by Natasha Boyd
Jack pulled me to my feet and against his body, his arms wrapping around my waist. “You okay? You’re acting strange.”
It struck me as funny he should say that. But the sound that came out was not a laugh because at the same time I realized I was absolutely freaking terrified. I sucked in air but felt like my throat wasn’t working. I had no home that wasn’t provided by Jack. My childhood home was a damn hotel. Jazz had said earlier she needed to hire someone to help her out. I wondered if perhaps she might consider me. I could work there for room and board. But no, I couldn’t because I’d have a baby. Shit. I grabbed my chest, inadvertently pushing Jack away to do it, like I could make my lungs work—make myself take a breath. My ribs were so tight, and my lungs weren’t working.
God.
My vision swam and my ears closed up with a muffled buzzing sound.
“Keri Ann, baby. Breathe.” Jack’s urgent voice sounded very far away. I think he held me by the arms, or wait, his arm was under me. “Shit,” I heard him say again.
The buzzing in my ears turned to a roar, and my vision slowly darkened at the edges.
Nine
I blinked.
Jack’s face, his forehead creased and his eyes full of love and fear, hovered over mine. “Can you hear me?”
“Here’s a wet cloth.” I heard Monica’s voice.
I blinked again. I was lying on the couch in the study.
“She’s coming to,” Jack said. And the cool cloth caused me to jerk as it touched my face. “Keri Ann? Baby, can you hear me?”
I licked my lips. “Yeah.”
“I think you fainted,” he said and pressed a kiss to my hairline, my cheeks, and to my mouth. “You scared me. You must be seriously hungry to pass out. What did you have to eat today? Anything?”
“Cake,” I whispered. “Lots of cake.” And a healthy dose of panic attack and pregnancy, I mentally tacked on.
“Too much sugar and no substance. I get weak like that if I eat badly,” said Monica.
“Come on,” said Jack, his voice tender. “Let’s get you fed. Then you can lie down again.”
He slipped his arm under my back to help me as I forced myself to sit up.
Swinging my feet to the ground, I waited for the lingering dizziness to abate, then let him help me to my feet.
He held me tight against his chest, his face buried in my hair.
I wrapped my arms around his hard torso.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered, leaning back to look at me. “Maybe we should get Joey to check you out after dinner—make sure your blood pressure is fine.”
“I’m okay, I promise.” The thought of my brother coming over, and having to lie to him too, was more than I wanted to deal with tonight.
Jack took my face in his hands and softly kissed my lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I responded, and our conversation from the previous night that we still hadn’t addressed lumbered between our words. The phrase the elephant in the room, had never seemed more insightful.
We all sat at the kitchen counter. I worked my way through the delicious, juicy burger, hardly pausing to add to the conversation.
I awoke sometime in the night, feeling the bed next to me for Jack. The bed was cool. Shifting, I blinked open my eyes to see the outline of him sitting by the window looking out. The moon must have been full or close to it because as my eyes adjusted I could make out Jack’s features perfectly where he sat on a chair pulled out from the dressing table and angled toward the window. My gaze traveled from his straight nose and perfect jaw to the lick of curl in his hair and edges and contours of his shirtless body.
“Hey,” I said softly.
He inhaled sharply through his nose as if I’d scared him and turned his face toward me. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” I said. “I was just missing you in my sleep. It’s a good night to go look for turtle hatchlings with that moon.”
His lips curved up. “I was worried about you tonight. If something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”
My heart squeezed, and I closed my eyes to savor the words of him needing me. I got up silently and went to him.
Outside, the black and white waves crashed against the gray beach. The almost full moon streaked a line of light across the water.
Jack’s skin was both hot from his natural body temperature that seemed to roar like a furnace at night and cool from being out of bed. He slipped his hand under my long t-shirt and around my back, tugging me to sit astride him.
“I’m here,” I whispered. “And I’m fine.”
He pressed his face to the fabric at my chest and inhaled deeply.
I held his head to my heart. “Jack, you are so good. Everything in you is so good. You’ve always been so good to me.” Maybe if I used the word good enough times, he’d believe me.
“Shhh,” he urged.
“I’ve never been scared of you.”
“Please,” he begged. And I didn’t know what he begged for. For me to stop or continue.
“You’ve always protected me, loved me, respected me.”
Jack was tense under my hugging arms that were not going to let him go. “You’ve always put me first, at risk to yourself. If there was anything bad in you, I’d have seen it. There’s nothing bad in you.”
“Stop,” he whispered. “Please.” His arms loosened around me, and his hands began to roam all over my back, down my spine, clutching my hips, my ass, down my bare legs and back, pulling me against him. He began to rock me back and forth, mimicking our love making. Distracting me.
“I can’t stop telling you how I feel. Or what I know,” I said, trying to ignore the sensations that had woken up inside me. “I love you. You’re good. You are not evil. And you will never, ever scare me or physically hurt me.”
His hands suddenly pulled me forward in a rocking motion again, and his erection pressed roughly against my core through his shorts. The impact was almost painful, and I gasped. My insides liquefied, heat pooling between my legs.
“But I could,” he said, and his hand twisted in my hair tugging my head back. I moaned when I think he expected me to cry out, and his mouth sucked and his teeth scraped along the column of my throat.
Our hips met roughly again.
“Jack.” I gasped.
Suddenly he stood and tossed me on the bed. I started to crawl back to give him room to join me, but he stopped me. A tug on my leg and my hip, and he’d flipped me onto my stomach and was pulling my sleep shorts down my legs.
Need, hot and sharp speared through me. My body throbbed. If he was intending to scare me, it wasn’t working. The sound of his labored breathing behind me was intoxicating. His hands grabbed my hips and squeezed and kneaded my bottom hard, painfully.
“I love you,” I whispered and hissed in a breath.
I imagined his face. The way his expression turned tortured when he was aroused. The way his eyes darkened.
He yanked my hips backward so I was on my knees.
I felt exposed in this position. Vulnerable. Necessary. If bodies could weep with need, mine was doing it.
Rustling behind me told me he’d pushed his shorts down. My hands found purchase on the sheets. I was so aroused, I could feel the slickness between my legs.
“I could hurt you. Easily.” His fingers pressed inside me, and I lowered my face to the bed to muffle my instinct to cry out.
“I love you.” I moaned and turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. His face, cast in moonlight was as I imagined it would be, but with a hint of wild desperation. Like he had something to prove. Nervousness skittered down my spine.
He stared down at me bared to him and groaned. “Shit.”
Then he slipped his fingers from my body, and I watched as he took himself in hand. He clenched his jaw, then drove into me so hard my knees skidded forward on the bed.
I gritted my teeth to stop from crying out.
His hands at my hips gripped p
ainfully and he thrust hard once, twice. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” I lied, gasping. “I love you. But you’re hurting you.”
He exhaled harshly, gasping air back in, and continued through several more thrusts. But his hands gentled, soothed, his hard movements began slowing incrementally. Our hips rocked back and forth, me pressing back to take him even as he gave—my body still craving him. My heart still breaking for him.
And then his arms were beneath my belly, caressing, pulling me up to be cradled against his chest. His face was kissing my shoulder, my neck, in my hair, against my ear. His breathing stuttered as we moved together. My body craved, and my heart grew, and I arched into his hands as they roamed and caressed. Gently now. Reverently. They cradled my tender breasts and slipped between my legs.
I reached behind his neck needing his mouth closer as he began to murmur unintelligibly. His voice was gentling, soothing, crooning with longing, begging for forgiveness. I felt wetness against my neck as his cheek pressed against me.
I held his head to me, the only way I could hold him. “You feel so good,” I moaned and raked my fingertips over his scalp. “I love you.”
“God, baby.” I felt his head fall back. His fingers slipped back between my legs, working rhythmically, gently, insistently as he continued to move in me. My belly tightened, and I squeezed my eyes closed, concentrating on the growing, coiling tension.
“You’re so beautiful.” Jack’s whispered words in my ear sent prickles across my skin. “You feel so good. I love being inside you. You’re everything good. The best part of me.” His fingers moved more firmly, circling over me, driving me into a tight spiral. My body filled with him. His body, his scent, his words.
Something about his words.
I wanted him there with me. “You, Jack.” I gasped, unable to make an intelligible sentence. “Us,” I tried as if that word was the answer to everything. I needed to tell him it wasn’t me that made him good. My body clenched. His hips pumped, heavy, firmer. Both of us were lost.
His movements became erratic, his hands clutching me too him. “I want ...” He groaned. “I need you.”
I couldn’t answer.
His hands went back to my hips, and my body bent forward wanting him as deep as he could get.
He drove in hard, and I cried out into the mattress as I hurtled into my climax, my body spasming.
“Christ.” His voice was guttural, tortured. “Oh God.”
He froze, lodged deep, spending himself inside me.
Then he folded himself forward, pressing his heated weight to my back as our sweat-slicked bodies sank into the mattress. I turned my head to the side, my heart pounding, and breathed deeply. I loved the weight of him after we made love.
“I’m sorry.” Jack’s lips found my shoulder, his labored breath cooling my skin. He pressed kisses over my shoulder blade and my neck, brushing my hair out the way. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me. I love you. You can try and convince yourself you’re horrible, Jack, but you’re good. And beautiful. And I love you.”
He was silent then, shifting his weight off me, and rolled to his back. “I just hurt you. I fucked you.”
I flinched at his choice of words coming so suddenly.
“And you’re telling me I’m a good person,” he said.
Sighing, I rolled to my side, pulling the comforter over us. “You didn’t fuck me, you made love to me. Even if you can’t see that, I felt it.” I reached for his hand and squeezed. “You’re trying to convince yourself there’s something evil and dark in you. And there just isn’t, Jack. You can keep fucking me if you want to try and find it. I can enjoy it while you search.”
His lips twitched, and I knew he was trying to fight off an unexpected laugh. After a few seconds, his face became drawn again.
“I saw you were taking your pills again.” He flicked a glance at me. “You’re nervous of me too. I kept thinking I could get a handle on this crazy anxiety I’ve been having about being like my father. But seeing you start taking them again, I just thought, maybe it’s not in my head. Maybe it’s real and some part of you sees it too. Maybe you are afraid of me. Deep down.”
“No,” I burst out in surprise. “No,” I said frowning and all of a sudden, less sure. God. But I had been nervous. “Not of you, but of our distance,” I tried to explain. Was this all my fault? He thought I was doubting him, that I could see something in him I didn’t like?
My current predicament came crashing back to my consciousness. “I ... I’m ...” This was the time to tell him I thought I was pregnant, but my throat closed. I told myself that until I peed on a stick, there was nothing to tell him.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
I took a breath. “I want to marry you, Jack. And I want to have a baby with you,” I said, laying it all out on the line and being as clear as I could while still holding my potential secret. “I have utter faith in every part of you. I started taking the pills again because you came back changed. Distant. I thought it was because you were doubting us. But now I know it’s not us.” I willed him to really hear me, deep in his soul. “Your father took away any chance for you to have a normal childhood. But you excelled anyway. You challenged yourself, you pushed yourself, you succeeded. You never let what he did keep you from finding happiness. So don’t let him do it now. Please. I want all the things you wanted with me before you let your father start winning. And he is, Jack. He’s winning. If you let his fear and intimidation work on you even from beyond the grave, then you are letting him take not just your childhood, but the rest of your life too.”
Ten
The next day, I got back to Devon’s late in the afternoon after enduring the nightmare that was Nicole’s mother. I’d never met a more passive-aggressive woman in my life. And I lived in the South, so that was saying something.
I’d also Amazon Primed a pregnancy test to the inn, and the package was now tucked safely in my purse for when I had the guts to do it. If I knew for sure, then not telling Jack would be a really big deal.
“Hello?” I called.
Monica leaned out the door of her and Devon’s study. “Hey. We’re just finishing up some work. I’m making dinner tonight. You guys in?”
“That would be great,” I said.
“You feeling better today?”
I nodded.
“Jack just left on a run. We’ll eat in a couple of hours if you can handle the wait.”
Another run. Without me. Not that I felt like running at all. Today had been exhausting. “Let me know what I can do.”
“I’ve got it, you go rest. I’m not sure you’re not coming down with something. You look tired. No offense.” She winked.
“None taken. See you in a bit.”
She smiled and slipped back through the gap in the door, closing it behind her.
I climbed the stairs. I was starting to feel a bit queasy again. I curled up in the center of the bed and in moments I was asleep. When I woke up, Jack still wasn’t back. I looked at my watch, feeling heavy and groggy. I’d only napped for thirty minutes, but I wasn’t used to napping during the day so I was sluggish and disoriented.
Not knowing how long Jack would be on his run, but with gnawing hunger again, I dragged myself downstairs in bare feet.
“Hey,” Monica called from the kitchen as I stepped off the last stair. “Come join me. Devon’s on another conference call about post. I swear I’ll be happy when this movie is done and dusted.”
“You and me both.” I pulled out a stool and sat, my elbows resting on the cool marble. “What’s post?”
“The editing process after the first round of edits. It’s where they layer in additional effects and fix sound issues etcetera.” Monica was slicing spring onions. “So, Jack stalked out of here in a strange mood. I don’t want to pry, but you guys okay?”
“I—” Shaking my head, words failed me.
<
br /> Monica stopped slicing, her knife slipping from her fingers to the board. “Shit.”
I wanted to say more, but suddenly my throat was closed. Aching. And a dam of tears sloshed inside me trying to break free. And then I couldn’t hold them back. I’d been so worried for so long. And I’d allowed Jack to distract me. I could have been helping him deal with this. He’d been in so much pain. So much worry, and I’d sat here in my selfish little bubble worrying about whether he was going to ask me to marry him or not. I should have gone to England with him. I should have been there for him every night like I had when he’d been writing the damn thing. I didn’t even know how to explain that to Monica. Or to anyone. I felt like I’d failed him. My Jack. I’d failed us. If we splintered apart over this, I’d have no one to blame but myself.
If I’d only married him sooner, he’d know he was okay. He’d know he wasn’t dangerous. Or evil. Jack was so good, so loving, so pure of heart I felt sometimes it was his soul shining so brightly and so beautifully that made people unable to stop staring at him.
I cried so hard the only sound I could make was a thin, aching whine. It was the sound of me trying to breathe through the only space left around all of the love and fear and sadness that was exploding.
I slowly became aware Monica was stroking my back.
Devon was apparently off his call because he set a box of tissues and a small shot of whiskey in front of me. “Drink that. Jack’s coming back in a minute.”
“Shit.” I sucked in a shuddering breath and hiccupped, my body still trying to cry. I needed to pull myself together before Jack saw me.
Monica grabbed a linen napkin and held it under cold water before coming over and pressing it to my cheeks and then my eyes.
“There’s no way to hide this,” I croaked, my voice raw. I took the cloth from her and pressed it over my eyes, willing them to stop crying and presumably un-puff.
“Does someone want to tell me what the hell just happened?” Devon asked.
“I would if I knew,” said Monica.