by Lori Foster
“Either. Both.” He pressed her head forward.
Smiling, Ronnie accepted the encouragement and took him in again. She’d never done this before. Had never had even the slightest interest in putting a stranger’s dick in her mouth.
Eew, no.
But Jack? Jack, she wanted to devour, every single inch of him. And since she took pride in her work...
She concentrated on what she did while enjoying the taste of him, the texture, the heady scent.
“Ronnie,” he growled.
Letting him slide free again, she sat back on her heels and checked her handiwork. His cock glistened, darker now, throbbing. “Complaint? Suggestion?”
“Not a fucking one.” He petted her hair, his big hand gentle. “But I’m a nanosecond away from coming.” He tipped up her face. “You have to stop.”
“I don’t want to stop. You never stopped.” No, he kept at her, up to, during, and after her climax, pushing her until she couldn’t feel her bones, or even her muscles.
“It’s not the same.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “This is your first time?”
Well, hell. It had been obvious? She made a face. “Consider me eager to learn.”
Jack caught her under the arms and drew her up to her feet. “Don’t look like that. You were perfect. Too perfect.” With shaking hands, he cupped her face. “But let’s save that for another time, okay? Right now, I want you. All of you.”
Sounded good to her. “Bedroom it is.” She grabbed his hand and practically ran with him down the hall.
In the time that she’d been with him, his house had really come together. No longer did they have to dodge around tools and construction mess. With a little decorating, some art on the walls, it’d be a perfect, cozy home.
Whoa. Ronnie slammed the brakes on those thoughts. She didn’t know shitola about decorating a house.
Plus, she already accepted that she wouldn’t be around long enough to see it all done anyway. Better that she concentrate on the moment, on Jack and sex and incredible new experiences that she knew would be also become favorite memories.
But as Jack tumbled her into the bed, his mouth on hers, his hands everywhere, she knew she’d already started to hope.
And God, it scared her half to death.
* * *
JACK FELT THE change in her, the uncertainty that always brought a slight withdrawal, but he didn’t remark on it. Sometimes Ronnie was an open book, easy to read. Other times he had no idea what went through her head, but he knew it’d be complicated, wrapped up in her past and all the hurts she’d been dealt.
After he rolled on a condom and settled between her legs, he looked down at her. The T-shirt was bunched up over her breasts, and he’d already skimmed away her panties.
With each small hand, she held on to his biceps as he braced over her.
Her face was precious to him, especially when she was like this, her hair falling back on the pillow, her exotic gray eyes smoky with need, her lips puffy from kisses.
“I will never tire of looking at you.”
Her lips firmed, then gave a sad smile. “Never is a very long time.”
With Ronnie, it wouldn’t be long enough. He wanted to explain it to her, but fire burned in his veins. God, he needed her.
Opening her with his fingers, he said, “I loved having your mouth on me.”
“I...loved it, too.” She stared up at him, unblinking as he pressed into her, first just the head, then with another rocking thrust, he slid deep. She was already wet, swollen, and hot, and he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it, how completely right it felt to be with her like this.
Her eyes went heavy in that special, turned-on way. “I’d never done that before. Never wanted to do it before. But with you...” She licked her lips, making his blood boil. “You taste good.”
He crushed her close, his face in her neck as he concentrated on waiting for her. Thanks to that sexy mouth, he was already primed and she had some catching up to do.
She ran her hands slowly over his shoulders down to the small of his back and up again. “I like this, too, how it feels when you’re on me this way.” Opening her mouth against his shoulder, she wrapped her legs around him.
Now that she’d given in to her curiosity, Ronnie liked to try different positions, but this was her favorite.
His, too. Having her wrapped around him, holding him tight, he could almost convince himself that she was his. Forever. But with Ronnie, he knew nothing was guaranteed.
There were times it made him frantic, wondering when she’d bail, when she’d find an excuse to leave him. Hell, sometimes he worried that if he slept too soundly, she’d slip away—run from him and what they were building together.
If she did, how would he find her again?
Still moving in her, his thrusts steady, Jack whispered, “Give me your word.”
Her body went alternately soft and tense in that way she had as her climax built. Her slender arms tightened, her thighs gripped around his waist. “Yeah, sure,” she crooned, her eyes barely open as she kept pace with his rhythm, the roll of her narrow hips following his, always faster, always deeper.
“Swear you won’t leave me.”
She missed a beat, the lethargy leaving her eyes, making them brighter. “What—”
Jack hammered into her, stealing her concentration.
She gasped, groaned in pleasure.
Softer now, he demanded, “Promise me, Ronnie. Say you won’t leave.”
Her pale throat worked as she swallowed, her eyes held his...and she smiled. “Okay.”
That did it. He was a goner. Wedging a hand under her sweet little backside, he lifted her up, angling her so he could go deeper as he lost control, release storming through him.
Ronnie trembled, cried out, her heels digging into his ass, her petite body arching beneath his with surprising strength.
God, he loved the way she came, the raw sound of her labored breath, the very real twisting of her features.
How she held on to him.
As her moans dwindled and her body relaxed, Jack kissed her. Her shoulder, her throat. Her small perfect breasts.
That stubborn chin he adored.
Her soft, parted lips.
He felt sluggish and sated, satisfied in a way that, sure, had to do with amazing sex, but also with Ronnie and her promise. Sex with her was more of a connection than anything he’d ever known.
Rolling to his side, Jack brought her against his chest. He wanted to tell her that he was in love, that she meant everything to him. A day with her felt somehow fuller than a year with someone else. He breathed easier with her, burned hotter, felt more.
The words were there, but he didn’t want her to bolt, and despite her promise she might. She’d been hurt, terrified, abandoned...and because of that, she’d forgotten what love was. How could she trust it—even if she trusted him?
With a very real threat still out there, he didn’t want to distract her. She needed to stay vigilant.
Hand limp, she patted his chest. “Want me to do the honors tonight?” she asked around a yawn.
“I’ve got it.” They’d fallen into a routine for after-sex bed prep. He disposed of the condom, brought a washcloth to the bed to refresh her, and straightened the covers. It was a small thing, but he liked taking care of her.
“It’s always your chore,” she mumbled, half-asleep already. “Not fair.”
“It’s a pleasure, not a chore, so hush.” He took only a minute in the bathroom and then he was back, standing beside the bed and looking down at her body.
So small and delicate with her narrow frame, her slim limbs, but he knew that, in her heart and mind, she was an Amazon.
Facing away from him, she rested on her side with one leg bent, giving him a tantalizing view. She could have been a slende
r model. A very short model, granted, but still, Ronnie clearly didn’t see what he did.
If she did, she’d never have another self-doubt about her appeal.
Jack trailed a finger over the rise of her shoulder, down the deep dip of her waist and back up the delicate curve of her hip, along her shapely thigh and calf to her small arched foot.
“Perv,” she muttered sleepily, pulling her foot away. “Come to bed.”
Jack inhaled and told himself it would be all right. Somehow he’d figure it out. He finished up quickly, and after getting into the bed, he pulled the blankets over them both and drew her into his arms. Here, with him, he could keep her safe.
He knew the threat was all tied together. The man at the hotel, the attack at the abandoned house, the murder at the bar—it was all about Ronnie. About hurting her.
He wouldn’t let that happen. No way in hell.
But she wasn’t a woman to hide from life, and sooner or later, regardless of what he or the brothers had to say, she’d get back to work.
Ronnie didn’t know it, and she might be pissed when she found out, but tomorrow while she did a makeup party with the women, Jack and Brodie planned to research her family.
If they were tied to the trouble in any way, he’d find out.
And then he’d deal with it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RONNIE HEARD A faint noise and stirred. It couldn’t be morning yet. Not when she remained so boneless.
Mornings had never been a problem for her, but then, waking with Jack hugged up to her changed everything. She smiled even before she got her heavy eyes to open. His arm rested across her waist and his hairy thigh prickled the skin of her hip.
Turning her face, she looked at him. In this room, he’d installed blinds, but the decorative transoms allowed in the gray shadows before dawn.
In his sleep, his brows evened out and his lips slightly parted. Jack didn’t have a heavy beard, but a new growth of whiskers added angles to his face. Her appreciative gaze traveled over his throat and collarbone, down to the swell of a pectoral muscle. He shifted, drawing her closer, cuddling her before relaxing again.
Even when asleep, he overwhelmed her. Ronnie started to close her eyes, hoping to keep reality at bay, when her phone buzzed. A text? Must be what woke her.
Hopefully Drake and Drew were ready to put her back to work. Yes, she wanted to be productive. Badly. Plus when she worked, Jack worked, so she’d consider it a win-win.
Carefully shifting to her side, she reached out and lifted her phone from the nightstand. With her thumb, she swiped the screen—and found a photo of her sister heading out the front door of her parents’ house.
Shock brought her upright.
Jack’s voice, lazy with sleep, stroked her hip. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” An automatic answer, but her lungs couldn’t seem to pull in oxygen. Something was wrong.
Of course Jack knew. He always realized her moods, sometimes before she did. The bed shifted and then his big body was behind her, his chest supportive, his heat removing the chill of unease from her skin.
“Your sister?” he asked, looking over her shoulder.
“I don’t recognize the number.” It was a distant shot of Skylar, so someone could have taken it without her knowing. But who? And why?
Drifting a big hand up and down her arm, Jack suggested, “Your father? Maybe this is his way of finally getting in touch.”
A little numb, Ronnie shrugged. “That wouldn’t really make sense, would it? Why send me a photo of her leaving the house?”
“Nothing the man has done makes sense to me. Maybe you should send a reply?”
Nodding, Ronnie texted, Who is this?
She and Jack waited while the screen blinked, indicating someone was typing. Then she read, You’re not home.
Breath strangled out of her.
“What the fuck?” Jack sat straighter, crowded closer.
She texted, Of course I am.
No, you’re not.
Her heart hammered. The smiley face only made it...weirder. As she started to thumb in another response, the next messages came through.
But your sister is.
Jack turned on the lamp and pulled her back against him. “That’s it. Call the police.”
“And say what?” Ronnie stared at the words, tasting the threat, feeling it pulse through her veins.
Her phone blinked, and new words appeared on the screen.
No police. You’ll regret it if you involve them.
Confusion vied with panic, and she texted, Who are you and what do you want?
I want what you took from me.
She shook her head, but replied, What did I take?
It will come to you. But don’t take too long.
Asshole. Just tell me!
I’ll be in touch again. Have a nice day.
She waited, but when nothing else showed up, she turned to Jack in a rush. “Where’s your phone? I want to call Skylar but in case he texts again—”
“Here.” Jack grabbed it from his side of the bed and they exchanged phones. He stared down at her screen with the threatening words, his expression lethal.
“Don’t reply to him, Jack. Not until I talk with my sister.” She didn’t wait for his agreement but quickly put in the number.
On the fourth ring, Skylar answered with, “Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes, but you’re up.”
“Veronica?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
So...maybe she wasn’t awake. Maybe that photo was from another day. “Yes, it’s me.”
“Are you nuts?” Skylar bit out, instantly more alert. “It’s barely five thirty. I was in the middle of a good dream. And why are you calling me from a different number?”
Ronnie licked dry lips and tried to think rationally. She glanced at the phone Jack held, scanning the words again. With her fingertip, she scrolled back to the photo and made note of the clothes. “When did you work out?”
“I work out every day, you know that.” There was some rustling, as if Skylar sat up in the bed. “Why? What’s going on?”
“When did you wear black yoga pants, your pink sneakers, and a pink hoodie?”
“Yesterday,” Skylar breathed, and then with furious accusation, “Are you spying on me?”
“Not me, no.”
That only agitated her sister more. “What does that mean?”
“Someone sent me a pic of you in those clothes. You were walking out the house.”
“Who?”
Frustration burned Ronnie’s eyes and made her stomach queasy. “I don’t know.” Messing with her was one thing, but involving her sister—a sister who already disliked her? “You need to be careful, Skylar. Don’t be anywhere alone, okay?”
Tension pulsed in the silence, and then Skylar burst. “This is because Mom left Dad, isn’t it? You’re trying to nose around for details. Well, forget it. It’s none of your damned business.”
Ronnie almost dropped the phone. “Mom... Dad...what?”
“Mom threw him out.” Skylar sniffed. “Like you didn’t know.”
Her brain buzzed. “Threw him out, as in...he left? Why?”
“If Mom wanted you to know, she’d call you. Now I need to get back to sleep—”
“Wait!” Ronnie drew in a calming breath. The never-ending drama between her parents could wait. “I’m sorry, but someone took a photo of you leaving the house, then texted it to me. Do you understand? Someone was watching you. I don’t know who, but I know it’s meant as a threat.”
At least that got her sister’s attention. “A threat against me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
That spiked her sister’s ire again. “You and that sick job of yours!” Rife with accusation,
Skylar said, “You know Mom hated it from the start, but you kept it anyway. It made her worry about you and that made them argue even more.”
“Mom and Dad were still arguing about me?” Ronnie shook her head the second the words left her mouth. It didn’t matter. “Neither of them really cared about me, Skylar.” Not about her, so why should they care about her job? “You know that.”
Skylar stayed quiet, and the old bitterness sank in. God, how Ronnie hated this, reliving it all, having the lack of love shoved in her face one more time.
Jack put an arm around her, silently supportive.
It helped, being here with him. What if she’d still been all alone? She shook her head again. “I have to go, Skylar. Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t go anywhere alone and if anyone bothers you, anyone at all, call the police.”
“Sure, but you realize it’s probably just Dad.” She sounded unsure—and a little afraid. “I imagine he misses me since I stayed with Mom.”
“I hope you’re right.” Ronnie hesitated, wanting to tell her sister how much she cared, but they didn’t do that anymore. Maybe they’d never done it. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything, and I hope you’ll call me if you see anyone suspicious. My number is the same.”
“Yeah, all right.” Skylar hesitated, then added quietly, “You be careful, too. Just in case it’s not Dad.” When she disconnected the call, Ronnie dropped Jack’s phone to the pillow.
Jack wrapped both arms around her. “It’s the man from the hotel. The same one who killed Marge.”
“Maybe.” Ronnie hesitated for a moment, her thumb hovering over the screen, until she made a decision. “I’m going to call him.” Maybe, just maybe it would be her Dad, though she had serious doubts.
Doubts that doubled when the call went unanswered. These days, everyone had voice mail—unless they deliberately didn’t want it.
More to herself than Jack, she whispered, “I have Dad’s number. Maybe I should try it...”
“Let me call him.”
Twisting to face Jack, Ronnie took in his rumpled hair, the beard scruff, the alert dark eyes, now hot with possessive anger. She’d awakened him with this mess, and yet he didn’t complain.