by KH LeMoyne
She waited in silence, hoping he wouldn’t stop. He was holding so much back.
“He was a born disciplinarian. Everything was just so, exacting. Because my mom wanted kids and he didn’t, my father determined that my mother’s time would be best spent raising foster children. A good income and a distraction for her wants.”
The bitterness in his voice chilled her. Briet waited, dread thick in her lungs.
“From the time I can remember we had a stream of kids. One at a time, a lot over the years. They would come. They would stay their time limit, never more than a year. My mother would care for them, enough to develop a strong attachment. Then my father would call social services and have them escorted to their next home. My mother would cry. My father would tell her to toughen up and remind her that she had a child. Then a week later, he’d apply for a new foster child.”
She realized she was holding her breath. When he looked into her eyes, she saw his blank pain. Like a visceral trigger, the memory struck again of her comrade, Xavier, the bleak despair in his eyes at the loss of family, future, and hope.
Jason recounted his mother’s suffering, but the child he had been had watched brothers and sisters cycle through his home and his heart for years. The foster siblings had been there long enough for him to develop attachments, long enough to erode the trust in continuing relationships. Jason’s father had tortured his wife and his child with one ongoing reign of vengeance.
“She must have loved you very much.”
Jason let out a harsh breath. “She did. She was a lot smarter than I realized at the time. I always figured she needed other kids because that’s the way she was. It wasn’t until after she died that I found out she had used those kids, too. I found her diaries in time. He planned to destroy them.” His fingers clenched on the back of the couch. “She figured if she showered too much attention on me then he would take his anger out on us, on me. Somehow breaking her heart over and over was justifiable for protecting me.”
“She was your mother. Her job was to protect you.” She whispered the words because they felt so inadequate. “Maybe she cared for him. But for him to be so cruel…”
“He could have been worse. He came from worse. Her diaries provided some details.” His fingers tapped on the couch. “Bad genes. A hereditary pattern of abuse going back generations. I was actually very lucky. So was she.”
She didn’t know what to say. There was more he wasn’t telling her, something much worse he wasn't ready for her to know. She could wait.
“See, no need for family photos.”
“That doesn’t explain the letters?”
He was silent. For a second, she was afraid she’d pushed beyond his limit. “One of the last to parade through. My father pushed Frank too far one night. I was thirteen and he was seventeen when he bailed on us.”
Bailed on us or bailed on you, Jason? Was he your hope of escape? Briet swallowed hard and dropped her gaze. She understood the need for a brother figure, someone who cared enough to push the threats away. Yet Frank’s care, his concern, had opened a wound so large Jason couldn’t see through past pain to open the door and let him back in.
Given the number of envelopes in the basket, Frank had been knocking for a long time. She was proud of Frank’s persistence and relieved to know Jason had someone else out there who cared with her level of dedication. “He’s been sending you letters all this time?”
Jason looked at her and leaned forward, his thumb wiping at the tears on her cheeks. Tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “It’s just water under the bridge. It’s not like today. Don’t confuse the two. Today was a tragedy. The rest—” He waved a hand toward the basket, “is done.”
She took a slow breath, all the pain, confusion, and loss swelling together. When she reached a hand to him, he stood and pulled her up. “You should get some sleep.”
He tried to move her forward and she resisted. “What if sleep isn’t what I want?”
He looked at her quietly, his eyes shielded in the shadows. “What do you want, Briet?”
Licking her lip, she stroked her hands over his chest. “I want to be in control for once.” The truth, since her life had been out of control for way too long.
His eyes widened, but he moved his hands from her arms and held them out to his side, a curiosity starting to spark on his face. “You want it, then you’re in control.”
She looked at his face and his lips as she stepped forward, sliding her hands up underneath his sweatshirt. Her nails grazed across his chest and nipples, hard planes covered with warm flesh. She felt his breath quicken in response, movements of tension beneath her palms. “Take the shirt off.”
A muscle jerked in his cheek, but he pulled off the sweatshirt and tossed it to the couch. She leaned in, pressed a kiss to his chest and one to his nipple, then swirled her tongue around to tease until it was hard and pebbled in her mouth. Her hands skimmed down across the muscles of his stomach and dipped lower.
“You have to master the control.”
She didn’t care if she mastered it or it spun her into oblivion, as long as he was there with her. She sucked his nipple into her mouth and bit gently on the nub, hearing him suck in his own breath and feeling the beat of his heart against her lips.
Her mouth and tongue explored lower as her fingers pushed at the waistband of his sweatpants and freed him into her hands.
His hands covered hers. “I’m not feeling particularly gentle tonight.”
She glanced up, keeping eye contact as she dropped to her knees and kissed his stomach. Her tongue circled his navel inches above the erection in her hand. “I’m not feeling particularly gentle myself.” Her tongue reached out to lick a glistening drop from his erection as her hands stroked down the hot, hard length of him.
“Briet.” He groaned her name as his hand fisted in her hair.
“Mmm.” She murmured and took him into her mouth with a long suck. She caressed his flesh, her fingers cupping his balls, exploring, enjoying the power.
“Shit.” He pulled her head away from him and lifted her to her feet. “I’m not going to make it to the bedroom at this rate.”
“So?” She smiled at him.
He responded with the most carnal look she’d ever seen. Two seconds was all it took. He had the condom out of his pocket, himself covered and her legs hoisted around his waist as he held her against the wall, her robe puddled at their feet.
His action robbed her breath, stole every last shred of her resistance, sent every morsel of pain, guilt and sadness into a far, dark corner and slammed the door shut.
“Not gentle.” One hand cupped her ass cheek and the other palmed her head, but his gaze was hot, intense, and totally focused on her reaction.
Leaning forward, she licked along his jaw, and nipped him. “Less chat.”
She cried out as he tunneled into her, pinning her from ass to shoulders against the wall. He hesitated for a second but she captured his mouth and squeezed her legs around him. Her thigh rubbed briefly over the mark on his leg and a shiver quivered under his skin. Briet felt the power grow, and when he pulled away, his eyes looked for something in hers, perhaps a confirmation that she felt pleasure, not pain.
She curled tighter around him, and he gave in. He stroked into her with aggressive, passionate thrusts, holding nothing back. His tongue claimed her mouth as his cock claimed her body. Fire, heat, and sensation burned gloriously out of control.
Briet turned her head to gather enough breath to scream as she came under his assault. Nothing echoed from her lips but a hoarse cry of his name. He growled his climax in her ear seconds later. Bodies glued together, they stilled, her frame sandwiched between him and the wall, as they both struggled to breathe and regain control.
She thought she had won. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dropped her head to his neck. Instead, he slid out of her, released her legs and then picked her up and carried her into the bedroom without at word.
Waiting
on the bed she could hear the water run, could almost imagine him meticulously cleaning away any potential to propagate his lineage. She blinked back the sorrow. Children or not, the burden to deliver humanity’s souls through her children wasn’t dire enough to make her turn from him.
Jason needed her, not to bully him to change his choices, but to support him in his decisions. She wouldn’t override his fears and bypass the walls he’d built. She had seen the certainty in his eyes, his belief that he had the potential to be just like his father or his grandfather or the generations before.
She refused to break down the walls he’d erected against the fear he carried, a fear reinforced through harsh years. Fears convincing him that he had the potential to abuse and destroy those he loved. She refused to manipulate him for her own benefit, or the needs of her people, no matter the cost. No matter what their fate, he deserved her support, that and her love were the two things she could give him in abundance.
He walked back into the room and all the need and desire curled again in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him. Her arms splayed out at her side, she waited for him to answer her call.
Jason knelt on the bed beside her. In a quick grip on his shoulders, she surprised him, flipping him over her to his back on the bed. Armed with the condom packet she’d extracted from the side table, she straddled his thighs. She worked her hands from his chest to the thick erection, seemingly eager and waiting. The man had incredible stamina.
He let out a small chuckle. “Okay, Doc. You can drive this time and I can play.”
She let out a groan of pleasure as his fingers teased her breasts. One palm captured her behind her neck to bring her in for a deep kiss.
His moan, as she pushed down onto him, was followed by a chuckle that vibrated to her core. “I owe you for earlier when you were supposed to be in charge. You do the work, beautiful.” He let her up enough to latch on to her breast with his lips.
Her hips moved over him languidly and she bit back a smile. She didn’t consider what she was doing work.
CHAPTER 18
The soft press of warm skin against Jason’s cheek beckoned like fresh cinnamon rolls and hot coffee. He nuzzled deeper into Briet’s neck, with a kiss just below her hairline. Not fully awake, he sported a raging hard-on. His condition had nothing to do with early morning relief and everything to do with his position, his leg and erection tucked in a soft, warm spot between Briet’s thighs.
Another inch and he could slide into heaven for a quick—shit. What was he thinking?
Jason pushed away quickly from the warm temptation and cracked open one eye to look at the clock.
Crap.
He rolled off the bed. Briet didn’t move. The woman slept like a rock. He could probably—No, she’d wake up in a heartbeat and respond like the world was on fire. He’d let her sleep. She needed some rest after yesterday’s trauma. The smile that started to cross his face froze as he moved to the bathroom.
It wasn’t like he was playing house. This wasn’t a trip to happy-ever-after. Just because he’d broken his primary rule, and brought her home to his place didn’t mean they were heading somewhere.
She had been upset. He’d comforted her and tried to make her forget. That was it.
Jason closed his eyes. When had he become such a fuckin’ liar? The twin sprays of water didn’t dislodge the aching desire to crawl back into bed and sink into Briet’s warmth. He could lie to himself and pretend it was about the sex, but she fired more than just his libido.
Dangerous.
Hell, the woman came with her own tribe. Jason grabbed a towel, headed into the walk-in closet, and stared aimlessly at the rows of clean, pressed shirts, and organized suits like an idiot. He couldn’t change who he was, not even for her. A quick surge of something so close to regret hit and he sucked in a breath as he tamped it down.
He heard the bathroom door close as he slid on his suit jacket. Time to make a clean escape. Cowardly, yes, but he didn’t know if he could manage to hold back his reaction to her in the cold light of morning.
His cell phone vibrated on the dresser. He swore as he looked at the number. Glancing toward the bathroom door, relief filled him at the sound of the shower.
“Yeah, Max.” With detachment, he listened to the short, crisp comments from his boss. Fortunately, a response wasn’t expected. Good thing, since he didn’t feel like kowtowing. Max was worked into a frenzy over the girl’s death, listing a series of resolutions for massaging the outcome. None of which sat well with Jason.
None of the items on Max’s list were unexpected. Welson needed to clean up the mess and manage the public delivery of Annie’s death with the least amount of impact possible. Jason understood the result would ease visibility and pressure on remaining trial participants. It didn’t make the job any more palatable.
“No need to come up. I’m ready. I’ll meet you out front,” Jason said.
Good. The shower was still running. He had no wish to go head to head with Briet on this new demand by Welson. Better to let her find out later when he wasn’t around. When he’d had a chance to stomach what they wanted him to do and see if he could find workable alternatives.
He left his keys with a quick note by the front door and headed into the elevator.
***
Briet walked to the wall of windows, watched Jason get in to the passenger seat of a waiting car, and head away toward town.
His note was short.
He had to ride in with Max. She could take his car to work and leave it in the garage.
No personal message. No comment on the night. Not even an instruction on how to lock up when she left. Though she imagined his place probably locked itself. Heck, the fireplace was set with automatic sensors to turn on when someone walked in if the temperature was deemed appropriately cool. Who knew people needed such devices?
She’d heard the call, or at least Jason’s responses. She could well imagine what damage control Max Harris was planning to cover Annie’s death. Welson Corp. couldn’t afford to let the death be associated with the protocol. Not given how they were pushing for FDA fast track approval in hopes of launching the drug next year. There would be insinuations that the parents waited too long to get Annie treatment, or that previous drugs had interfered with the protocol’s ability, or perhaps a genetic abnormality would surface. They could even fall back on the proverbial catchall and claim Annie was in the placebo group.
Not true. Annie received the same medication as the rest of the children. Briet had no legal or natural way to prove a rebuttal since she wasn’t supposed to know.
But she did know and so did Jason. Annie had been fine the day before yesterday. Briet monitored the DNA markers related to the cancer several times a day. When Annie went into the seizure, every organ had already shut down. The staff had rushed her right into surgery to stem the bleeding and tried to keep her heart beating.
She had been at Annie’s side when she’d bled out; not surviving attempts to resuscitate her. Even two hours with the best surgical team in the hospital hadn't been enough to save her. Briet knew that the second she’d first seen Annie after her seizure.
With the chaos yesterday, she hadn’t had a chance to make a thorough final exam or extract samples. She needed those samples. She couldn’t save Annie and couldn’t bring her back. However, she had other patients at risk. It was critical she understand what had happened to Annie to keep the rest of the children safe.
If something else was interacting with the foreign DNA splice to cause this quick, lethal breakdown of the body’s systems, then she needed to track it down. She doubted that was the case. If the cancer had kicked back in, Briet would have had a chance. The natural progression of the disease would have given her some time, maybe. Whatever had happened to Annie had been instantaneous and brutal, like an internal bomb.
Not an accident. No mistake, and definitely not random.
Annie was her patient. Her death signaled a threat to each of her other p
atients. Who and why was the key. She needed to get home, change, and return to the hospital to search for evidence or find anything to give her a way to stop this from happening again.
Then there was Jason.
She took a deep breath. He walked a fine line doing his job. She knew he wouldn’t cover up the truth, even if Max or Welson insisted. Not that he would bring his issues to her. Last night she had cracked through some part of his barrier and it had obviously unsettled him, given the speed and stealth with which he’d fled this morning. And he had fled.
She glanced back at the note. She was pretty sure that a sign of love wasn’t leaving the car keys. On the other hand, he was fond of his car. Maybe she was just rattled by last night as well and looking too hard for signs, instead of trusting in Jason and time.
With a sigh, she walked back into the bathroom and put on her scrubs. Why bother? She could fold naked to her own apartment and no one would be the wiser.
Well, except maybe Ansgar. He had perfected the skill of inconvenient timing. With the events lately, she was relieved he might be there.
Briet folded to her apartment bedroom. The smell of fresh coffee permeated the room.
Yep, thank goodness she had dressed. Without a word, she grabbed some clean clothes and headed into the bathroom to change. When she came out, he was standing there sipping from his cup.
“Out late, little sister?”
“Drop it.”
“Such a cheery disposition to go with that smart mouth.”
She glared at him and he nodded to the extra cup for her on top of her nightstand. At least he’d made her tea. Cup in hand, she walked to a kitchen barstool and took in the new furniture, absent the destruction of the break-in. Ansgar had put everything back into order in one day. Her new door looked solid, with several big, thick locks in place.
“It looks great. Thank you for all your work.”
For some reason, the room looked different. Maybe her perspective on Jason’s apartment had opened her eyes. She took in her own living space with surprise, really seeing the room for a change.