, neither of us having to say a word to know that we both needed to be held.
Finally, I broke the silence. “I can’t accept the money, Jas.”
“It’s okay.” He pulled me tighter to him.
We were both naked and the feel of his skin against mine warmed me in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. And it wasn’t sex either, at least not right now. He warmed something inside me that had been frozen since Allen died.
“I don’t want to do that to you,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter, Shae. I’ll get the money for the clinic some other way. I’ve been saving for it. I’ll just keep on that plan.” He kissed the spot under my ear that made me shiver. “You do whatever you need to do.”
We fell silent again. My fingers traced patterns on his arm and I just let myself relax. Relax into his embrace, into his body. I could feel his heartbeat against my back, feel him breathing.
“I wish I hadn’t thrown away my pictures,” I spoke softly, not really expecting an answer.
“You didn’t,” he murmured. His voice was thick with sleep. “I put them in my car. But most of your frames were fucked.” He kissed
my temple. “It’s all okay.”
“You saved my pictures?” I looked over my shoulder, but Jasper’s face was turned away. I waited for a moment, listening. He was asleep.
He’d saved my pictures. I put my hands on his, tracing each long, strong finger. I’d had these fingers inside me, pleasuring me, and I’d had them gentle and healing on me. He was so many things I’d never expected. How had I not seen this side of him before?
I pushed away all of the confusing thoughts that were threatening to crowd in and ruin this. I wasn’t going to read too much into things, wasn’t going to start wondering what this meant. I didn’t need to analyze whatever this was. If Jasper wasn’t asking me to define what we were, I didn’t need to press the issue myself. I needed to just let things be right now. No pressure. I needed one thing in my life that wasn’t complex, wasn’t complicated. I needed something easy and reassuring.
Jasper was that. He didn’t try to make me think about things. He just made me feel. Feel something other than anger and hurt. He made me feel alive and made me forget everything else. He was here for me, and I never wanted to lose that. I never wanted to lose him.
I swallowed hard at the realization. I’d never expected him to mean so much to me, but there it was. It was probably crazy and way too soon. It was probably a horrible idea.
But it was too late. We could slow things down, but what had happened between us over the last two days changed everything.
I just hoped it would be for the better.
Chapter 4
It was a strange thing, going from friends to lovers, or at least it should’ve been. With Jasper though, it felt natural. He woke up next to me on Sunday morning and it wasn’t weird. Maybe it was because he didn’t let it get that way. He didn’t rush out or try to snuggle closer. Instead, he climbed out of bed, pulled on the clothes he’d discarded at some point during the night and went into the bathroom.
After that, he made me breakfast. Like a for-real breakfast of pancakes and bacon and scrambled eggs. After breakfast, he helped me bring in the pictures from his car and salvage what frames I could. We talked, but not about what us having slept together – again – meant, but I didn’t feel like we needed to talk about it. Whatever this was between us was good, and if not defining it meant it stayed good, then I was going to let things be.
Then it was Sunday evening and we both knew that he had to go home. It had been nice having him at the house, but he didn’t live here and asking him to stay another night would lead to a place I wasn’t sure either of us were ready to go. So I didn’t ask him to stay. And he didn’t offer. What he did do was remind me that if I needed anything, he was there for me to call.
When I went back in to work on Monday morning, I actually felt better than I had in a while. Now, when I thought about Allen’s letter, I could almost see why he’d done it. It still hurt, of course, but there was something different when I thought about it now. I could see what Jasper meant about Allen not wanting me to see him like that. I could understand it on an intellectual level, and for now, that was enough to keep me sane.
It was a typical day at school and I hoped that meant things were going to be typical, normal, from here on out. Sure, there was still the hearing about Allen’s trust and figuring out what I was going to do about the insurance money, but I hoped this was the point where things would turn around and my life would start getting back on track.
I didn’t know how I could be so stupid.
It took all of an hour after getting home from school for me to see that things weren’t going to be normal, maybe not ever again.
Mixed in with the rest of my mail was a plain white envelope with my last name scribbled on it. No address, nothing else.
I should’ve just thrown it away with the rest of the junk mail. I should’ve left it alone. I didn’t need to open it because I knew it wasn’t going to be anything nice. Nothing nice ever came in a relatively blank envelope.
But I opened it anyway.
It was short and to the point, brutal in its content and delivery. I was glad I was sitting down when I started to read it because if I hadn’t been, I would’ve ended up on my ass.
Allen Lockwood wasn’t a good man. He was a liar and a bastard. The world is a better place without him.
I read it three times, each time hoping that it would somehow say something different. That those horrible words would somehow be changed into something that reflected the man I’d known. Yes, he’d lied to me about being sick and what he’d done had been awful, but as much as his actions pained me, I knew they’d been done out of love. No matter how angry I was at him, I couldn’t imagine the world being better off for him having died. He hadn’t been perfect, but he’d been a good man.
Who would send a letter like this to someone’s widow? It was impossibly cruel.
Once I’d recovered enough to start thinking, the Lockwoods were the first people to pop into my mind. Maybe they thought if I was upset enough, I’d want to get away from any place that reminded me of Allen and I’d either give or sell them the vineyard. After all, the letter hadn’t come right away. Allen had been gone for nearly four months. Why else would whoever this was wait so long before sending it?
I didn’t have proof though. There was no postage on the envelope, which only meant that it hadn’t been mailed. The Lockwoods had enough contacts in St. Helena that delivering a letter wouldn’t be a big deal, especially since I wouldn’t be around to catch anyone doing it.
If I’d thought it’d do any good, I would’ve taken it to the police so they could test it for fingerprints or DNA or whatever else they could find with their various toys. I knew, however, that no one would care. It wasn’t a threat on my life or even against my property. Nothing that could even be interpreted as intimidation. There was no law against being mean and therefore no reason to run expensive tests.
I could have argued that the person who’d written it could’ve been involved in the arson, but based on the way I’d been treated during the investigation into Allen’s death, I didn’t trust the St. Helena Police Department to take anything I said seriously, especially since the lead detectives in both cases were the same. Detective Reed didn’t even try to hide his low opinion of me and even the “good cop” of the two, Detective Rheingard, most likely believed that I’d had something to do with either Allen’s death or the fire, perhaps even both, but he was at least polite about it.
I wanted to crumple it into a ball and throw it away. Tear it into tiny pieces and burn it. I also wanted to hit something, so I knew that giving in to any impulses I currently had would be a bad idea. I carefully folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. I didn’t want it out where I could see it though. It was going to be hard enough to get those words out of my head. I didn’t need them coming back to me every time I saw the envelope. I went to the office and tucked the letter into one of the desk drawers where I wouldn’t accidentally throw it away. It would be available if I needed it for some reason.
I took a slow breath and counted to ten. I couldn’t let this letter get me off track. I had some curriculum to look over to see if I wanted to change books the next year. I also had to go over the schedule Jacques Rohner – the foreman at the vineyard – had sent over. The harvest was approaching fast and, as always, it would be a race between ripening and the frost. Between that and the arson, we’d had to take on extra hands to keep an eye on the crop around the clock. I trusted Jacque implicitly and would never have dreamed of telling him to make changes to the way he did things, but he insisted on having me go over anything that required money or had to do with people being on my property.
I had enough on my mind that I didn’t need one more thing to worry about. As I headed into the kitchen to get something out to thaw for dinner, I pushed all thoughts of the letter and its author from my mind. I was pleasantly surprised at how well it worked and I didn’t think about the letter again until two days later.
The landline was ringing as soon a
s I walked into the house Wednesday afternoon. I didn’t rush to answer it, assuming it was someone from Allen’s family. They were the only ones who called that number anymore. It could’ve been one of the few former clients I hadn’t bothered to contact after the accident, but I didn’t really want to talk to them either, so I let it go to the answering machine.
I felt a pang as Allen’s voice filled the air.
“You have reached Allen and Shae Lockwood. We’re unable to come to the phone at this time. Please leave your name, number and a brief message and we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
It was the same trite greeting that most answering machines or voicemails had, but it made me smile. That was pure Allen, concise and polite, no matter how ordinary something sounded. We’d sometimes joked that if Allen hadn’t kept on his uncle’s marketing team, he would’ve sold bottles with just “Red Wine” on the label.
I frowned as a full minute passed after the beep with no one speaking. We’d had sales calls on the house phone, but never an obscene phone call. I wondered if this was going to be the first. I wasn’t worried about it though. Most of those perverts did it to get a rise out of people, so they wouldn’t get much of anything out of a call like this. Maybe they’d get off thinking about someone listening to it, but that seemed a bit far-fetched.
“Mrs. Lockwood.”
The voice was raspy, impossible to tell if it belonged to a male or female. What it did do, however, was make all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“I know you’re there.”
Another pause, as if waiting for me to admit that I was home and go pick up the phone.
“No matter. I know you’re listening.”
I shivered, suddenly feeling like someone was watching me.
“Your husband wasn’t who you thought he was.”
Every muscle in my body tensed. The person who’d written the letter. I knew it had to be the same person. It couldn’t be a coincidence.