by Rebel Adams
“Is it—”
He heard the beginnings of her misgivings, and put a finger on her lips. “It’s amazing. Tight, perfect. Warm. Mine.” To his surprise and delight, she sucked his finger into her mouth and ran her tongue around it, closing her eyes and delighting in the taste of her on his finger. The look on her face was pure carnal desire; there was an untapped vixen waiting inside her. “Move, Whitney.”
She put her hands on his pecs, moved forward slowly, and then pulled herself back. “Ohhh,” she breathed. “Oh, my God. Jackson.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. Her welcoming warmth was slick with her desire and there was just the right amount of friction as she started to move faster. He grabbed her wonderfully curved hips and started guiding her motions over him. In a heartbeat, she consumed him, by the feeling of this intimate connection between them. She suddenly added a little ‘pop’ to her hip and he had no control over the groan that escaped his lips.
Leaning down, Whitney’s breath grew faster and her eyes were fluttering. Her motions were growing more frantic, and he was following her. Her slick heat was teasing him and delighting him, but he wanted more. Stilling her for just a moment, he wrapped his arm around her and sat up. In a great heave, he moved up, and pushed against the headboard, pulling Whitney’s feet under her.
Face-to-face, he caught her mouth against his; his kiss was hard, possessive. It consumed him as well as her. “Move for me, gorgeous,” Jackson said. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
“Yes,” she breathed, and her motions, while constricted, were so much more intimate. “Jackson, I want you to come. Come inside me.”
“Nowhere else.” He lowered his head to her breast and he could feel the desperate winding in his body. He wanted to come; he wanted her body to do this to him—and she was. He pulled her nipple into his mouth, and bit gently on the now-tender peak.
“Oh, damn, shit,” she gasped at his ministrations. “Jackson, again. Do that again. That was amazing. Make me come, please, make me come again.”
Jackson moved to the other waiting, welcoming breast and laved its peak as well—then sucked it in and bit. Whitney’s hands were on his own flat male nipples and she wasn’t being kind to them. She pinched, pulled and twisted—and he loved it. Because it was her.
The quaking of muscles and the tension of every joint in the body echoed what he already knew. He was on the verge of orgasm. “I’m coming, Whitney. I’m gonna come.”
Her beautiful mouth was a litany of swearing and calling on the entire pantheon of gods as she slammed herself down on him. He brought his finger to her sex and brushed over it lightly as he felt them heading for the same orgasm at breakneck speed.
“Come for me, baby,” he coaxed, her sex gliding over him.
“I’ve never— shit—” Her words were stolen.
“Come!” He brushed her sex and nipped her breast at the same time.
She screamed and crashed into her climax. Her body clenched and pulled him in deep, pulsing tighter around him, and after one last hard move over him, the orgasm took him down as well. He pushed his hips up into her and exploded. He thrust almost mindlessly into her, enjoying each of her convulsions around him. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her in close to him, peppering her sweet face with little kisses as she rocked and shivered. With shaking hands, she brought her arms up and around his neck.
Whitney’s head lolled into the crook of Jackson’s neck. She pressed a small kiss to him. “Stay,” she said. “Don’t go home. Stay with me. Spend the night.”
“Yes.”
This felt right.
Jackson woke slowly. There was a touch of sun coming through the curtains, but the best thing was wrapped around him and naked. He could feel her soft, creamy skin touching him everywhere. Christ, she felt good there.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Whitney raised her head and smiled at him.
“Good morning to you too, gorgeous,” he said.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said. “But we have to get going if I’m going to make my appointment this morning.”
Looking over at her, Jackson saw a new woman. She was smiling and it was real. There was a gleam in her eye that said she was ready, really ready, to break loose from her abusive husband. He pushed the thought of adultery aside. Whitney was leaving Sean.
And, apparently, staying with him. Not too shabby.
Whitney popped up and kissed is nose. “I gotta shower and get ready.”
“A shower sounds lovely,” Jackson hinted.
Heat was in the playfully stern look she gave him. “We’ll file that under, ‘not right now’.” And with a flip of the covers, she revealed her amazing, naked body. Jackson harrumphed when his tired-but-willing dick twitched hard. Yeah, any more and you’re going to chafe. And cops don’t chafe. So quit it. Instead, he watched her walk to the bathroom.
His hand print was still on her ass.
Holy crap, libido. Shut it down!
The door closed and he sank back into the bed for a moment. He knew he had to get up and go with her to the lawyers, but he wanted just a moment more to revel in the glory that was the night before. He didn’t even know how many times she’s screamed his name, and he was on some kind of record-breaking streak too. Things had gotten a little kinky – more kinky than he’d expected considering her past—but damn if he didn’t like that.
The shower turned on and he threw the covers back to climb out of the bed. He located the various pieces of clothing and undergarments and laid them out on the bed. It would be easier if he just popped in while she was in the shower and did a quick morning bathroom run.
He knocked and walked in. “Doing okay in there?”
“Mmm,” she hummed. “Quite. Thank you.”
The room smelled like her honey-ginger shampoo, and his dick tried again. He just ignored it this time. He found the hotel toothbrush and borrowed her toothpaste. He splashed water on his face and wet his hair, reorganizing it as best he could.
“Jackson?”
“Yeah, gorgeous?”
“That really was fucking amazing.”
“You have that backwards,” he laughed. “It was amazing fucking.”
She snickered in the shower. “You’d better get out. I’m going to be done in just a minute. And I don’t think you need the temptation.”
“Too late,” he mumbled but complied.
They swung by Dunkin Donuts on the way to the lawyer’s. It went against his general rule of no donuts, but since he was getting a bagel, it was a technicality. Whitney just had her coffee again, and he made a note to talk to her about that habit. She didn’t have to order a toasted bagel with all the dressings, but some kind of food would be good.
Especially if she was going to keep her strength up. She had a husband to fight. They had marathon sex to attempt.
And once again, Dick Quixote is trying to chase the zipper down. Quit it.
The lawyer was located in the center of town, and Jackson realized he knew her. She was one of the best in town for divorces, and he definitely approved. They used the municipal garage, opting to walk instead of trying to figure out the convoluted parking rules.
They hit the sidewalk and instantly reached for each other’s hands.
Well. That was that. Anyone paying attention knew something was up.
Yeah, your dick. Again.
He shook it off and smiled to himself. That was just what happened when there hadn’t been any sex for years, and the gates were opened.
KABLAM.
He knew that sound.
Working on instinct, he had Whitney down on the ground and shielded her with his body. He looked up to see if he could find the source of the gunshot.
There, sauntering across the road, gun out and aimed at them, was Sean Geddings.
Jackson looked down at Whitney. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she answered. “Jackson, let me talk to him.”
Every emotion on the planet ran through him in tha
t instant, but the best thing to do would be to let her talk to him. He nodded and stood, helping her to her feet. She dusted herself off, but Jackson saw it for what it was: a moment to collect herself and confront him. A moment to stand up for herself.
Whitney turned and took a step toward him. “Sean.”
“Get your ass back to the house,” Sean barked.
“Sean, I would like to talk to you privately.” Her request was calm and reasonable. The situation, however, wasn’t.
“You belong to me, Whitney Geddings. No matter what that asshole told you, you’re my wife, and you’re going to get back to that house and clean it up. You’ll have my dinner on the table—”
“No, Sean,” she interrupted him. “No. I want to talk to you privately.”
“Get your ass back to my car and wait for me there,” Sean snapped.
She hesitated, but finally shook her head. “No Sean. No. I am not yours anymore. I don’t know if I ever was. But you married someone instead of just hiring a maid. So now you have to find a good maid to take the place of your wife.”
“Geddings, why don’t you hand me that gun,” Jackson reasoned.
“NO!” Sean leveled his gaze at him. “You will lose your badge for this. And if that bitch doesn’t get in the car, there’s some serious punishment to hand out.”
“No,” Whitney said.
“What?” Sean’s look was beyond pissed.
Protect her.
“She’s not going with you,” Jackson said.
Sean swung his gaze to him and looked him up and down. “You make me sick. I can guarantee that you are never going to sample that ass again.”
Sean pointed the gun at Whitney.
Jackson was faster than Sean’s trigger finger. He pulled her close to him and spun them away from the line of the bullet. He noticed several other officers around, one of whom held a look of shock. As they finished their desperate retreat from his weapon, the other four officers in the area had theirs out.
Jackson looked at Whitney in his arms. “You okay?”
Her face, filled with horror, was fixed on his shirt. He looked down.
A bright red bloom spread over the shirt. A heartbeat later, breathing became difficult. A second after that, his legs gave out.
Then—
The pain radiated through Jackson from every direction. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know he was in the hospital. At least he hoped he was in the hospital. If wasn’t, he was fucked.
“Did he just move his foot? I think I saw his foot move,” a feminine voice said.
It was the wrong damn voice.
“I think he’s coming around,” said another.
That one. That was the one he wanted to hear.
Jackson cracked an eye and a burst of lightening shot through his head, drowning out anything else going on in his body. Slamming his eyes shut again, he muttered, “What the hell? Is this a drug-free facility?”
“Is he always this feisty when he wakes up?” Gretchen asked. “He usually gets in a workout and at least two cups of coffee before I have to deal with him.”
“I wouldn’t really know. I’ve only woken up with him once, but I can testify under threat of perjury he was in a great mood.”
That got his attention. Jackson forced his eyes open and peered at the two fuzzy blobs beside his bed. After a few seconds and twice as many blinks, his vision finally cleared. Whitney’s beautiful smile greeted him.
Gretchen patted his leg. “Thanks for joining us, you dramatic bastard.”
“Glad to be back. I think. How long was I out for?”
“Too long,” Whitney sighed. “A little more than two days. There’s been a lot of people really worried about you.” She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I’m glad I’d already met your parents or it could have been really awkward, you know, me being the woman who nearly got you killed.”
“They probably would have thanked you.”
Whitney tsked at him and began fussing with the sheet covering him. “Are you cold?”
“No, I’m fine. I could use those drugs though. Seriously, what does it take to get a narcotic around here? Gretchen, can you see what you can drum up? Hit the precinct if you have to.”
“You think you’re so funny,” she said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “I need to get out of here anyway. I’ll find a nurse on the way out and tell her that his highness wants to be even higher.” She turned towards the door.
“Gretch. Wait.”
“Yeah?” she asked.
“You don’t have to run off.”
“No, I really do. Now that you’ve decided to rejoin the land of the living, I can give up the vigil. Besides, I left the baby with Tony, and he’s texted me thirty-two times in the past half hour.”
“Only thirty-two? He needs to type faster.”
“It has a penis and diaper. You think he could figure this out by now.”
“Thanks. Thank you for being here.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it. The past few hours have been very informative.” She waggled her eyebrows at Whitney. The two women broke out into laughter, and Jackson groaned.
“Gretchen. Drugs. Please.”
Gretchen head for the door again. “You’ve got it, Detective. On my way.”
Jackson held Whitney’s eyes while he waited for the door to click shut behind Gretchen. Then he broke out in a wicked grin. “Finally. I thought she’d never leave. I’ve been waiting a whole three and a half minutes to get you alone.”
“You’re terrible,” Whitney scolded him, but her eyes twinkled at him.
“Seriously, I was glad to see Gretch, but you’re the only person I need right now.” He reached for her hand and she gave it a squeeze.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me being here when you woke up. I mean; I hoped you’d want me here, but I’d understand if you didn’t.”
“I agree we should stop meeting up in hospital rooms, but why would I not want you here?”
“I nearly got you killed, Jackson. I wasn’t joking about that earlier. It’s my fault that you’re in here. Two inches to the right and you’d be dead. Bullet straight through the heart.”
“It’s not your fault,” he growled back at her. “It’s that jackass husband of yours. He’s the only one to blame. Please tell them they have him.”
Whitney nodded. “They have him. They have my soon-to-be ex-husband.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, laced with distress, “He was watching us, Jackson. He followed us the other night. He was at the hotel.”
It all made sense now. Sean Geddings had been a jealous, psychotic bastard on a mission. If he’d been watching, he’d seen them walk into the hotel holding hands. He had probably witnessed Whitney kissing him in the car. That was why the ficus in the hotel had felt wrong.
Goddamn ficus.
Jackson shook his head in disbelief. He had a new reason for being incredibly thankful that he’d stayed the night with her. No telling what would’ve happened, if Geddings had seen him leave. Regardless, they were both lucky to be alive.
How had Jackson missed him? That was easy: he’d been distracted. He couldn’t even try to sell it like he’d been there just to protect her. All of his attention had been on getting Whitney, and now that he’d had her, he was going to keep her. With Geddings in custody again, this time on multiple counts of attempted murder, one of a police officer, Jackson could now afford a little distraction.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked, looking around the room.
“You can get in this bed with me.”
Whitney looked at the door. “The nurse is probably on her way.”
“That’s all right. I’m not opposed to her joining us if she wants.”
Her laughter filled the room as she climbed onto the bed. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep you to myself.” She tucked herself into his good side and snuggled her head against his chest.
“If I’ve been out of it for two days, I missed our s
econd date.”
“That’s okay. I’ve already issued you a rain-check.”
“As long as I get to collect on it,” he said.
Whitney looked up at him and absently traced a circle on his chest, mere inches from his wound. “I figure that any guy willing to take a bullet for me deserves a second date.”
Jackson looked down at the top of her head and got another whiff of her honey-ginger shampoo. She smelled like heaven. She felt like heaven.
Having his arms wrapped around Whitney seemed like the most natural thing in the world. A week ago, he would have never thought it was possible. But then again, a week ago, he hadn’t known Whitney or that she needed rescuing.
And as it turned out, rescues were his specialty.
“I’d take a bullet for you any day of the week, Whitney.”
November 1, 2014—The first day of the charity event…
I knew I was having a rotten day when not only did my car rental break down, but the tow truck hauling my decrepit rental also broke down—when I was already late for work to begin with.
With smoke billowing from under the popped hood of the tow truck, I cursed quietly at the man bending over the engine. I did not have time for this. Not today.
I glanced down the deserted road lined with exotic trees. “How far until Palm Resort?”
The guy’s dirt smeared face lifted. He glanced around and scratched his head with the screwdriver—what the hell was he going to do with that—and pointed in the direction I already knew I needed to go. “That way. About three miles.”
I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. It was fucking hot in Key West. “Look, I’m going to walk it.” I pulled out my business card and belatedly realized my own hands were just as dirty as his were from when I had attempted to fix the rental myself. “My name’s Elizabeth Forter. This is my cell number. Have the rental service call me when they have a replacement ready.”
Nodding, he took the card. “Will do, Ms. Forter. I’m sorry about the inconvenience.”