“Okay, Lia, that’s enough for now.” Jack grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off his chest, his grip tight.
“But I was touching you,” she breathed.
“I noticed.”
“No, you don’t get it,” she said, curling her hand around his, excitement churning in her stomach. “I touched you, your chest, for crying out loud, and I didn’t shake. Not a single tremble, or a quiver, or anything. In fact,” she let out a short laugh, “touching your chest felt…good.”
“I get it, Lia. You weren’t shaking at all. That’s a big step for you.” The tension in Jack’s voice eased a bit. He bent his head over their entwined hands and placed a light kiss on her knuckles.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” She couldn’t keep from smiling.
“Maybe.”
“It means that it’s working—our agreement is working. Pretty soon I’ll be able to handle touching another man. Maybe Peter. Who knows?”
Jack squeezed her hands and then dropped them. She reached for him, planning to wrap her arms around his neck and reach up to give him a thank-you hug, wanting to push herself further, but he backed away.
“I wanted to—”
“I know what you want to do, Lia, but it’s not going to happen right now. And certainly not outside my house, with both of us freezing our asses off.”
Frustration burned, an ember fanned into flame by his continual resistance. She bit her lip, unsure if the negativity she felt inside her was due to embarrassment or anger. Either way, the warm cuddly feeling she’d had moments ago had now been replaced by irritation. Damn Jack.
“I told you that if I was going to do this,” he said, “it would be according to my plan. I know what I’m doing.” He turned from her and walked up the steps to the kitchen, beckoning for her to follow him.
She remained where she was.
“And Lia? Stop pouting.”
Jack wished Lia had called first. She’d shocked him by showing up. He knew why she was there, knew what she wanted. She wanted another lesson. Probably wanted to move things along faster. But as much as moving faster appealed to him, he knew she wasn’t ready.
Who the heck was he kidding? Even if she was ready to move on to the next stage, in truth, he wasn’t sure he was ready to go much further at the moment. What if she wanted to sleep with him already? If he did go to bed with her, it might mean the end of their lessons, and the end of his chance to convince her to go out with him. No matter how much his body begged his brain to deviate from the plan, he was sticking to it.
In a way, he was proud of her that she hadn’t made arrangements to meet him. Showing up unannounced was out of character for her. She always had things mapped out, planned in advance, micromanaged. It gave her a sense of control to organize her schedule down to the minute. He saw, probably more clearly than she could, that her coming to his home without calling first was yet another step in her finding her strength. She’d exposed a certain vulnerability, had left herself open for rejection.
Big steps for Lia Sawyer.
He patted Remmie’s head, earning himself a grateful but slobbery lick from the dog, and watched Lia out of the corner of his eye. She’d shed her puffy jacket when she entered his house, and was now wandering around his living room, picking up framed photographs, running her hand along the backs of the matching leather chairs, and staring out the banks of windows lining the three-sided room. The half-smile on her face told him she had relaxed. Her shoulders had softened, no longer stiff and taut like those of a military officer. When she pivoted to face him, the light from the bay window spilled onto her face, neck, and chest. The glow in her eyes sucked the breath out of him.
“Why aren’t we going to bed yet, Jack?” she asked.
He shouldn’t have been surprised by her question, but it still sent him off kilter.
“You haven’t touched my body at all,” she continued, “not even to kiss me. I’m ready—I’m ready to get naked together, get into bed, and, you know…do it.”
“Christ, Lia, you think you’re ready, but you can’t even say the words. That doesn’t say ‘ready’ to me.” God, how he wanted her. How was he supposed to do this right?
“Fine. I’m ready to ‘make love.’”
“Don’t use that term—not in this situation. Making love only happens if you’re in love. And you’re not in love. At least, not with me.”
Her shoulders tightened. “So what do I call it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about getting laid, boinking, shagging, fucking?” The words came out fast and harsh.
“You don’t have to be so vulgar. This isn’t supposed to be dirty. It’s supposed to be about helping me move on with my life.” Lia’s lips formed a thin line and she turned from him, but not soon enough.
Damn it—he saw those tears sliding down her face.
God, he was an ass. How dare he make her cry? He didn’t deserve her, but she did deserve an apology.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, I was being crude.” He sucked in a breath, steadying himself. “My intention was to tell you how beautiful sex can be when two people are in love. Making love is vastly different from two friends fucking. Without hearts involved, what you and I will be doing is having sex, not making love. And that’s okay—I just want you to be aware of the distinction.”
“I don’t care what we call it. I just want to stop being so afraid.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the hearth. “I don’t know how to do this. That’s why I asked for your help. You said you were going to hold my hand in the first lesson, but you didn’t. I’d even hoped you’d kiss me goodnight when you dropped me off. But you got cold and distant and now you keep pushing me away. It makes me think—” She bit her lip.
“Think what, Lia?” Now he really felt like a shit. He may have been protecting himself by pushing her away, but in doing so he’d hurt her.
“That I have so little sex appeal even my friend won’t sleep with me. I heard you guys that day, you know. In the Goldpan. I heard Gary say he thought I’d be boring in bed. That I’m frigid. I know Peter said he was interested in me, but God—is Gary right? Do I come off as having zero sex appeal?”
“Oh, God, Lia.” He stormed across the room and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, then pulled her close to his chest. “Is that really what you think?”
She nodded, her face pressed firmly against him. Her muscles bunched up underneath her skin, like silk-clad iron. Those ramrod-straight shoulders of hers had reappeared, but she hadn’t backed away.
“My decision to hold off on taking you to bed has nothing to do with your sex appeal, Lia. It has to do with—” He stopped, unable to speak.
“With what?”
He couldn’t say what was running through his mind. How his reason to hold off on sleeping with her was that once he did, she’d jump straight into Peter’s arms and he’d lose her forever. And he’d be the one getting fucked. He couldn’t tell Lia that. Instead, he prevaricated, saying, “It has to do with the fact that I don’t think you’re ready. Not completely.”
With her head still buried in his chest, she rocked it back and forth, indicating she didn’t agree. “But I can touch you now and not shake. What more do I need?”
Jack nuzzled his face in her hair. She stretched up tall and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her tighter, closer, pressing her lower back with his palms, pulling her to him. Without resistance, she allowed her hips to connect to his body, but with the slightest of tremors. She’d come so far, but she still had a ways to go.
“Gentling,” he said. “You still need gentling.”
Lia let out a quiet laugh. “Like your dad’s wild mustangs? You’re saying I’m a horse?”
He slid one hand up to rest between her shoulder blades. “One could never think of you as a horse. But yeah, you’re a bit like one of those wild foals.”
“I remember your dad’s process. A lot of sugar cubes and apples were involved. Is that how you propose to ‘gentle’ me?”<
br />
He chuckled. “No sugar cubes. No apples. Just slow and steady.”
“Do I get any control here?” Lia twisted her face upwards, reached for his head with her hands, and pulled his face down to hers.
“Maybe,” he breathed.
“A kiss, then?”
Dare he? Kissing Lia this early in the game hadn’t been part of his plan. But her voice had been plaintive when she’d said the word “control.” Was this her way of regaining some of the control her father and Vance had stolen?
She let out a breathy sigh and his body responded. If she wanted control, he’d give it to her. He held still, letting her settle her lips against his. Letting her take control. For a moment, they stood in stasis, lip to lip, until she opened her mouth for him, soft and willing. She leaned forward, tenuous, then let out a breathy sigh.
All thought left him. He slanted his mouth across hers and took her—sweeping his tongue across her lips, driving into her mouth. She moaned deep in her throat and dug her fingers into his hair. He tasted the sultry mix of cherry lip-gloss and cinnamon.
His body responded, going instantly hard, reminding him that this was Lia. His Lia.
Whoa, too much. Way too much. Control was slowly slipping out of his hands. Much more of this and he’d be taking her there, on the floor.
Lia moaned. Need flooded him. He felt what little semblance of control he still had begin to seep away. He plunged his hands through her hair, kissed her deep. He let go to sweep his hands down her body, barely brushing her breasts with his thumbs. One hand wrapped around her back while the other grabbed her hips and pulled her pelvis in tight.
Her breath mixed with his, sending heady waves of lust and love roiling about in his body. He knew she had to feel his erection—even through the thickness of his jeans, there was no hiding the fact that he was absolutely, completely turned-on. His bedroom was just steps away. All he had to do was pick her up and walk ten feet, dump her on the bed and take her.
And have her walk away afterward.
* * *
Lia gasped for air, absorbing the impact of Jack’s kiss. Her body and mind reacted at the same time—her body, panting, craving, yearning, and hungry for him—her mind, filling with the old images of Vance’s angry and contorted face, the haunting echo of his shouted words that tore at the core of her, the memories of stinging slaps and aching blows.
Desire tangled with fear. Her chest clenched, tightened, refusing to allow in precious breath. She grew lightheaded. The shakes would follow, she realized, unless she grabbed control, forced the fear away.
Jack isn’t Vance. Jack isn’t Vance. The mantra sounded again in her head.
Vance couldn’t hurt her anymore. He was dead and she was alive. Alive and ready to start living again. And the man standing in front of her, his erection pressed hard against her belly, was the man she’d chosen to help her learn to live. Yes, Jack had a temper—and had even gone to prison for it. For defending her against her own father. But even with such a violent past, she knew without a doubt that Jack wouldn’t hurt her—he’d never be like Vance.
His scent aroused her, an earthy mix of sweat and soap.
A jolt shot through her. She wanted more. He had to give her more. Suddenly she was shaking from desire. Not fear, the way she always had before, when Vance had touched her, but pure, unadulterated desire.
And when Jack ended the kiss, she still shook as he released her legs and shifted back until she was standing on her own. He held her steady, murmuring indiscernibly in her ear, and nuzzled her neck until she stopped shaking.
“That’s enough for today, I think,” he said, then kissed the top of her forehead. He stepped away, leaving her alone.
Wait. She’d touched him. Kissed him, even. Felt proof of his own arousal against her tummy. And now he was saying they were done for the day? In her mind, they were just getting started. She’d come over this morning intent on speeding up this process. Instead, Jack had told her she needed “gentling,” as if she were some wild horse straight off the range.
That she could touch him, kiss him, meant she’d been gentled. Which meant the next step.
Right?
She gestured to his bedroom. “I think…I think I’m ready for more.”
Jack blew out a harsh breath. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets and ripped his gaze from hers. Instead of answering, he left her, headed to the back exit.
“Jack!”
He opened the door and stepped outside onto the back deck, then paused, his shoulders rigid, his spine like steel. Finally, he turned back to look at her. For a moment, he held her gaze, his eyes burning dark, a deep line across his forehead.
“Fuck, Lia, can’t you leave it alone?” he said. Then he turned and walked away.
Later that day, a panting and burr-covered Remmie dropped a slobber-covered stick in front of Jack and barked. And continued barking, interrupting Jack’s conversation with his friend, Theo Courant. Or rather, Jack thought, interrupted Theo’s monologue. Theo had come over unannounced to find Jack slouched in a redwood chair on his back deck, idly tossing a stick for his dog while his mind drifted to other things. Things like how he needed to line up his crew for the spring’s construction jobs, how he needed to rake the lawn, and how great Lia’s mouth had felt under his. God, what a mouth.
Jack tossed the gnawed-on oak stick, narrowly missing the dog’s head as Remmie leaped high. The dog scrambled down the steps and bounded across the green grass in a blur of motion and Jack wiped dog slobber off his hands. He’d gotten a handful of drool by tossing the stick, but at least the fool dog had shut up. If only Theo’s yapping could be as easy to stop.
“So after I convinced her to give me her number, guess what I discovered?” Theo perched an Italian leather shoe on the chaise lounge before him. The wind picked up and Theo shivered, pulling his suit jacket tighter around him. When the wind brought a flurry of pine needles down on Theo’s perfectly cut blond hair, the incongruity brought a smile to Jack’s face.
“I have no clue what you discovered. Why don’t you tell me?” Jack said, not because he was curious, but because he knew he’d get hit with a volley of “Don’t you want to know?” and “Aren’t you going to ask?” questions slung at him if he didn’t. Theo was nothing if not persistent. And often annoying.
“She has a twin sister.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. You banged them both.” He reluctantly grabbed the stick Remmie held in his mouth, then tossed it and watched the dog race off.
“That did not happen,” Theo said. “Shit—what the hell did your idiot dog do to my foot?” He scraped the side of his shoe against the canvas the deck chair in an attempt to dislodge something slimy oozing over the top of his loafers.
Jack chuckled. Remmie’s drool wasn’t easy to get rid of. Like Theo, who seemed to be insisting on staying no matter how many hints Jack handed him on a platinum platter. “So did you get laid, or what?” he asked.
“Nah, that wasn’t what I was after.” With some effort, Theo wiped off the batch of slime. His shoe now clean, he continued his line of thought. “I got the twins and four of their really hot friends to volunteer for next week’s house building project. Those hotties are the newest volunteers for the Courant Foundation’s Build to Live Project—you know, the one where we help build homes for people who can’t afford to buy a home on their own.”
Jack rolled his eyes. Only Theo could make pegging volunteers for his family’s philanthropic foundation sound as though he was getting laid. Remmie barked and he motioned for Theo to come inside the house. The game of fetch-the-slobbery-stick could go on for hours, and he needed a drink.
“You see Liz lately?” Theo asked. “She sure put a bug up Sadie’s butt this summer at the bachelor auction fundraiser, trying to bid on Ethan.”
“She came around a few days ago. Was in Meadowview, checking in on her mom or something.”
“Liz flirt with you?”
Jack tipped his head
. “I think with Liz, flirting is just a habit. She doesn’t want you, me, or Ethan. Not really. She just needs the reassurance that she’s wanted. Reassurance that we’re there for her. ” The same way Lia needed the reassurance she was sexy, he realized.
“Now that Ethan’s married, Liz might lean on you for a little arm candy.”
Which was fine with him—so long as Liz’s needs didn’t curb his chances with Lia. For years, either he, Ethan, or Theo would provide Liz with the support and protection she needed to face Meadowview, and would act as her date to important events in town. Being labeled the town slut at age sixteen caused a major wound—one the three friends felt compelled to help heal.
Some wounds took longer than others to heal. And some wounds could never heal. He could only hope Lia’s were on the mend.
“So tell me, you getting any?” Theo asked as Jack held the French doors open and motioned to his friend to go inside.
As they headed to the kitchen, he considered Theo’s question. Was he getting any? He was getting some, just not all. Lia had said she’d thought she was ready for more, but the fact she’d used the word “thought” told him she still wasn’t ready. But he was. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold off on actually having sex with her before his body imploded. For her sake, though, he’d have to wait.
“Why is it always about sex with you?” he asked, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard. He rummaged around until he found vermouth and a cocktail shaker. He may like scotch, but Theo was all about the martinis.
“What else is life about but sex?”
“Family, friends, taking time to enjoy this gorgeous world we live in…”
“Gorgeous world to you, gorgeous girls to me. We both take the time to enjoy what we like. I’m not apologizing for having a strong drive.”
Martinis shaken and poured, Jack handed one to Theo and took a sip from the other. He debated telling Theo everything—from kissing Lia when she was fifteen and falling in love with her to her recent request. Theo would be surprised but understanding—like her other friends, he’d found out the hard way after Vance had died what the bastard had done to Lia.
Trusting The One (Meadowview Heat 2; The Meadowview Series 2) Page 8