by Crowe, Liz
The roar of a motorcycle engine tore through the quiet, gravel flew from under Craig’s wheels as he spun up to where the attacker had Sara pinned. He squeezed her throat so hard the world started to go black from the outside in. Then he grunted and was suddenly gone.
Sara landed on her hands and knees sucking in deep drafts of air, heard, rather than saw, flesh hitting flesh. Once she managed to unfreeze her limbs and turn around, she took in the sight of the guy on the ground face down, blood darkening the area around his head. Craig was crouched on his back, had his arms pinned. When he looked at her, the edges of her vision went black. She could hear the sounds of a police siren somewhere from a long way away as she crumpled to the gravel.
The first thing she saw was his deep brown eyes full of concern. Strong hands lifted her up and she let herself be pulled into Craig’s embrace. Strange scents assaulted her; a combination of sweat, starch and something like bleach surrounded her as she clutched at his shirt, sobbing with residual terror. He held her close and ran a hand over her hair.
“It’s okay Sara, I’m here. He’s gone. It’s gonna be fine.” His soft, melodious voice soothed her. She took a shuddering breath and let go of him to rub at her eyes but nearly fell down again as her knees shook too violently to hold her up. Craig led her to the porch steps. Her head throbbed with pain and she trembled uncontrollably as the adrenaline whooshed out of her body. He sat and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Relax, it’s over,” he muttered into her ear. She nodded but burst into tears, and leaned into him noting the bleachy smell again coming from his soft blond hair. Craig stood up and blocked her view when the cops marched the would-be rapist to the patrol car. While she laid her head on her knees and tried not to throw up, they shoved him into the back, conferred with another set of uniforms that had arrived in the meantime and made way for the paramedics. Sara waved the medic away. “I’m fine, just scared,” she declared, not wanting anyone in her space but Craig.
He sat beside her again and tipped her face up to look at him. His dark eyes blazed with intensity.
“Sara, you took a hit, remember, let them check it out,” he insisted running a finger over her stinging cheek. She clutched at his sleeve.
“Okay, but stay here with me.” He nodded at the paramedic and kept an arm around her while they did their concussion check. They declared her fine, if severely shaken up. After rubbing some ointment on her sore cheek, they gave her orders to get to the ER if she got really nauseous. As the man walked towards the ambulance, Jack’s corvette wheeled into the driveway with a roar. Sara gasped with alarm and Craig kept a tight arm around her. Jack leapt out of the car and ran over to them clad in full golf outing gear, complete with spiked shoes.
“What the hell happened,” he glared around at the police cars and ambulance. Sara stood on shaky legs and he crushed her to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get your message. I was out on the course,” he ran a hand down her hair and her back. Sara’s body convulsed with tremors again. He pushed her away, touched the crumpled skirt, pulled her shirt together. “Dear God, did he hurt you?” He gripped her arms, eyes wild with fury. He looked around at the cop car. “Hey, where is this asshole,” he yelled to them. “Sit, here, I’ll be right back.” Craig hadn’t moved so she sat back next to him, soothed by the warmth of his body.
Jack stomped over to the group of cops conferring next to their car. He waved his arms around and yelled until one of them put an arm around his shoulders and led him away. Sara hiccupped again and laid her head on Craig’s shoulder. The cop and Jack appeared in front of them.
“Sara,” Jack said drawing her to her feet. “You need to answer some questions then I’ll take you home,” he glanced at Craig and stuck out his hand. “The police tell me you were the one who alerted them. You probably saved her life. Thanks, a lot.” He pumped Craig’s hand and slapped him on the shoulder. “Seriously, thank you,” he looked at Sara and pulled her close. Craig nodded at Jack and looked hard at Sara.
“I told you not to come out here you know,” he reminded her, his gaze still full of worry.
She pulled herself free of Jack’s arm and flung herself around Craig’s neck, noting that laundry fresh smell that permeated him and the feel of his strong shoulders under her grasp.
“Thank you,” she sobbed as tears started flowing again. “I promise to listen next time.”
“No, you probably won’t but that’s what makes you, you.” Craig grinned at her. Jack’s eyes narrowed at the young blonde man as he mounted his Ducati, set his helmet in place, and waved before pulling out onto the country road. He tugged her back down on the step and sat with her as she gave her report to the cop. She broke down, describing how the man had chased her out of the house and slammed her against her own car. Jack blew out a puff of air and held her closer. She could sense his anger as if it were a wild animal circling their ankles, ready to pounce.
Once the questioning was finished, Jack tucked her into the passenger seat of his car and shut the door before conferring with the cops one last time. He gestured towards the man in the back of the official vehicle. Sara stared straight ahead, numb and shivering as Jack got in, turned the key and pulled out of the driveway, pointing the car towards Ann Arbor. She watched as his jaw flexed and clenched.
“What made you think coming out here alone after a single phone call was the smart thing to do,” he asked as he shifted gears. She stared at him. Her face flushed. “That goes against everything you’re trained to do, Sara, goddamn it!”
“You know what, I was just attacked. Nearly raped. Save the lecture for another time.” She reached for the phone Craig had pressed back into her hand after he retrieved it from the gravel. She hit Blake’s quick dial number.
Jack sighed and glanced at her as she told her brother what had happened. After filing her ear he demanded to talk to Jack, so she handed the phone over. Jack had a brief conversation with him, gave Blake his address and handed it back to her, his face grim. “That went well.” He sighed.
“Yeah, he’s a little overprotective. This is exactly the sort of thing that makes him nuts.” She closed her eyes and realized she could just as easily be referring to her relationship with Jack as to her recent brush with sexual assault, as a reason for Blake to go ballistic.
Tears formed, and she let them flow down her still smarting face. Jack put a hand on her leg. “Jesus Christ Sara, please don’t do that to me again,” his voice was rough. Sara took a long, shuddering breath and put her hand on his. He twined his fingers in hers, bringing her hand to his lips. “When I saw the ambulance I….” he shook his head. “Look, just use common sense, please.” He let her hand go to downshift as they approached Ann Arbor.
Both Rob and Blake were waiting at Jack’s house when they pulled in. Sara fell into their arms. “Want me to take you home?” Blake whispered in her ear.
“I want a stiff drink, then I want to lie down, I don’t care where,” she declared as tears threatened again. Her knees started to tremble again.
“C’mon in all of you,” Jack gestured towards his house. Blake shook his head, but Rob put a hand on his arm. “Rob,” Jack stuck out his hand. “Long time no see.”
Rob smiled and shook his hand. “Yeah, it has been.” Sara looked at each of them arranged around Jack’s large front porch like it was the fucking OK Corral.
“Stand down for Christ’s sake, and take me inside. I need a shower, and never want to see these clothes again.” she stomped towards the front door as the men stood and watched her before following her inside.
*
Sara let the water pour over her head, trying to shake off the horrific events of the previous hours, including the scene in Jack’s kitchen. Blake kept eyeballing Jack as if he would just as soon strangle him as stand there and talk. Rob and Jack had carried the conversation, catching up, relaxed and ignoring Blake’s angry stare. He had kept an arm around Sara, unwilling to let her go, after yet another tongue lashing about “bad cho
ices.” She let him hold her. He was a control freak but had always watched out for her. It was soothing to lean against him even though he was staring daggers at Jack.
At one point her body starting shaking so badly she nearly fell. “Excuse me, but I need to get her settled.” Jack took her elbow, guiding out from under her brother’s arm and made her sit, handing her a healthy pour of bourbon. She would not meet Blake’s eyes, especially after Jack’s pointedly possessive statement. Crouching down to be at her eye level, he ran a finger down her cheek, catching a tear that fell.
“Drink this. Then take a shower.” He stood, his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve gotta go back in there and convince your brother I’m not Ted Bundy or worse.” She smiled up at him.
“Sorry,” she said and Jack shrugged.
“I’ve got a sister too. I know how he feels. I wouldn’t let her within a country mile of me either.” He leaned down to brush her lips with his. Sara’s heart stuttered in her chest. A sister? There was so much she did not know about him. “Use the shower upstairs, to the left of the steps in the big bedroom. Towels are in the cabinet.”
She’d gulped down the burning liquid, closed her eyes a minute, and then headed upstairs. Sara couldn’t help but peek her head into the other three upstairs rooms. One was as a home office, with a huge television screen and enormous desk complete with large flat monitor and keyboard. The other two were bedrooms, tastefully minimal. Jack’s room was gigantic, a real man-space with a dark walnut king-sized bed, a closet as big as her bedroom and a bathroom fit for a resort spa. Sara ran a hand across the marble vanity top before slipping out of her clothes and into a thick robe she found hanging on the door. Pulling the thick plush fabric to her nose, she took in a huge breath of Jack’s scent, before turning on all six of the showerheads on full force, full hot.
She could hear the low bass notes of masculine conversation. The occasional laugh made her hope against hope that her brother was thawing a little. She let the hot water rinse the soapy foam off her body, determined to ignore the weird situation she’d found herself in. Images crashed in on her. Flashes of terror and pain invaded, the man’s ugly sneer when he hit her, the sensation of his nasty body pressed against hers. She braced herself on the tiled wall and tried not to panic. The water suddenly stopped.
“Hey,” she whirled around to find Jack holding a huge thick towel, a smile on his face.
She stepped into his embrace; let him dry her off, head to toe. He ended with her hair, rubbing it between the folds of absorbent fabric, his face close to hers, not speaking. She could hear music playing somewhere. Dropping the towel to the floor between them he cradled her face between his hands, kissed her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips, soft at first, then with more intensity, his tongue invading her mouth, owning her, making her gasp for breath.
“Jack,” she started, breaking away. “I should…” he cut her off with another kiss, pulling the robe around her shoulders again.
“You should stay here with me, tonight,” he muttered into her wet hair. “Let me take care of you. I don’t want you out of my sight, ever, although I realize the impracticality of that.”
She melted at that and cursed her eyes for leaking even more tears, wrapped her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to reach his lips. Jack scooped her up, and held her until she fell into a deep sleep, unaware how bone-tired she was until her head was nestled against his shoulder.
Sara jerked awake, a scream on her lips, gasping for breath, unable to process where she was. Jack sat up next to her, soothing, pulling her back down, and covering her face with kisses. She took a deep breath and laid back, as the day came back to her. Jack’s lips distracted her, moving down to her nipples, as he positioned himself between her legs in one movement. The robe she’d been wearing fell open as Jack’s hands moved down her sides, to her waist and hips, as he moved from one nipple to the other, licking and sucking. Sara arched her back.
“Jack,” she whispered.
“Hmm?” his mouth never left her flesh.
“Please, I…” Sara was determined to get control of this, she had to tell him how she felt but felt her throat closing up with familiar fear.
“What do you want me to do baby,” he whispered. “Tell me.”
Sara’s heart pounded. This was a twist. The sensation of his hands and lips, his soft words, being here, in his bed, overwhelmed her.
“I want you to listen to me,” she insisted. His lips returned to their travels down her torso; licking and kissing making her skin break out in goose bumps.
“I’m listening,” he insisted. “I can multi task.”
She sucked in a breath when his lips reached her clit, his tongue flicking it, his hands cupping her ass raising her up to his lips. She threaded her hands in his hair.
“Oh, God,” she gave in to him, words escaping into a whirlwind of pleasure.
He sucked on her hard nub of flesh, and slipped fingers into her dripping pussy, drawing them out slowly, before reinserting, and reaching up beneath her pubic bone, making her cry out.
Jack pulled away as Sara’s body pulsed and shuddered. She opened her eyes and looked at him up on his knees, amazing thick cock in his hand, staring at her, dark blue eyes unreadable. Sara stretched, her body a blaze of post-orgasmic bliss.
“What was it you wanted to say,” he growled.
“That I think I….” Sara stopped, swallowing the words, rendered speechless by the sight of him, the sheer chemical connection between them undeniable. “I love…how you make me feel.”
He smiled as he rubbed a hand up and down his length. Sara took a deep breath and let the words loose, self-preservation be damned. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I love you Jack.” He dropped down and tugged her arms over her head, pinning them there, making her whole body sing with response to this small gesture. His lips hovered over hers. She shut her eyes, waiting for the inevitable smart-ass remark or equally flippant response, hating herself for admitting it. “I shouldn’t, but I do, and I probably shouldn’t have said it either,” he cut her off, his lips on hers. He kept his body separate, their lips and his hands on her wrists the only connection. When he broke away, he shifted the hand holding her down, threaded his fingers through hers and gripped hard. The tenderness in his gaze forced her to look away.
“I need this, so badly. I need you, here with me. I need to be inside you now.” He gave her hand one last squeeze and reached over for a condom, stretching it down over his shaft, his eyes never leaving hers. He positioned himself between her legs, easing the head of his cock inside her. She cried out as he entered her in one long glorious stroke, stretching her, making her raise her hips and wrap her legs around his waist.
“God help me Sara,” he said, his cock buried deep inside her, his pubic bone pressed against her still throbbing clit. “I love…” She used her muscles to grip along his thick shaft. He gritted his teeth, and Sara smiled up at him.
“Tell me Jack. I need to hear it.”
“I want….ahhh, God, woman,” he pounded into her, hard, making her reach up and grip the smooth wood headboard to match his thrusts. She shut her eyes, letting the orgasm take her, as he grunted and came, crying out with her. Their bodies stayed connected, as she wrapped her arms around his head. “I love you.” He mumbled into her damp skin. “And God help me just as much.”
He pulled out and collapsed down beside her. She took a deep breath and turned to him.
“Don’t hurt me Jack,” she warned, putting a finger to his lips. “I may love you but I won’t put up with bullshit.” He grinned and put the tip of her finger in his mouth.
“Are you kidding? Your brother scares the living shit of me. Now flip over, we need our beauty sleep.”
Sara grinned, and snuggled into his body, letting him spoon her. Her brain spun so fast she wondered how she’d get to sleep, but her body calm, satisfied and finally truly content she drifted off in Jack’s arms.
*
The next morning Sara woke, stretched and rolled over to find the bed empty. She rose, wrapping the robe back around her, crept out into the quiet hallway.
“Jack,” she called down the steps. Silence greeted her. The dim early morning light flooded the hall from a bank of large windows. She found the coffee maker, figured out where he kept all the supplies and marveled at the extreme neatness and organization of his kitchen as she assembled a pot. He’d left his phone on the counter, and it buzzed at least twice while she was standing there, staring out the window, unable to process the fact that Jack Gordon had actually said that he loved her. She was close to admitting that the entire thing terrified her to the point of jumping in her car and escaping until she realized her car wasn’t here.
At the next buzz of the phone, she picked it up, realizing too late her mistake. Three messages from “Heather” popped up.
“Hey, we still on for tonight?”
“I’m getting in the shower, I’ll be thinking about you and our last shower together.”
And finally, the showstopper:
“Call me lover. I miss you. I need you. I love you.”
Sara was cold and hot all at once. Her natural tendency to compartmentalize, to shove anything resembling real emotion aside in a self-preserving reflex, had failed her. She’d opened up. She had admitted the worst possible thing to the worst possible man on the planet. She set the phone down, resisting the urge to hurl it against the wall. Sun pierced the fog outside, hitting her square in the face. With it came the hard realization that indeed, Jack was indeed going to hurt her and she had no one to blame but her own, weak self.
She spotted her own phone next to the chair where she’d sat last night, snatched it up and called Blake.
“Come get me,” she spat out. “I’m still…”
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he cut her off. Running upstairs to find her clothes, she started to pull them on and then tossed the ripped shirt into the bin in Jack’s over the top bathroom, tears blinding her as she reached into one of his dresser drawers for a replacement. She pulled the first t-shirt she found over her head, and ran back downstairs. She heard the door slam and Jack’s voice.