by BETH KERY
• • •
After they’d played around on the Jet Ski in the bright sunshine for another hour or so, and Harper had become a competent driver of it, she told him she was starving. It was past time for them to head in, anyway, Jacob realized. Harper’s cheeks, nose, and chest were pink from the sun, and as they’d gotten off the Jet Ski, he’d noticed that her eyelids looked heavy.
They showered off on the outdoor shower enclosure and made their way to the galley. There, they investigated the contents of the picnic hamper that Lisa had prepared for them. They settled on freshly made salmon and California rolls along with a banana-and-mango salsa. They ate on the foredeck of the boat in the shade. By the time Harper had eaten their early supper and drank a half glass of white wine, she was having difficulty keeping her eyelids open. He was glad she was so relaxed. She looked happy, and that gratified him. He’d wanted that, for her to feel secure and carefree. He knew she was having second thoughts about the wisdom of going deeper with him.
True, he had his own doubts about his wisdom in demanding more from her. But he despised seeing Harper anxious about him . . . about them. And despite his concerns, both for himself and for her well-being, he was selfish. He wanted her wholesale.
“Come on,” he said presently, standing from the high-top table and reaching for her hand.
“Where are we going?” she asked, blinking and forcing her eyelids open.
“I’m taking you to bed.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly looking more alert, the pink, full lips that had been torturing him all day curving into a smile.
“To take a nap. You look wrung out.” He gave a bark of laughter at her scowl.
“I didn’t know this was here,” she said from behind him a moment later when he’d led her downstairs and opened the door to a bedroom suite.
“Bathroom is through there.” He pointed at a door. He flipped back the comforter and the sheet on the large bed and waved her toward him. He forced his face into impassivity as he removed the pretty, sexy blue bikini she wore, the one that matched both her eyes and the shimmering alpine lake, and molded her body in a way that had made him fantasize repeatedly all afternoon, primarily about two topics: either burying his face in between the glory of her high, full breasts or the heaven between her thighs.
He jerked his gaze away from her pale, exposed breasts now, urging her toward the bed.
“You’re not getting in with me?” she asked as he pulled the sheet up over her naked body, and then the duvet. She’d definitely gotten sun today, and she looked like a sexy, sweet decadence against the dark gray sheets.
“I’m not tired,” he said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I’m going to take the boat up the coast a bit and position us for the fireworks.”
“You mean the ones that you sponsor every year?”
“Who told you about that?” Her hair had mostly dried as they’d eaten their meal. He pushed some copper strands off her temple and smoothed them away from her face.
“Jim mentioned it the other night. But it’s common knowledge, isn’t it? That you sponsor the Labor Day fireworks for Tahoe Shores? I hope it is, because it was mentioned in an article we did for the holiday weekend version of the Gazette,” she added wryly.
“I guess it is generally known, yeah. The city council couldn’t make a secret of it.”
“You’re nicer than you want people to think you are.”
He paused in stroking her.
“I don’t care if people think I’m nice or a troll.”
“Liar. You’re a good person, and it bugs you when people assume otherwise,” she mumbled. A poignant feeling of longing went through him. Her utter confidence in him reminded him of the Harper of old. He wanted to believe her like he had when he was a kid, but his innocence was lost. He’d sacrificed it to become Jacob Latimer.
Since he couldn’t agree, he just caressed her silently for a moment. He loved to see her reaction to his touch. He always had, even when they were kids. It was fresh, immediate evidence that he meant something to her. Her reaction at the moment was for her eyelids to drift closed. Despite her obvious contentment, he found he couldn’t stop himself from setting something straight with her right then and there.
“Harper, honey?”
“Yeah?” she asked, her eyelids rising a fraction of an inch with apparent effort. The sun had really gotten to her. He was going to demand a lot of her later. That’s why he wanted to make sure she was rested.
“When we were on the diving board earlier, before we jumped?”
“Mmm-hmm”
“You called me Jake.”
Her eyelids snapped open wider.
“I . . . I did?”
He nodded, closely studying her reaction. Unlike on other occasions when he’d cautiously tested her, he thought he’d seen a flash of anxiety in her eyes.
“Why did you call me that?” he asked tensely.
“I don’t know,” she whispered warily. “Why? Is it a big deal? Jake is short for Jacob—”
“No one calls me that.”
She winced at his sharpness, and he cringed inwardly. She nodded in agreement. “Okay, I won’t anymore, then.”
“No,” he bit out. Recognizing how unreasonable he was being, he leaned down and kissed her brow, trying to smooth his uncertainty and confusion. He spoke quietly near her ear, like he was imparting a secret. “You can. If you want to, I mean.”
He stood and turned away so that she couldn’t see his irritation at his abrupt, irrational change of mind.
thirty-two
Twenty Years Ago
She awoke to the feeling of Jake’s hand in her hair and the sound of gentle rain falling. She opened her eyes and saw the cave cast in the deep, gray gloom of early dawn. Memories shot through her, horrifying recollections of the mountain lion’s screams rolling off the walls of the cave, of how the predator had stalked them all through the night like a living nightmare.
Sweet memories of the boy holding her and containing her fear also crowded her brain.
“Jake?”
“I’m right here,” he said, and again, he stroked her hair.
Her eyes clamped shut at the sound of his reassuring drawl. His voice and his embrace had become her touchstone during that terrifying, seemingly never-ending night. Several times, she’d felt her very being fraying and splintering upon hearing the shrieks of the mountain lion resounding so close to them, sensing the animal’s feral hunger and imagining its sharp, white teeth. Then Jake would speak to her in that even tone of his, prompting her to tell him more about Lord of the Rings, or reassuring her that they didn’t have long now.
“Dawn’ll be here soon. He’ll go then. You can bet on it.”
She sat up abruptly, breaking contact with his warm body. A jolt of panic went through her when she saw the dying embers of their fire. Those flames had come to mean safety to her, and life.
The fire had . . . and Jake.
“It’s gone?” she asked turning toward him, her eyes wide. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep in the middle of so much terror. It was a testament to how much she’d come to trust Jake Tharp.
She made out his outline in the semidarkness: his scraggly, longish dark blond hair and shoulders. She knew from firsthand knowledge that his hair was thick and soft and that his shoulders, though narrow, were stronger than she would ever have imagined.
Just like the rest of him was.
“It gave up about a half hour before dawn,” he said. She watched him as he stood. He was slight and young, but she had the impression he was about eighty years old in that moment. Not only because he always came off as being wiser and more patient than anybody she’d ever known, but because he moved like an old man as he stood from the hard cave floor.
“You held me all night,” she said regretfully as she rushed to her feet.
He hadn’t moved positions since they’d first known where the mountain lion was and put the fire between it and themselves. “You must be so stiff.”
“No, just—”
She hugged him impulsively, inhaling the smell of soap from his long, unruly hair. He’d told her yesterday while they’d talked all day in the cave that Emmitt grudgingly would give him money for a haircut every year when school started, but that it grew faster than weeds during a wet season. Grandma Rose used to cut it for him when she was better, but lately, he’d taken to cutting it himself. He’d looked a little embarrassed when he’d admitted that. He’d also said that he wasn’t any good at it, so this summer, he’d just let it grow wild.
Harper experienced a surge of emotion thinking about the boy she held in her arms at that moment, his courage, and his kindness . . . and everything he’d given up for her. Her eyes burned. She didn’t know how to thank him, though. What she felt was too big to squeeze out of the fullness in her chest and through her narrow throat. She delved her fingers into his soft, thick hair instead.
“I’ll cut your hair later. You have some scissors on that fancy knife thing you have,” she said through a congested throat. His arms closed around her. He’d sensed her ragged state. She clamped her eyelids shut even tighter, a strange mixture of guilt and relief going through her at his unselfish embrace.
“That’s okay, Harper.” It wasn’t fair that such a young kid was forced to sound that grown-up . . . so wise, so tired, at age thirteen.
“I want to,” burst out of her throat. “You saved us. You took care of me all night, and kept me from freaking out and everything. I want to do something for you.” Because both of us know I haven’t got much to give you in return.
She let go of him abruptly, stepping out of the circle of his arms. She quickly swiped at her damp cheeks and attempted a smile. “I’ll cut your hair, okay?” she repeated brightly when she’d composed herself.
“Yeah. Okay.”
She was eager to get past her rush of gratitude and embarrassing show of emotion. Jake looked really uncomfortable.
“Can we do the cliff jump again?” she asked him, kneeling to help him scoop some dirt and ash onto the fire. There was just enough light entering the cave now that she could make out the shine of his eyes when he met her stare.
“No. We can’t take the chance that the mountain lion won’t come back tonight. We have to go. Besides, it’s raining out right now, and it’s a good steady one. The rain will help to cover our tracks. I’ve got an old camp tarp stored here. We’ll wrap what we can in it, keep our stuff protected from the rain. We’re leaving for Barterton as soon as we get packed up.”
Present Day
Harper’s eyes flew open at the sound of footsteps. She turned over in the soft sheets. There was a wide chest of drawers just across from the bed and a long mirror hung above it. In the reflection, she saw her long, mussed hair and sunburned, damp cheeks. She wiped at her face at the realization, amazed to feel tears on her fingertips. Whatever she’d been dreaming about had made her cry, she realized in wonderment. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull any details of her dream from her brain. Only a sense of poignant sweetness and sadness remained.
She sensed the subtle movement of the boat. They were anchored. Had Jacob moved the boat while she slept, as he’d said he would? She didn’t recall a bit of it. The yacht was large enough that waves didn’t rock it much, but there was still a subtle bobbing motion that she found soothing. She could tell by the color and slant of the sunlight coming through the window that she’d slept for over an hour, and that evening had fallen. When she pushed back the comforter, she saw Jacob standing in the open doorway, his hands braced at the top of frame.
“Hi,” she greeted him, propping herself up on the pillows but never ungluing her gaze from the sight of him. She’d never been happier to see him. He’d changed into a pair of dark blue shorts, but he wasn’t wearing anything else. His smooth skin had grown a shade darker in the sunshine today. There was a shadow of stubble on his jaw, and his burnished hair looked windblown. She drank in the sight of him thirstily.
“I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all night,” he said, stepping into the bedroom suite. His brows arched as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“You look so relaxed standing there in the doorway. So nice,” she replied. She reached out to touch his hard midriff. His taut abdomen muscles jumped slightly at her touch. She ran a fingertip down the silky trail of brown hair that led from below his belly button down below his shorts. “I was just thinking when I woke up . . .”
“What?” he asked when she faded off.
She swallowed, and shook her head slightly. Sleep and her dreams still clung heavily to her. “Have you ever noticed that some of the worst, scariest things that ever happened to you in your life were also the best?”
He caught the wrist of her stroking hand and squeezed gently. She looked up at him.
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, curling up on her side beneath the sheet, all too aware of his sharp gaze on her. “I just woke up thinking that.”
He put his hand on her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. Her heart jumped when she saw his tense expression. He leaned down over her.
“Do you really believe that, Harper? That the good things can be mixed up so closely with the bad?”
“Yes. I think so,” she whispered, her heartbeat starting to pound in her ears at his intensity.
“Is that what you think it’s like, to be with me? Scary?”
“A little, yeah,” she whispered, staring into his hypnotic eyes. “But it’s wonderful, too. So much so that I would never want to give up the beautiful part, because of the fear.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you about us being together more.”
“I know. I know it is,” she whispered emphatically, reaching up to touch his mussed hair. She dragged her fingers through it, loving the sensation against her skin.
He straightened and her hand fell away from him.
“I’m not going to let you push me out because you’re afraid, Harper.”
“No. I don’t want you to.”
His face looked achingly sober and beautiful when he reached for the edge of the sheet. Slowly and deliberately, he drew it down to below her thighs. He opened his hand along her hip and caressed the side of her naked body, then her ribs and belly. Her breath stuck in her lungs at the expression on his face . . . at a touch that she could only call worshipful. He caressed her thigh and then opened his hand over her outer sex, lightly rubbing her. Warm, achy arousal flooded through her. She felt it again, that sense of being cherished.
Possessed.
“Turn over,” he directed huskily. “Stretch your arms over your head.”
She did what he asked, pressing her cheek to the pillow, her arms above her head. That increasingly familiar, full feeling had swelled in her chest. He swept her unbound hair over one shoulder, baring her completely. Pleasure unfurled inside her as he began to caress her . . .
As he silently owned her.
He traced the lines of her shoulders and her spine. He touched the back of her knees and her thighs, and cupped her buttocks gently in his palms.
“Spread your thighs,” he said, and she did, feeling the cool air tickle at her damp sex. She held her breath. When he did penetrate her with his finger, air flew out of her lungs. She lay there as he stroked her, drowning in sensual pleasure and mounting excitement. Soft moans vibrated her throat as he took her higher. Just when her body began to tense, he withdrew his finger and used both hands to part her buttocks. Her ass clenched tight at the unexpected exposure. She waited, her body subtly vibrating with arousal.
He lightly brushed a fingertip over her anus. She whimpered s
oftly.
“I want you everywhere, Harper,” he said gruffly from behind her. “I want to know you’d allow it. I need it. For me. Do you think that’s selfish?”
She couldn’t draw air. The moment felt almost unbearably intimate. He continued to spread her ass cheeks, making her entire sex, perineum, and anus tingle beneath his stare. Not for the first time with him, she experienced that potent sharp feeling of arousal at the idea of him taking control, of him finding so much pleasure and release in her body. She thought of how he always gave her so much in return . . . of how strangely safe she felt with him.
“Maybe. But then . . . I like when you’re selfish sometimes.” And your selfishness isn’t like any selfishness I’ve ever known.
He grunted softly and again ran a blunt fingertip between the crack of her ass, caressing her softly. She tensed in excited trepidation.
“Then I’m going to tie up your wrists and put a dildo in you. Get you ready. Then I’m going to use a spreader bar on you. And I’m going to have you.”
Her sex clenched tight in arousal. She wasn’t entirely sure what he’d meant, except for the certainty that he planned to penetrate her anally. But her excitement was spiked with trepidation.
“Won’t it hurt?”
He released the tension in his hold, ceasing spreading her buttocks wide but still keeping his hands on her ass, rubbing the cheeks tautly.
“You’ve never done it before?”
“No.” She’d never been interested before. With him, it would signify a deeper level of surrender, though. Of possession. That excited her. She found herself craving it, maybe even as greatly as Jacob seemed to hunger for this deeper level of intimacy and surrender with her.
His thumbs dug deep into the muscles of her ass.
“It will hurt for a moment maybe, especially with my cock. I’m going to get you ready, though. If there is pain, it will be over quickly.”