by J. K. Coi
“Jasper.”
God, he loved the sound of his name from her lips, in her raspy voice. He wanted those lips sliding up and down on him until he exploded in her sweet mouth. But this time was not for him. This was all about Callie.
He flicked her nipple with his tongue once more and gazed into her face as he slid down the length of her torso. She groaned as she realized where he was headed and her hips gently bucked.
Her thighs tightened around his shoulders, the hard edge where iron took the place of flesh biting into his skin. He savored the feeling. It heightened the need that had built inside of him so that he was already primed to explode. It was all he could do not to surge upward and thrust inside her now, but Callie wasn’t ready yet. She wouldn’t be ready until he’d made her come at least twice with his hands and mouth.
Her taste burst upon his lips as he licked her sweet folds, making him moan with pleasure. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her and went deep, plunging over and over again, stabbing inside her with his tongue. To his delight, she gripped his hair and demanded satisfaction, which he strove even harder to deliver.
Callie’s head thrashed back and forth as Jasper’s mouth drove her ever closer to orgasm and his fingers plucked at her tight, aching nipples. She spread her legs wider and rolled her hips, encouraging him to lick her right over the edge, and he obediently obliged. As the waves of blinding pleasure slammed into her, her shout echoed between them.
The heavy pulses had barely subsided before Jasper started pushing her again. He guided one finger inside her, and then another, sliding in and out and then circling the sensitive bud of her clitoris.
“Please,” she whimpered. He was watching her, and she thought the heat in his eyes must mirror the raging inferno he had set loose inside her. “Jasper, I need—”
“Come for me again first.”
She groaned as he set his mouth on her once more and scissored his fingers deep inside her. When her body tightened in readiness for yet another orgasm, she tugged on his hair. When he didn’t respond, she clutched his shoulders. “Jasper.”
“Again,” he insisted, lifting his head.
He slowly licked his lips. The sight of his mouth wet with her, eyes gleaming with passion for her, set Callie off again just the way he wanted. Even harder this time. Her eyes fell closed and she tipped her head back as her spine curved off the bed.
When he came over her and took her mouth, she opened for him, tasting herself in his kiss. With her arms around him, she luxuriated in the feel of his chest hair rasping across her nipples, his weight pressing her down. She realized that some part of her had believed she would never feel this alive again.
But was it love?
She’d thought that was over. Jasper’s lies and her pain had killed it. So was it love she felt now, or did she only want to hold onto him because he’d managed to pull her through the anger?
“Callie, look at me.”
She opened her eyes. His length pushed inside her. Slowly. Oh so slowly.
The strain as he tried to hold back twisted his expression into one of reverent pain. He was afraid of hurting her, but after so long, she knew he must want to thrust hard and deep, and it was what she wanted too.
She pushed him onto his back and levered her body over him, taking care not to press her iron fist into his chest. His hands went to her hips to hold her tight as if afraid she would get up and leave, but he gazed into her face with such…love.
Part of her still doubted that Jasper’s feelings could be real, that he could look at her with anything but disgust. Another part of her was amazed by him. In the face of her hostility, he had never once defended himself. He had offered himself up instead. Accepted her feelings and begged for her forgiveness. He had worked so hard to make her see that she wasn’t a monster, that life still waited for her. That it was still precious. And that she never had to be alone.
She lowered herself down, gasping as she drew him into her slick passage.
“Good God, you feel so good.” His hands dragged over her skin until he cupped her breasts. His hips thrust upward, pushing deeper.
She started to move, using her powerful legs to ride him. Harder. Deeper. Soon they were both panting, moaning, striving for release. She leaned down to join her lips to his as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter and then spun away in a blinding explosion of lights and sensation. Jasper stiffened beneath her and buried his face into the curve of her neck, his shout absorbed by her sweaty skin.
Chapter Eight
Callie lay in the curve of Jasper’s shoulder. His fingers trailed up and down the length of her spine and he couldn’t stop dropping light kisses on her forehead, her closed eyelids and her cheeks. He had no intention of letting her move for a long time.
Finally, she gazed up at him. “I wasn’t sure I would be able to feel that way again,” she whispered.
He tightened his arms around her, feeling fierce and determined. “I’ll make you feel that way every day for the rest of our lives, Callie. I promise.”
“What about the general?” She shivered.
The dark cloud of reality intruded. “It’s my fault. I’ll fix it.”
“No.” She pushed herself into a sitting position. “I still don’t know what the future will hold for us, but if we’re going to have any chance together, there are going to be some changes.”
“What do you mean?”
“The woman who danced her way through life is gone, Jasper. The wife who never would have challenged her husband’s decisions is gone.” She pulled the bed sheet up to her chest. “If I’m strong enough to come out of all this and be drafted as a spy for the War Office, then I’m strong enough to be an equal partner in my own marriage. We make decisions together from this point forward. You don’t keep me in the dark for any reason, least of which for my own protection.”
“Callie—”
“There are no secrets between us. Ever.” She paused and cleared her throat, her fist clutching the soft cotton tightly between her breasts. “And it means you don’t get to leave when things become difficult.”
He opened his mouth to tell her he had stayed away from the clinic for her own good, so she could heal properly…but it would have been a lie. She was right. Jasper could have insisted on staying despite her anger. He should have. But instead he’d let Callie and the doctor push him out because he had been scared. Guilty. Furious.
“You have my promise, Callie. We figure this out together, and I won’t ever leave you again.”
She nodded and shifted to get up from the bed, but he closed his hand over her forearm. “I have some conditions for you, too,” he said, pulling her back to him. “You have to promise me that you’ll dance again one day.”
“What?” She shoved against his chest, but he wasn’t letting her go. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Why is it ridiculous? If you can survive this, and if you can give me another chance to love you, who says you can’t dance again if it’s what you want?”
She straightened her legs before her. “Look at these and tell me how that would be possible.”
He didn’t look down. He looked straight into her eyes, seeing the steel that hadn’t been given to her by any doctor, but came from deep inside. Thankfully, it couldn’t be broken by anyone or anything. “I’m looking at the only part of you that really matters, Callie, and I know you can make anything possible.”
She closed her eyes, but he wasn’t going to let her shut him out ever again and coiled his fingers through the short curls of her hair. He pulled her to him, sealing his promises and demands with a hard kiss that quickly turned into a sultry promise of another kind.
Callie awoke with a strong feeling of unease. She’d tumbled into an exhausted slumber after Jasper had made her scream with pleasure yet again, but now she was awake already. They hadn’t made it to dinner, too engrossed in their rediscovery of each other to bear leaving the warm shelter of the bed. Night had fallen and the room was dar
k and cold without a fire in the hearth.
So why do I smell smoke?
She shifted in an attempt to move out of the shelter of Jasper’s arms.
“What is it, Callie?” he mumbled in a thick voice, blinking.
“I don’t know, but I think something’s wrong.”
She stood and had just pulled on a wrap when something crashed through the window and glass exploded on the floor at her feet, spraying up to lacerate her arms and torso. The flames spread immediately, crawling up the delicate silk wrapped around her and blackening the metal of her legs. She quickly threw off the wrap. The fire hadn’t touched her skin, but it was already everywhere else, consuming the heavy drapes on each side of the window, and spreading across the floor and up the bed.
“Jasper!” she cried. There was very little smoke in the room, but that’s because it was being sucked out by the open window, and the fresh air fanned the hot flames so they spread quickly, already too out of control to beat out.
“Callie, get away from the window!” He’d jumped out of bed and was already pulling on his breeches.
He reached for her hand and pulled her away from the open window, dragging a shirt over her head and thrusting her own breeches at her. She shook herself and pulled them on while Jasper went to the door. He grasped the door handle, then jerked away with a hiss and turned back to her.
“The fire isn’t limited to this room, but this is our only way out. We’re going to have to give it a shot.” He pulled a hand through his hair before he spotted the pitcher of washing water on the night stand. He poured some out onto a hand towel and forced her to put it to her nose, while he dumped the rest over her head.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine. Right here with you.” Again, he reached for the door handle, but she stopped him and closed her iron hand over it instead. This was something, at least, that she could do better than anyone else.
The door whooshed out of her grasp when she opened it and she jerked her arm up as a rush of hot air hit her in the face. But while the hallway was consumed by heat and smoke, she didn’t see any flames. Not yet.
She shoved the bedroom door closed behind them, hoping to contain the fire that raged within for a little while longer. Both of them coughed. Callie could see, but only because of her heightened senses.
“Come this way.” He grasped her arm and started pulling her down the hall to the stairwell, but she suddenly stopped and turned back.
Patrick.
“No, Jasper, wait!” she yelled, the smoke searing her already damaged throat. “I have to get Patrick.”
“The boy? Ah, shit.” Suddenly the floor rumbled beneath them. “The fire’s already ablaze downstairs. The whole place could come down any minute now. You go and I’ll find him.”
“No. I promised I would stay with him, and I won’t leave you either. Team. Remember?” She coughed again and started down the hall. Behind her he swore a blue streak, but followed. There was no time for arguing. They were a team, as promised. Which meant they had better well live through this, because she didn’t want to get Jasper killed trying to save a boy who might already be dead.
She hadn’t taken two steps toward Patrick’s room when the first shot rang out. It missed her heart only because Jasper threw himself into her side and shoved her out of the way. The cloth she’d been holding to her mouth fell and was immediately forgotten.
The next shot didn’t miss. It took Jasper in the arm and he bit out a shout of pain. Behind him a figure stood, half-concealed in the smoke.
“Colonel,” he shouted from the shadows. “I’m very sorry about this.”
“Murphy?” Jasper’s voice filled with fury as he faced his friend. “It was you! You were at the park yesterday. Did you set this fire too?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he answered, lifting his arm to aim for another shot. Jasper was pushing Callie steadily backward. The heat was unbearable, and flames were becoming visible all around them now. Obviously, the incendiary thrown through her window hadn’t been the only one. “And I want you to know I never meant for your lady to be hurt. It was supposed to be you. If you hadn’t been so slippery in France…”
Jasper was moving. Slowly. He kept her at his back, but proceeded steadily along the wall, closer and closer to Murphy.
“My men went to your home then, but you were still in hiding. I hadn’t expected them to take her, but…” Callie could see the shrug of his shoulders, and the grim line pulling his mouth tight. “Surprisingly, she lived. It seemed a blessing in disguise when the doctor told you she probably wouldn’t remember. But after seeing how well they put her back together, I knew I couldn’t take the chance.”
In the back of her mind, something clicked. It felt like the last piece of a puzzle falling into place.
“Unfortunately, it means you both have to die today.”
“It was him,” she whispered, clutching his arm tight. “He was there that night. Murphy was waiting at the cottage for the other men. He stood in the shadows and kept asking me questions while they hurt me. I never saw his face, but hearing his voice, I remember. It was him.”
“Traitor.” Jasper’s entire body stiffened. She felt his roar of rage and fury in her soul.
Murphy fired again, but Jasper had already lunged forward and the shot went wild as the two men crashed backward into the wall. She took a step forward, but a cascade of burning debris collapsed through the ceiling above them, barely missing her as it hit the ground. The sounds of fighting reached her, but she could no longer see Jasper or Murphy on the other side of the fire. “Jasper!”
“Callie, go! Get out of here.”
“What about you?” she yelled, her voice breaking off in a violent fit of coughing.
“Save the boy!”
Another shot fired, followed by the sound of crashing plaster and wood. The floor in front of her gave way, sending the pile of burning rubble crashing down to the level below. She scrambled back a few steps, but there was almost nowhere left for her to go. The fire surrounded her on all sides.
She screamed Jasper’s name, but there was no answer. She couldn’t see anything across the void in the floor. The fire in the hallway was too high and hot, spreading too quickly. There was no way to get through it to him.
Chapter Nine
Callie fought her way to Patrick’s room. The far side of this wing hadn’t yet been consumed by the fire, but it was filled with thick smoke and she was coughing constantly now.
Someone had pushed a wadded length of fabric in the crack beneath the door. Thank God for small favors. As she pushed it open and stepped inside, she blinked. Her good eye was too irritated by smoke to see anything, but her other eye was able to pick out every detail, and she noticed quickly that the boy was not in his bed.
“Patrick!” She shut the door behind her to keep out as much of the heat and smoke as possible.
A weak cough from her right. When she turned, she saw him collapsed on the floor, dressed in a nightshirt. “Are you all right?”
“I made it to the door, but I didn’t…didn’t have the strength to do anything else.” He sounded embarrassed.
“That’s more than I would have been able to accomplish in your condition, Patrick. But we must hurry now and find a way out of here.”
He frowned and looked away. “You have to leave without me. There’s no way you can get us both out of here. I’ll only hold you up and then we’ll both die.”
She hunkered down beside him and looked him in the eyes. “We’re going together. If you don’t like it, I can arrange it so that you sleep through the process.”
His gaze widened as he glanced down at her iron fist, but when he turned back to her, the look in his eyes was grateful. “I, ah, don’t think that will be necessary.”
She nodded. “Good.”
“But how are we going to get out of the house? We can’t go back out there.”
Callie shuddered. “I know.” She cou
ghed and looked around the room. “We’re going to have to use the only other exit available.”
He followed her gaze to the window. “You’re daft,” he snapped. “Do you know how high up we are?”
“We’re only on the second story. It can’t be that high.” She kept her voice as light as possible. It wouldn’t do either of them any good for Patrick to see just how petrified she really was. She quickly walked to the bed and started stripping it of the blankets and sheets. “Do you have a better idea?”
He muttered under his breath before finally holding out his hands. “Give me those sheets then,” he said. “My da was a sailor.”
She tossed them his way, gladly. “Make sure the knots won’t slip apart.”
“They’ll hold. But can you?”
Callie didn’t know. Her new limbs had made her stronger, but could she dangle at least forty feet above the ground, holding his weight on her shoulders while the building burned down around her?
She couldn’t think of that now or doubt might stop her before she even tried. Looking behind her, she watched as more and more smoke poured into the room. The small bit of hand towel stuffed under the door had charred and blackened, its usefulness over. The door itself had buckled and warped from the heat.
There wasn’t any time for doubt.
Callie refrained from prodding Patrick to go faster, knowing that the knots had to be right if they were going to work. Once he had tied every available piece of fabric together, including the drapes she’d yanked down from the window, into a long rope and fastened one end to the sturdy leg of the bed, Callie tried to open the window, but it had been nailed shut.
Patrick groaned. “Now what are we going to—?”
She smashed it with her fist and ran her hand over the frame to knock out all of the glass. The cool air was a welcome respite to her burning throat and she took a few big gulps of it into her lungs before turning around.
Hunkering down in front of Patrick, she helped him climb onto her back. “Are you sure you can hold on, or do you want me to tie your hands together around my neck?” She was worried about him. He wasn’t in any condition to be out of bed, much less attempting what she was asking of him now.