Dangerous Lover

Fifteen

“Eat.” Jack frowned at Caroline’s plate, where she’d been picking at the same slice of chicken for the past half hour, looking more and more worried.

She’d prepared a fabulous dinner. Lentil soup, sourdough bread, chicken whosis—an Italian name like terrazzo only different—a four-bean salad and apple crumble. She’d cooked enough for four people, and he’d eaten for three and a half. The other half was on her plate, and she was pushing pieces around listlessly.

Caroline looked up from where she’d been watching her fork tines make interesting little patterns in the chicken breast. “Do you—do you think he went into the kitchen, too?”

Jack didn’t have to ask who “he” was. “He” was the shithead who’d invaded her home and made her pale and shaky. “Probably not. Kitchens aren’t usually where people keep valuables, though they should. Precisely because burglars don’t check kitchens. Why?”

Caroline shrugged, the tines now making patterns on the plate with the beans. “I don’t know. It’s just—” She watched her fork shift a green bean from one side of the plate to the other. “Ever since I’ve been taking boarders, I’m sort of used to the idea of sharing my space. But the bedroom and the kitchen are mine, and I hate the thought of someone pawing through my things.”

Jack speared a good bite of the chicken and held it in front of her mouth. “Well, then, it’s a good thing that after tomorrow no one else is going to break into here. Now open wide.”

He slipped the bite into her mouth and waited for her to chew. By the time she’d swallowed, he had another square of chicken at the end of his fork. “Another one.”

She grimaced, but ate it. The third time she turned her head. “I’m really not hungry, Jack.”

Frustrated, he put his fork down. He wanted to make her eat, but he found he couldn’t use any form of force with her.

Caroline was looking down at the tabletop, a long lock of shiny hair falling forward over her face. Jack pushed the lock back with his forefinger, then lifted her chin so that she had to look at him.

“That’s not all that’s bothering you, is it?”

She shook her head, the movement enough to send a faint fragrance of roses over to him, rising over the sharp smells of the food. “No.”

“This is about your—friend, isn’t it? You were in shock this afternoon. You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“God, no.” Caroline looked up at him, chin quivering. Her eyes welled, but she blinked back tears furiously. His heart gave a tight little squeeze at how she willed the tears back. He suspected she’d done a lot of that over the years. “I’ve known Sanders for…heavens, forever. I think I told you we dated in our teens. I thought I knew him inside out. He’s got his good points. He’s intelligent and good at his job. He knows a lot about art and design. He’s a decent dinner companion, and he’s fun if you want a relaxing night out. He’s got excellent taste in films and theater. You just can’t expect too much from him. He’s vain and selfish, and he’ll always look out for Sanders McCullin first, but then there’s his charming side to make up for that. That’s okay because I know him well enough not to expect more than he can give. Today just—” She shook her head. “I had no idea.”

Jack placed his hand over hers. She needed to talk it out, and he was more than willing to give her the space to do it in. “Tell me,” he said quietly.

Caroline looked him full in the face, eyes wide. “He liked it when I fought him.” She shook her head, slowly, clearly still stunned at the idea. “It excited him. It was…God, it was unmistakable. At first, when he tried to kiss me, I thought all I had to do was push him away, so I did. Or tried to. He just held me closer. It’s not—” She shook her head again. “Most women have experiences like that. Someone you don’t want wants you. And usually it doesn’t take that much to make them back down once you make it clear you’re not interested. And I thought it would be like that with Sanders—just push away, and he’d stop. But he didn’t. And when I started fighting back hard…” She drew a deep breath. “He got an erection. It was horrible.”

Son of a bitch. Maybe Jack had been wrong. Maybe he should have killed the fucker.

McCullin had punched a hole in Caroline’s self-confidence, in her sense of herself as a woman. Jack wanted to give a measure of control back to her, repair the torn fabric.

“I know guys like that,” he said, as he held Caroline’s hand. “It’s like there’s something fundamentally wrong inside them, like there’s something broken. Because, honey, a normal man does not get excited at the idea or the feel of a woman who’s frightened or in pain. Trust me on this one. The military attracts a lot of guys like that fu—like McCullin. They like the idea of the power trip and of being trained to dominate physically.

“Luckily, the military also has ways to screen men like that out, and they do that because they never work out as soldiers. Those kinds of men are broken inside in other ways, too, not just sexually. They don’t know how to work in teams, which is what a good Army is all about. They don’t take orders well, and they often have an inflated idea of their own abilities, which can be disastrous in combat. So a lot of them get weeded out. Not all of them, but most of them.” He held her chin and bent and kissed her softly, just a touch of his lips to hers. “The guy’s a sick fuck, and he’s not worth an instant of your time or your worry.”

Caroline gave a soft laugh. “Actually, you’re the one who should be worrying. Didn’t he threaten to sue you? I warn you, Sanders is a really good lawyer. I hope you won’t have any trouble because of me.”

She’d been manhandled by someone she considered a friend, had had her home broken into, and she was worried about him. “Let me worry about that.” He reached out with his thumb and erased the little frown line between her brows. “He doesn’t scare me, believe me.”

“No, I imagine he doesn’t. And I never thanked you for showing up right in the nick of time, did I? Just like in the movies. Jack Prescott to the rescue. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Jack’s voice was suddenly hoarse, and he had to clear his throat to get the words out.

She was holding the stem of her wineglass, twirling it, watching the deep red wine climb the walls of the crystal, lost in thought.

The hand holding the stem was delicate, as was her wrist. He could see the tendons working as she twirled the stem. Everything about her was delicate, even fragile. Tonight she didn’t have her usual rose under ivory color—she was pale and looked tired.

Much as she tried to build little havens for herself from the outside world in her home and her shop, the sharp-toothed outside world had come roaring in to take a big bite out of her in both her havens.

The world was not kind to the kindhearted.

Jack’s heart simply rolled over in his chest.

It was almost as if he were seeing her for the very first time. Caroline had been in his head for most of his life, it seemed. A mysterious, otherworldly beauty, unreachable, unapproachable. Someone to fantasize about while jerking off in lonely places. A unicorn. A myth.

But this—this woman was real. This woman with the gallant, warm heart wasn’t a myth, but a real flesh-and-blood woman. Strong, yet vulnerable. Steadfast, yet fragile.

She was also the bravest person he’d ever known.

If you’d asked him, Jack would have said he was brave. Christ, he was a soldier. He’d been in more firefights than he could count. He went into battle each and every time fully prepared to die. He didn’t back down from anything, man or beast.

Didn’t mean jack shit. When the Colonel had fallen ill, that was when his courage had been tested. It had been three weeks of utter and total hell. He’d spent all the time he could at the hospital, wishing he could escape each and every second. Watching the Colonel die, inch by inch, watching him become weaker, day by day, had taxed his courage to the maximum.

Jack had gone home every evening, gone down to the basement and worked out at the punching bag for an hour a night, and it barely took the edge off his desperation.

At the end, he could barely look at the Colonel. He was ashamed of it still, but he couldn’t stand to see that emaciated face, the skin paper-thin and almost bloodless. The tubes running in and out, the gasps for breath.

When the nurses came to change his bed linen or give him his medication, Jack took the excuse to escape, if only down to the canteen for a cup of what they laughingly called coffee. And each time he came back, he stood outside the door of the Colonel’s hospital room, sweaty hand flat against the door, willing himself to push it open. It sometimes took him half an hour finally to get the courage to go back in and help his adoptive father die.

It had nearly killed him, and it had lasted three weeks.

Caroline had done that for her brother for six fucking years, while laboring under a terrible financial burden.

She deserved the Congressional Medal of Honor.

She was a woman in a million.

Caroline could be hurt at any time, be taken from him at any moment. The world is a big, cold and cruel place. No one knew that better than Jack. No one knew better than he how brutal and savage life could be. One swipe of the reptilian hand of fate, and Caroline could be wiped off the face of the earth in an instant, shattered and forever gone to him.

The beauty and goodness in her could vanish as quickly as a candle being snuffed out.

This woman was incredibly precious, light in darkness, grace in sorrow.

At that moment, Jack realized, with a sense of truth that went deep as bone, strong as blood, that Caroline held his heart forever, and that his mission in life was to keep her safe and happy, bring a smile to her face and the rose blush back to her cheeks.

As long as he drew breath, he would make sure no harm came to her that he could prevent. But even more than protecting her, he wanted her to be her truest self. Nothing could take her back to the carefree, privileged girl she’d been, but by God, he wanted the woman he’d caught glimpses of during the weekend back. A charmer, good-natured, secure in her beauty without being run by it. Well-read, with a good sense of humor, even earthy. That woman was Caroline, the essence of Caroline, when life wasn’t beating her down with a big stick.

Jack couldn’t go back in time and undo today, but he sure as hell could drown her in pleasure at the end of it.

“Come,” he said suddenly, standing up.

She looked puzzled when Jack placed two clean stem glasses and the half-empty bottle of excellent wine they’d been having for dinner in her hands, then yelped as he scooped her up in his arms.

“Where—” she began, then held her tongue. Where they were going was very clear as he headed up the stairs.

“I thought we’d have a nightcap up here.” Jack smiled in her eyes as he carried her along the upper-story landing to her bedroom. Their bedroom now.

He didn’t switch on the light in the bedroom, but the light on the landing filtered in. It was just enough to wrap them in the intimacy of darkness, yet let him see her. He needed to be able to watch her as he loved her. He knew her body well enough by now to know that he could tell by touch what was happening to her, but he wanted to see it, too.

Nothing in the world was as exciting as watching Caroline’s eyelids drooping with arousal, as if keeping her eyes open was too great an effort. Or watching her skin turn an even deeper rose where he touched her, or the barely perceptible beat of her speeded-up heart over her left breast.

God, it all turned him on. Everything about her was designed to make his cock swell, his heart beat faster, his blood rise. The sight of her, the sound of her, the feel of her, the smell of her—everything kept him in a state of semiarousal whenever he was near her or even just thought of her.

He wasn’t in semiarousal now, it was the full-blown deal. Jesus, good thing he’d bought himself another pair of tight jeans because he needed to keep it in his pants for a while.

Tonight was a night for romance, and romance meant foreplay, though it wasn’t what he was good at. Once he got a woman naked, sex was only a few minutes away. He wasn’t used to pacing himself or holding back.

Tonight would be a crash course in control because tonight was about her.

Jack sat her on the side of the bed, poured her half a glass of wine and put it in her hand. He poured himself a glass and clinked it to hers. The pure ring of crystal blossomed in the room.

“To us.” He drank, watching her over the glass.

“To us.” Caroline smiled, swirled the wine around, sniffed deeply, then sipped. That’s my girl, he thought. It’s all about the senses tonight.

Enjoy.

He sure intended to.

Jack dropped to a crouch, wincing a little as his cock rubbed up against his jeans. Fuck, it hurt. Maybe he should just go naked around Caroline, spare himself the pain.

He slowly slipped her right shoe off, then the left, getting a kick out of looking at her pretty feet and her toenail polish gleaming creamy pink through the stockings.

In the quiet room, he undressed her, slowly, like unwrapping a wonderful Christmas present to himself. Stockings, skirt, sweater, panties, bra and there she was, naked, just for him.

His cock pulsed painfully. His heart pulsed painfully.

Her ankles were slender, he was easily able to encircle her ankles with his hands. “You have such beautiful feet,” he whispered, raising his eyes to hers.

They were silver in this light, rimmed by a darker blue. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

He leaned forward, running his hands from her ankles up the outside of her thighs, over her hips, nuzzling her soft little belly.

He leaned forward a little, his shoulders forcing her knees apart.

“Lie down, honey,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “This will take a while.”

That brought a smile to her lips. She ran a hand over his hair, then slowly lay down, one arm covering her eyes.

Fine. She didn’t need to see. She only had to feel.

She was so heart-stoppingly beautiful naked, hips sharply outlined, belly concave, legs dangling over the edge of the bed, completely open to him.

Jack rarely went down. He didn’t have any objections to it, but he wasn’t wild for it, either.

Right now, though, his head was filled with the thought of kissing her there—right where his cock would go, but later. A gentle movement of his hands, and she opened her thighs wider, and Jack simply couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Pale pink, perfect flesh surrounded by a soft thatch of red-gold hair.

To give her a sense of intimacy, he hadn’t turned on the light; but he had excellent night vision. He could see everything, perfectly. The long, pearly, silky slide of her thighs, gently rounded hips, small firm breasts.

He parted her with his thumbs, like unfurling a flower. He’d done this before, but it felt like the first time. It had never been Caroline whose legs he held apart, whose delicate flesh he caressed, warm and wet.

He kissed her, exactly as he would her mouth. She tasted like the sea, spicy and warm. She was panting lightly, the sound loud in the quiet room, a little moan with each pass of his tongue. Jack closed his eyes a moment and concentrated on her—on the moisture welling out of her, on the way her thighs shook slightly, on the way her stomach muscles clenched when he entered her with his tongue.

“Jack,” she murmured, drawing in a sharp breath when he licked her more deeply. He angled for a deeper taste of her and felt the walls of her little cunt move, a sharp contraction.

Oh, yes.

Silky soft, wet. Tasting of the sea, smelling like roses and sex. He lapped and licked and completely lost all sense of himself, kneeling before her, like a supplicant kneeling before his goddess.

When she came, it was with strong little tugs of her cunt against his tongue, the most amazing feeling.

“Jack.” There was need there in her voice.

Caroline needing something…he was programmed to respond. Though part of him wanted to spend the next ten thousand years kneeling by the bed, loving her with his mouth, the rest of him needed to be in her.

A second later, he’d entered her in one long stroke, both of them moaning with relief. He bent to kiss her, and the rest of her moans were lost in his mouth.

The strokes were long, deep, lazy, the entire world reduced to the woman under him and to where they were joined.

There were no thoughts possible in this enchanted land of Caroline—just sensations. The warmth and softness of her, the wet welcome he could feel along every inch of his cock, her arms and legs holding him tightly.

Strong as he was, he could never break her hold on him.

For the first time in his life, Jack lost all sense of himself. He felt like he’d entered her skin, her head, pulling out exactly what she wanted. When she came, he prolonged it, changing the angle of his thrusts, until her head fell back over his arm and her arms and legs fell back on the bed.

That was when he took his own pleasure, hard and fast. She was wet and soft enough to take him fully and—oh my God—when he came, he exploded with his entire body, from his toes to the top of his head.

He collapsed on her, wrung out, a completely different man, Caroline filling his head. She’d been violated today, but he’d make it better, and from this moment on, nothing would ever touch her.

He nuzzled against her ear, head lying on her hair, the scent of roses rising sharply in his nostrils.

“After the security system goes up, we’ll do some decorating together. Paint the kitchen and the bedroom. And we can paint the dining room yellow again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You won’t recognize the house when we’re done.” His voice was slurred with sleepiness and the aftereffects of sex.

He kissed her temple and went out like a light.

Caroline lay on her back, muscles lax with pleasure, inner muscles still so hypersensitive from the powerful orgasm that she couldn’t move her thighs without feeling a jolt of pleasure-pain.

Her body was sending a huge packet of powerful messages of joy to her head, but it was like feeling something happening far away. Her face was numb with shock. Jack tried to move her into his arms, but she turned herself into a deadweight, as if fast-asleep, and could feel his decision to let her be, to let her have her rest. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and settled down himself, so close she could feel his heat, but without touching her, asleep in an instant.

If he touched her again, she didn’t know what she would do. Run maybe. Scream. Her jaw muscles tightened.

The meal and the wine lay curdled in her roiling stomach. She had to swallow heavily against the bile rising up her throat.

Her instinct told her to get up out of bed and run—but run where?

Her head ached as she stared dry-eyed up at the dark ceiling, wondering whether some answers lay up there in the shadows, knowing there were no answers at all. Knowing that either she was insane or Jack had been lying to her all along.

Somehow the huge man lying next to her, who’d made love to her for hours, who had been inside her body, who’d given her such mind-blowing pleasure, somehow he wasn’t who he said he was.

It would be wonderful to forget what he’d said. She’d found herself a magnificent lover, sexy as hell, who’d done nothing but help her since he’d arrived. Courteous, gorgeous, fantastic in bed, focused completely on her.

Rich, too, unless Jenna had played a trick on her.

Total dreamboat, Jenna would have said in high school.

But his words ran round and round in her head, in an endless refrain, mocking her. Words that shifted the ground beneath her feet and made her doubt her own senses. Words that made no sense at all coming out of his mouth. Out of the mouth of a man she’d met for the first time four days ago.

We can paint the dining room yellow again, he’d said. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

Yes, of course she’d like that. A nice canary yellow instead of puke green. Who wouldn’t?

It was very thoughtful of him to think of it.

Except, of course, the last time the dining room had been painted yellow was over six years ago.