Eye of the Storms (Eye of the Storms #1)

by Lisa Gillis

  “Dammit, Marissa!” The sofa table was between us, and he rounded it to stand before me. “I don’t know what I would have wanted. The point is I was never given a chance to find out. I do know that no matter what I wanted when it came to a kid, I would have dealt with it responsibly. And one thing I do know, I wanted you…”

  He swooped in for a kiss, and confused with the emotion swing, I jerked away. Insistent hands clamped on my upper arms, holding me in place for the next attempt. Turning my head only resulted in his kiss hitting one of the sweet spots of my neck, and it wasn’t long before I turned into it. Just as I lost myself in it, he straightened.

  Irate, I gaped. “That’s not fair! I wasn’t finished.”

  Flashing a cocky smile, he yanked at the zipper of his hoodie. “I’ll call you tomorrow before I head over. Maybe pick up a pizza on the way?”

  “You better call,” I grudgingly agreed.

  “Why? Going somewhere?” His gibe was soft and slightly amused that I was mad. Ignoring him, I scooped my shoes from the floor and flipped off a lamp in preparation for bed. As he moved to the door, he reminded, “And don’t forget, if Tristan feels like it, we’re all going out. He said he might want to go to a movie.”

  This entire ordeal was a conundrum. No matter how peeved I was at Jack, from now on, no matter what happened, there would be Tristan to consider.

  It hit me then. Jack was in my life for good. Whether as a lover or an ex-one had yet to be determined. My Lanta. I couldn’t even think about staying in touch with him, yet never touching him.

  Clutching the door, I watched his broad shoulders move away into the shadows of the night. After closing himself in the car, he looked to me as the motor purred to life. Restraining the urge to wave, I backed into the house and flipped the lock, fighting a wave of loneliness as the sound faded.

  This new layer of Jack uncovered tonight was as provocative as it was asinine. My fury with him was only matched by my desire for him.

  CHAPTER 19

  Jack

  Coasting to a stop in the valet lane, I did a sweep of the car for anything I wanted to take up to the hotel room, and practically leaped out. An attendant who looked barely old enough to hold a driver’s license rounded the hood of the vehicle. Barely slowing, I exchange a tip for the ticket.

  Weaving through the lobby, I headed for the elevators and caught one just before it closed. After the floors were selected, a polite silence settled among the few hotel guests I shared the small space with. An elderly woman eyed my attire curiously but curved a sweet smile.

  Feeling some guilt, I quirked a small answering grin. She wouldn’t be smiling if she could see inside my mind.

  I hadn’t been lying to Marissa.

  Currently, whether I wanted to entertain them or not, my thoughts were all of her. Naked. Spread beneath me, her mouth falling open, her eyes locked to mine. Hanging over me, her tits in my face, in my mouth. I wanted nothing more—well except for the reality—I wanted nothing more than to run to my room, strip my own clothes off, and stand beneath a shower with my cock in my hand.

  Making sure to avoid eye contact with the sweet old lady in case my X-rated daydreams were mirrored in my eyes, I carefully stepped around her cane to exit onto my floor.

  As my strides ate up the distance, I fished the key card from my pocket.

  I had no idea how I could be so horny for her one second and then with the tick of the next second, so irate.

  If that weren’t confusing enough, any trace of my anger had dissipated the second she fixed her hurt gaze on my face. I’d felt a surge of the tenderness I’d felt in the hospital when I had kissed her in the waiting room.

  I only knew I couldn’t fuck her there in her house with a conflicting range of emotions messing with my head.

  My phone vibrated my hip as the door clanged closed behind me secluding me inside the room. I wondered if it was Marissa texting and eagerly grabbed the device. With a glance at the screen, I dismissed my friend and assistant, still intent on that shower. I’d let my thoughts and remembrances run amuck, and now I was aching.

  Bending, I loosened my shoelaces and used first one foot and then the other to shuck the opposite shoe.

  Her tongue is velvet… Her mouth a silken blaze…

  I shrugged from the hoodie and tossed it to the vicinity of the bed.

  Her eyes water as she gags, and yet she goes deeper with the next stroke…

  Grabbing the hem of my tee shirt with both hands, I ripped it over my head and tossed it toward the hoodie.

  Her glossy hair strands spill through my fingers, and I clench, twist, and tug…

  Moving into the bathroom, I dropped my cell to the vanity and turned on the water, sparing only a moment to adjust the temperature.

  She yelps in surprise when I flip her to her back, and soon enough, the shrieks of my name are music to my ears…

  My fingers made quick work of the button fly, and I kicked out of the jeans.

  I drag my lips across her mouth, push my tongue inside, feeling possessive and empowered as I let her taste her own sweetness…

  Hooking my fingers into my socks, I dragged them off and stepped into the shower cubicle. My fingers curled onto and eased my ache for a split second before it throbbed even more intensely as I continued to conjure thoughts of Marissa in a tourbus bunk.

  Holy shit, so hot and tight…

  I’d never forgotten the way her eyes had widened the second we were joined. This reaction was common, but I’d savored the look when it came from Marissa. I was hung. Men envied my size, and women always responded with various degrees of wonder. But I’d learned I had to be careful.

  “Okay?” I ask…

  Her bottom lip had been slightly tucked beneath her top, as if she was biting it from the inside. But she’d denied any discomfort.

  “I was till you stopped…”

  Her lashes had lifted another fraction when I moved again. Once a fangirl had gone to the emergency room the day after our hookup. I’d found out when my attorney had called me with the hospital bills, and I still felt like the biggest shit-head alive. I didn’t want to hurt Marissa.

  “If you need a minute…” I know I saw her wince…

  But her fingers had curved into my ass, pulling me closer.

  “I don’t…”

  It hadn’t been my finest moment. I’d lost any desire to argue her comfort level and had greedily pressed on with one deep stroke. Her breath had washed over my face, and her whimper snapped me. A guilty weight had settled on my chest as I viewed her nervous gaze.

  My next words are half-joking and half defensive. It’s the Jackass in me. “Told you.” Immediately, I brush her face, the callused tips of my fingers a direct contrast to her smooth skin.

  Things had happened fast after that. My brain blurred and my body again took over. Marissa adjusted and arched to meet every thrust.

  She’s screaming my name. She’s screaming garbled shit that makes no sense. And she’s simply screaming with her head thrown back. I scoop her legs into the crook of my arms, fitting us together even more fully. I’m getting addicted to my name in that voice. Lifting my arms, I let her legs slide to my shoulders and can’t resist a lick to one dainty ankle…

  Never had I fit so perfectly or felt so spiritually connected.

  My mind returned from the past to the present, and the spray of the shower washed the memory away for now. Mentally and physically sated, I fell limply back to the supporting wall, bracing myself with my hand flat on the tiles to my front.

  What the fuck was I going to do about that woman? It was just a matter of time before I fucked her again. I had thought too much about her over the years. And yet some little niggling thread of my conscience warned me against adding sex to our compounded relationship.

  And because I even had that prick of conscience, I knew I was already putting her in a league all her own. With respect to my son, and to her the mother of that son, I shouldn’t begin a relationship
with her without a clear head of where I wanted it to go.

  Where did I want it to go?

  CHAPTER 20

  Marissa

  The next afternoon, we sat in a line of cushy seats, impatiently waiting for the latest Pixar sensation to begin. A large tub of shared popcorn rested in Tristan’s lap. Tristan was between us, but Jack was getting most of the little boy’s attention. The lights dimmed, and instead of watching the previews, I covertly observed father and son.

  Jack was dressed in low profile mode, his hair and arms hidden in a hoodie, but when the lights went down, he shrugged the jacket off. Tristan traced the art on Jack’s arm, a tiny finger brushing over the colorful guitar and the music notes. He seemed at ease with it, and I had to assume that by going out last night, I had missed the big reveal of Jack taking off his jacket. How I would have loved to have seen Tristan’s face and to have heard his questions.

  When the credits began to roll, Jack suggested a restaurant, but Tristan wanted to drive through and carry food home.

  “Are you hurting, buddy?” Jack asked with an anxious perusal of our boy. When Tristan shook his head, declaring he just wanted to eat at home, Jack let the subject drop. However, the glance he slid my way was sad and perceptive. Tristan was embarrassed on crutches. Only the anticipation of seeing one of his favorite animated characters on an IMAX screen had lured him into the theater.

  ♪♫¨♫♪

  Back at the house, we dug into supreme tacos while watching another movie, this one from Tristan’s DVD collection. Since Tristan had seen it a dozen times, he gave me no problems about a bath midway through. After getting him into the tub, along with the requested Hot Wheels cars and colored bubbles thrown in as extra bribery, I checked the thermostat, making sure the air conditioner wouldn’t kick on, and left the bathroom door ajar.

  Halting at the end of the hallway, I took in Jack sprawled on the couch. Just like last night, he looked as if he had occupied that spot a hundred times over. Despite the angry sparks flying between us last night, all day long, sparks of a different kind had kindled between us. Our flirtatious behavior had been rampant enough that even Tristan, an oblivious innocent child, had noticed a couple of times.

  Jack was quick with the oneline innuendos, and after being astonished and rendered speechless the first couple of times, I’d boomeranged them right back.

  At the theater, he’d held the door open while first Tristan, then I passed through. His hand rested on my back as he followed– a hand that ‘accidentally’ brushed my rear when he later let it drop to pay for the refreshments. As we watched the movie, his arm stretched across the back of Tristan’s seat enough to allow his fingers to brush my shoulder, caress my neck, and play in my hair.

  Now, intermittent splashes and happy hums sounded from the bathroom. Our son was occupied, and before I could talk myself out of the impulse, I went with it. Ignoring Jack’s perplexed look when I advanced so quickly, I dropped to the couch. With first one knee, and then the other, I straddled him. Using my weight to hold him, I closed each of my hands vice-like on his upper arms.

  “Mmh, Mariss, what’s up…?” In keeping with the surreal day, a day that felt like we were a couple, a family, the husky, sensual pitch of his words did not let me down.

  “Paybacks.” Readily, I spoke against his lips.

  My tongue traced his lips, teasing the corners, and my teeth tugged at his bottom one. A deep rumble in his throat drove me to deepen the kiss, and he remained compliant, participating without taking over. It was fun and fiery being the one to plunder, to pace things, and I kissed and kissed, staring into those dark eyes whenever our eyes blinked open at the same time.

  When I was able to speak, I softly jeered, “You have fun by yourself last night?”

  Surprise widened his eyes, but he didn’t miss a beat of this new verbal game. “Yeah. I did. Told you, I have a good imagination.” Studying my face in that heated way he had, he taunted right back, “You?”

  “Me what?” My confused inquiry mumbled into the next kiss. So good. His tongue felt so good… “Mmh…”

  The muscles in his arms jumped when I retreated from his mouth to taste the base of his throat, and instinctively, with last night’s teasing in the back of my mind, I held him fast, brushing my lips to a late evening rough jaw as he spoke.

  “Did you pick up where we left off? Mariss?”

  Indignantly, I straightened and then immediately dropped my imprisoning weight back to my hands. “I went to sleep!”

  “Ouch! That’s cold…” He grumbled, and his eyes fell longingly to my lips.

  “You’re cold.” My reply was chastising, but I couldn’t refuse the kiss he wanted, and I returned my mouth to his.

  “I feel hot…” The whisper opened his lips, and my tongue seized the opportunity to slip through again.

  This had begun as a game to leave him wanting as he had done me last night, but it was becoming impossible to pull away. When at last I managed it, whispering a mocking, “Goodnight Jack,” the biceps beneath my hand flexed. The amusement in his eyes, and his sudden movement had me thinking twice about the soundness of my plan.

  No matter how quickly I released and attempted to get away, his reflexes would be faster. The sardonic light in his gaze, as he assessed my plight, confirmed this.

  On a resigned sigh, I breathed, “You’re just going to grab me, aren’t you?”

  “Damn straight,” his soft, husky answer rebounded, and a smile danced mischievously in his expression, not unlike Tristan’s when he had once gelled Bally’s hair into spikes.

  Choosing that very moment in the hope he would not expect me to escape right away, I used my hands as a pivot point to leap from the couch.

  With the swift reflexes of a tiger, he made a successful grab the second I let up. Like a gator, he promptly rolled, trapping me between him and the back of the sofa. Vice-like, he pinned me and while stealing a kiss, draped a leg over mine enough to continue the roll until he was on top. Wild heartbeats slammed into my rib cage. Already breathless from the struggle, I completely lost my breath when he continued this kiss.

  “Let me up…” I shifted my mouth enough to speak, and unwilling to gracefully lose, bucked against him for good measure.

  “No… Uh uh…” He spoke against my ear. Catching the lobe between his teeth, he teased it with his tongue.

  “Mmh… now I see why you have a sex consent contract thing…” My shameless words were light, but he instantly brought his face back to mine.

  “Mariss my honey, will you shut up about that stupid contract…”

  ‘My honey. ’ The endearment sounded so sweet from his lips, and I searched his face.

  Tristan laughed in his playing, the sound echoing loudly from the tiled bathroom, shattering the spell and busting the brink we found ourselves on. Grudgingly, Jack moved. Sitting up, he stared reflectively into the stained glass shade of a lamp, and when he spoke, it was not anything I expected to hear.

  “A while back, some girl claimed rape. Turns out, money was all it took to make it go away. She took the first measly offer.” Hastily, he assured when his eyes took in my face, “I didn’t. I swear.”

  “I know…” The assurance easily emerged as I read his haunted look. Jack was persistent, and playful, but as I had learned the hard way last night, he had self-control. He was an ass, but he was no rapist.

  Meeting my gaze, he went on, “I guess that’s the reason I acted like I did that day on the phone. When you told me you got pregnant, it felt like extortion all over again.”

  “I knew it would.” Last night I had tried to explain, and now with the same words I strove for his understanding. “That’s why I didn’t tell you when it happened.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry, Jack. You’re right. It wasn’t for me to decide.” My fingertips lifted to his face, tracing the slight stubble I’d felt against my lips and face.

  The kiss he laid on me was caring, tender, and forgiving, and
the kiss I gave back was convincing, trusting, and fiery with love.

  Love? I pondered the word, wondering why it had popped into my thoughts. In my fantasies, I had been in love with Jack Storm forever, but this was reality, and I’d barely known him a week.

  Tristan played loudly in the bathroom, and I knew his bathwater would be getting cold. Jack and I played bravely, hands and lips wandering until I was so hot I was delirious.

  “Could I have more bubbles?” Our son’s voice drifted down the hall.

  CHAPTER 21

  Jack pulled his kiss from its current locale—inside my unbuttoned blouse—and the abandoned nipple, hard from the heat of his mouth, remained hard when the air cooled it. He promptly cupped his hand warmly over it, playing a different game and brought his lips to mine.

  “So when is Tristan’s next Tylenol dose?”

  “Why?” I managed the playful inquiry, despite the current tug of his fingers.

  “You know why…” The question was a hot breath into my ear, eliciting a shiver.

  “Thought you liked it better by yourself.” Brazenly, and still slighted by his actions the previous night, I provoked, despite all that had gone down so far tonight.

  “The hell!” His growl was immediate, and my lips curved.

  “You’re a jackass for doing that last night…” My words were light and airy, even using his name as a pun in the curse, but his response was no longer playful.

  His motions stilled, and he locked his gaze onto mine. “No, you are. What you did last night was bitchy beyond belief.”

  So he was mad about last night. Maybe some part of him had tried to understand when I walked out the door, or maybe he had never been accepting. Ultimately, he was mad.

  “You mean going out? I didn’t think you would care…”

  “No. You were testing to see if I cared. At least that’s what it felt like. And I do care.” His weight left me as he leaned against the back of the couch. “Do you know how hard it was to play with our son like nothing was wrong while you were out with some douche?”