by Celia Aaron
I laughed nervously. “I thought you were supposed to convince me he’s okay now.”
She folded her hands in her lap and shook her head slightly. “I don’t think he’ll ever get over what happened to Helen. On some level, that will always be a thorn in his paw.”
I forced myself to think about it from his point of view. To think about what I’d do if, God forbid, something so horrible ever happened to Adele. What would I do if I had the chance to kill the perpetrator of such a horrendous crime? The answer took no time to pop up in my mind. I’d pull the trigger.
“Though that hurt will always be there, it was ultimately what saved him. After I’d been trying for months to get him to open up to me, I was on the verge of giving up. And, mind you, giving up isn’t something I do lightly! Every child in that facility is a hard case.” She took a fierce gulp of tea. “It’s always a fight. Jack was the toughest fighter I’ve ever had. He cussed me, spat on me, threatened me. Anything and everything to get me to leave him alone.”
It was nearly impossible for me to square the person Maria described with the well put-together, stoic man I knew. “So, what happened? How did you get to him?”
“Helen.” She smiled when she said the name, the same as Jack did. “I went through the storage box of items they took from him when he first went into the system. Inside I found the key. A photo of Helen. One of those wallet sized school photo proofs they send home. Her smile was a jolt of joy. She truly was a beautiful soul. If only I could have taught her, she’d be done with college now and probably in law school or medical school. And Jack loved her more than life itself. God, did he love that child!”
She wiped at her eyes. The bridge of my nose stung with unspent tears for the little girl who was gone too soon.
“Anyway, I took that photo to Jack. He held it in his hands and shook as if he were freezing to death. He collapsed at my feet and cried for her. It was the most gut-wrenching thing I’ve ever witnessed. He wailed. You know how in the Bible they talk about wailing and gnashing of teeth and rending of clothes? I never knew what it really meant until I saw him. The depth of his sorrow was too much for him to bear.”
The stinging grew as tears welled in my eyes.
“He let me comfort him then. He clung to me. He’s been my son ever since. After that, every time I asked him to do something, to learn something, to read something, every time he told me he couldn’t, I pointed to the picture pinned above his bed. ‘Do it for her,’ I would tell him. And he did. He was no longer the rude, violent boy who first came to the facility. He grew straight and tall, strong and proud.”
Her gaze wandered to the hardy plants along the walls of the room. “He read on a third-grade level at best when we first started working. By the time he left lockup, he’d read all the classics, plenty of contemporary, and even written a few things himself. Most of all, he loved to paint, loved to put the images of his dreams onto canvas. You may have noticed some of them throughout my house.”
“This one?” I gestured toward the ocean scene.
She laughed mischievously. “He’s going to be none-too-pleased that I took that one and hung it. He did it when he was with you at the beach. Said it was only a draft, not good enough to hang, but I love it.”
“So do I.” I stood and walked closer to it, studying the brush strokes as if they were a decoder ring to Jack’s heart and mind.
“He took his creativity with him to the university. I’m good friends with several of the uppity-ups there because I went to school with them at Paramont.”
“Is that how you know my mother?” Paramont was the boarding school where all the wealthy Birmingham families—old money, mostly—sent their girls. It was one of the few things my mother remembered fondly, it seemed, though she only spoke of it in broad strokes. Georgianna Rochester definitely wasn’t one for detail.
“Yes, we were very close for a time.” She sounded almost wistful. “But then we grew up, grew apart.”
“So, you two were best friends?” I looked at her over my shoulder.
She regarded the tile floor, the first time she’d let her chin drop during our conversation. “We were. We had…” She waved her hand in the air, as if scooting the past away, and met my gaze again. “That was a long time ago. And you came here to find out about Jack, not about some schoolgirl days long gone by.”
I let her change the subject, though I was dying to know about her and my mother. Georgiana had no true close friends I could think of, just the crones from the country club and a few others who lived high above the city. To have what I suspected was her closest childhood confidant in my presence was like a window into my mother’s past. I was desperate to look through the panes and get some semblance of an understanding, but Maria changed the subject.
“Anyway, Jack’s SAT scores were pretty darn good for a kid who’d studied for it while under lock and key. Smart boy. He got out and made a fresh start. His record’s been wiped clean because of his juvenile status. So, on paper, when he got out, he was stainless.”
I turned back to her. The whir of the lawnmower from earlier grew louder, intruding on my thoughts and our conversation. “So he came to live with you?”
She pointed to the carriage house. “Right up there. I’d let him stay here in the house with me, but I suspect he’s more comfortable in his own space. Of course, he could move out now that he has a good job. I think he stays because he knows I like having him around. Him being up there makes me feel like he’s my guardian angel watching over me.”
I took a deep breath and let the question in my heart rise to my mouth. “Do you think it’s safe? I have a daughter. I can’t—I mean—is he safe?”
She quirked her head to the side. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because you seem like a lovely woman, and I’m pleased as punch that Jack is working for you. But, I trust him more than I trust you, and likely more than I will ever trust anyone else ever again. He is, in every sense of the word, solid. I’m sure you’ve noticed how he keeps his emotions in check, maintains a steady temper even when things get hairy?”
“Yes. That’s always sort of intrigued me.”
“He does that because he believes Helen would want him to. He controls himself. He tries to be a good man. He has a reason. And,” she walked to me, and we studied the painting together, “I think he may have yet another reason to be a good man, and she’s standing right next to me.”
My cheeks heated. Jack’s mom just called me out for getting frisky with her son.
Maria put her arm around me and gave a friendly squeeze. “Give him a chance. You won’t regret it. But I do have to warn you, he’s my son just as if he were my own flesh and blood. Despite his past, he’s far more susceptible to being hurt than he is to hurting others. Don’t hurt him.” Her grip on my shoulder tightened and then relaxed again.
“I don’t intend—”
The whirring noise of the lawnmower grew to a crescendo, ended in a clanging sound of metal on metal, then silence, and finally, a string of curses. We turned to look out the wide glass panes and saw Jack about ten feet away glaring down with disgust at a push mower.
My mouth hung open. He was shirtless, his perfect V-shape on display in the afternoon sun. Beautiful, flawless brown skin. Broad shoulders and rippling abs, made even more pronounced by his exertions. He was tattooed, dark ink marking his chest and upper arms. He put his hands on his hips in a pose of frustration. He huffed out a breath, though I couldn’t hear it through the glass, and leaned his head back, looking up to the sky. His Adam’s apple stood out against the long line of his neck. I followed the dark hair that curled at his chest, down his tight abs to where it ended at the top of his shorts.
Maria cleared her throat. I snapped my head around and found her watching me, a coy smile playing at the corner of her lips.
“Well, if you’re satisfied with my rundown of Jack’s character, why don’t you go on out and say hi? He’d love it, I’m sure.”
I very much doub
ted he would love an impromptu drop-in by me, but her tone—though warm—suggested an order more than a request. I was beginning to see how she was able to mold delinquents into fine upstanding members of society. The finest one was standing on her lawn at that very moment, smoldering hot and now looking right at me through the glass.
CHAPTER TEN
JACK
THE WATER FLOWED OVER my head and down my body. I needed to cool off more than anything. Seeing Eden talking with Ms. Temple was a surprise. Eden volunteering to wait on me as I showered, an even bigger surprise.
I had no doubt they’d been discussing my past. I lathered up quickly, wondering what Eden must be thinking about me. Was she still afraid? When I’d dropped the bomb on her the night before, her thoughts seemed scattered and she withdrew, physically and mentally. She’d worked in her office and gave me only a cursory wave when I left for the night.
After rinsing off, I twisted the squeaky knobs to stop the spray and stepped out. I dried and dressed, donning a white t-shirt and some shorts. She rose quickly when I opened my bedroom door and walked into the living room.
“I really shouldn’t have made you rush or anything. I came over because Fairfax said I should talk to Maria. I was going to go, but she can be very, um—”
“Persuasive?” I’d had years to develop stratagems against Ms. Temple’s kind-hearted coercions. I still failed miserably. Eden, though formidable, didn’t stand a chance.
“Yes. I think she’s kind of badass. And,” she tapped her chin, “has she ever mentioned my mother to you?”
“Your mother? No, why?” What was she talking about?
Her face fell. “Oh, nothing, just something she said earlier.”
She fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, a V-neck in a light lavender color that cut down to the pale swells of her breasts. She wore tight jeans with tall brown boots that came to her knee. Pitch perfect for the fall, though I preferred her the way she was in the hotel room—naked, wanting.
“Well, anyway, I should be going. You’re probably worn out from cutting the lawn. You looked so hot… I mean you were sweating, so it was hot. Not that you weren’t hot, because you were…” She pinched the bridge of her nose.
I don’t think I’d ever seen her so rattled. Score one for Ms. Temple.
“Come on, sit down.” I sat on my worn but comfortable sofa and patted the cushion next to me.
She sat and crossed her legs at the knee. I let her get comfortable, gave her time to talk. One thing I’d learned about Eden was that she wanted to tell me things, almost seemed to need it. I didn’t know why she felt compelled to tell me so much about herself when she never told anyone else more than what was necessary. It pleased me, all the same.
She took a deep breath. “Well, Maria told me about how you were at first, when she met you. The things you did to drive her away.” She met my gaze, a question in her green eyes.
“That’s all true. I cussed her, threatened her. Anything horrible you can imagine, I said to her, more or less.”
“But Helen brought you back around?”
I nodded. Helen had become my patron saint. I still dreamed about her sometimes, her smile and the tinkling sound of her laugh. She was the standard I was trying to reach, though I knew I never would.
“I’m sorry those things happened to you. And, more than that, I’m sorry about how I reacted last night. I was just sort of taken by surprise, I guess.” She shrugged.
“It’s okay, Eden. I came to terms with what I did and what I ought to have done a long time ago in that cell where Ms. Temple found me. I had to go through it all to get to where I am now. A different man. I still miss Helen. I think about her. I pray for her. I don’t think that will ever go away.”
She put her palm against my cheek and rubbed her soft thumb along the stubble there. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met.”
“You aren’t exactly weak.”
A haunted look passed across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “You don’t know me, not really.”
“I know enough. I know you’re tough, kind, a great mother. And just a little temperamental. Just a smidge.”
She smiled. “Only a smidge, huh?”
“I don’t mind it. Keeps me guessing like, ‘what will she do next? Yell at me, or pat me on the back? Tell me we’re equals, or demand I go fetch her lunch?’”
Her laughter echoed around my small space, making the streaks of late afternoon sun musical. I wanted her to laugh like that often. She rarely laughed, and when she did, it didn’t reach her eyes like it did now.
She took my hand in hers and opened my palm. She flattened the back of her hand against it, her whiteness surrounded by the darker pink of my skin. “The thing that we did. The thing at the beach. We probably shouldn’t do that anymore.”
She looked up at me, hand still in mine. Her mouth said one thing, her eyes another. Now she knew me, the real me. My secrets were in front of her, and I could sense that she still wanted me, the real me.
“You’re probably right.” I leaned in and took her mouth.
She was sweet, the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted. I wanted more, wanted it all. I’d thought about her so much, replayed our night over and over in my mind. Her skin, her smell, her taste.
She wrapped her arms around my neck as I deepened the kiss, slanting over her mouth and slipping my tongue inside. She moaned into me as I pulled her onto my lap. My hands were in her hair, sifting the silky strands before pulling them. She gave into my pressure and raised her chin, breaking our kiss. I fastened my lips to her neck, feeling the rapid beat of her heart along her jugular as I traced kisses there. I continued down and lingered on her collarbone until the fabric of her sweater was in the way.
“Arms up.” My voice was gruffer than I intended, but she obeyed.
I stripped her sweater up and tossed it aside. Then I picked her up and made her straddle me. The heat from her pussy permeated her jeans and went right to my cock, making it strain against the fabric of my shorts.
She wore a black bra. I didn’t want to see it; I wanted to see her. I kissed down her chest and reached behind her, unfastening her bra and pulling it away from her gorgeous breasts. Her nipples were pink, tight, and hard. I cupped one breast and kissed the other. I wanted the tip in my mouth so bad, but I wanted to make her want it even more.
She dropped her head back, a heavy sigh escaping to the ceiling as she rested her hands on my shoulders. She rocked her hips, grinding against my cock. I continued my tease, licking and sucking the soft skin of her breast while I rubbed the pad of my thumb over her other nipple.
Her fingers dug harder into my shoulders as I circled closer and closer to the tight nub of her jutting breast.
“Jack, please.” Her voice was sex, sultry and low. She looked down. When her eyes met mine, I took her nipple into my mouth. She moaned, and the sound went right to my cock, making it so hard it almost hurt.
I sucked her lightly and grazed my teeth along her skin. She moved her hips faster against me, any inhibition she may have had completely gone. This is how I wanted her, needing and desperate for my touch. I sucked her harder, pinching her other nipple until she writhed on top of me.
I lifted her from the couch and claimed her lips again, kissing her as I carried her to my bed. I dropped her down and sank to my knees in front of her. She was beautiful, her tits perfect and reddened from my attention. I slid my hands down her stomach, enjoying the tremble I caused. I shucked off her boots and socks one by one and slid her jeans and panties down her legs.
She lay back, her mouth slightly open. I wanted to bury my face in her pussy and leaned forward to do just that when she spoke.
“Strip. I want to see you. I want to see all of you.” She reached down and started fingering her clit, wetness coating the tips of her fingers. Lord help, woman.
I pulled my t-shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor. She made an mmm sound and flicked her clit faster, moving her hips to he
r own rhythm.
I pushed my shorts down to the floor and stood. She stopped moving and stared at my cock. Her eyes grew wide.
“Oh my God, you’re gorgeous.” She sat up and slid to the edge of the bed.
She took me in her mouth and pushed my tip to the very back of her throat. I jerked involuntarily at her unexpected move. With my cock still between her lips, she slid to the floor and started sucking me slow and steady. I entangled my hands in her hair, guiding her along my shaft. She watched me, her eyes upturned as she took every inch I had to give her and lodged me in her throat.
“Fuck, Eden!” I could have come just from watching her suck me.
She moved faster, and her fingernails dug into my ass. I was so turned on that I began fucking her mouth with abandon, pulling her head to me as she made delicious wet sounds around my cock. Her eyes watered, but I kept my grip in her hair, plunging inside her and using her the way I’d wanted to for so long. She kept her gaze locked with mine even as two perfect tears slipped from her eyes.
My balls pulled tight to me, each stroke into her wet mouth courting my release. “I’m going to come down your throat if you don’t stop.”
She dug her nails in even harder and increased her suction before slowly slipping my cock from between her lips.
I lifted her from the floor and threw her onto the bed. She bounced from the force of it as I crawled on top of her. I yanked her hair hard and sucked her neck, not caring if I left marks. I wanted to claim her, make her mine somehow.
When my already sensitive cock came into contact with her searing-hot pussy, I groaned. She was so wet. I wanted a taste before I buried myself in her. My cock protested, but I ignored it. I would take my time, taste her, tease her. She deserved it.
I slid down her body, first giving her perfect tits my attention, sucking one and rolling the other nipple between my thumb and forefinger until she was writhing and begging me to fuck her. I wouldn’t. Not yet. I continued lower until I reached the patch of auburn curls. I didn’t tease here. I wanted it too much. I latched my lips onto her swollen clit and flicked it with my tongue.