Midnight Vengeance (7 page)

* * *

The mattress dipped to take Jacko’s heavy weight. He moved slowly and cautiously as if he expected her to run away any second now. But she wasn’t going to run away. This next part was probably going to get really interesting.

If she thought Jacko would roll on top of her like any other man would, she was mistaken. He lay at her side, propped up on one massive arm, looking at her. His entire body was like a heater—warmth emanated from him, penetrating skin, penetrating bone.

He bent his head and kissed her shoulder while his free hand skimmed down between her breasts, over her stomach, down to between her legs.

“Open your legs,” he whispered against her skin and her legs slid apart, as if they were there to do his bidding. That big hand disappeared between them. All she could see was his brawny forearm with the barbed wire tats around his thick wrist but she could feel him touching her. Slowly, carefully. Running a callused finger gently around her opening.

He thought she needed foreplay, needed warming up? Surely he could feel how slick she was, feel moisture coming with each stroke of his finger. And foreplay wasn’t necessary with a naked Jacko in her bed. He was living, breathing foreplay.

She turned her head to look at him, take him in. He was grim-faced as usual. Well, she was familiar with his face. He wasn’t a handsome man but then his attraction didn’t lie in his face. His attraction was that overwhelming maleness.

When they’d kissed in her living room she’d felt him, felt those hard muscles, but it had been through layers of clothing. Now she could see what she’d only felt before and it was just...amazing. His dark skin was tough, like leather. Each muscle was clearly delineated, thick ropy raised veins running under the skin. He had so little body fat that in some places she could see the striation of muscle tissue. With all that he had a bodybuilder’s physique he didn’t look blocky or awkward. He looked like a Platonic ideal of man, perfect.

He was lying on his side, his shoulders so broad that he blocked out her vision. All she could see, stretching from horizon to horizon, was dark-skinned muscle, her world reduced to a cage of man.

Everything fell away. Her problems remained, but as distant clouds on the horizon. There, menacing, but not a threat right now, zooming out to the distance while the foreground of her consciousness was heat and desire, not cold, empty loneliness.

Fine by her, let Jacko drown out the world. The world had taken huge bites out of her. Jacko wasn’t going to hurt her in any way. If anything, he was being too gentle. His fingertip circling her was barely touching her flesh. Her hips were gently moving, trying to deepen his touch.

She opened her mouth, though she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, and he leaned over and kissed her breast, and all that came out of her mouth was a deep sigh. Everything was happening in slow motion, slow movements, lush and languid. Except for those moments when his thumb brushed her clitoris and sent electricity through her. But then he moved right past, the beast.

His mouth, too, teased her as he nibbled his way around her breast, soft lips with the slight bite of stubble giving her goose bumps.

Clearly Jacko wasn’t going to do anything fast, and she couldn’t imagine making him do something he didn’t want to do, so she let herself enjoy the slow—very slow,
glacially
slow—seduction. It was so silent in the room, no noises from the street. It was a quiet street and the gentle snow ate up all sound. The only sounds were the incredibly erotic sounds Jacko was making with her body, as if she were some musical instrument—his lips on her breast, his hand on her sex.

She felt cocooned in some magical place where no worries were allowed. The only things allowed in the room were heat and desire, Jacko’s hands and mouth bringing them up from someplace deep inside of her. A place that had been deserted for so long.

Jacko’s mouth found her nipple just as his finger penetrated her and that lazy warm feeling of floating on water changed, sharpened, and she started contracting around his finger in an electric climax.

Usually it took her a long time to climax. She’d feel it coming from a long way away and would coax herself to it. Now it shot like a lightning bolt through her, her body taking over completely.

“Yeah,” Jacko muttered, mounting her. He held her open with two fingers and slid deeply inside her, then stilled.

Amazingly, Lauren was still coming, clenching over and over again around him as he held still for her. He was kissing her deeply and every sense she had was infused with Jacko. With the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him. All dark and delicious and so exciting she could barely breathe.

“Need to get deeper,” he whispered into her mouth and she arched her back and opened wider for him, and just as the spasms started dying down he held her head still for his kiss and started moving inside her, hard and fast.

* * *

Lauren wanted to open her eyes but, whoa. Way too much of an effort. She felt really really good exactly where she was.

Where was that?

Wherever it was, it was a great place to be. She was lying on something hard and warm. And that smelled really good. And felt even better.

Jacko.

God.

With a huge effort, Lauren didn’t tighten her arms around him, though she wanted to. Her head was cradled against his shoulder, one arm stretched across his massive chest, the other along a huge biceps. The temptation to snuggle, to get as close to him as humanly possible, was almost irresistible because right now? In his arms? Nothing could touch her.

For the first time in two years, she felt safe.

This was so dangerous. It was a completely false sense of safety, like those kids who couldn’t feel pain and got burned all the time. Safety didn’t exist, would never exist for her. Safety, just staying in Jacko’s arms forever, was like some kind of seductive drug. One that was bad for her, one that—like all drugs—could cost her her life.

He was deeply asleep, the kind of body language that couldn’t be faked. Well, he’d earned it. A full blush bloomed all over at the memory of all the things they’d done. By rights she should be in a semicoma too, but the twin demons of fear and anxiety were waking up in her, stretching their arms, looking around with interest, noticing her new love, faces stretched in evil smiles because they knew it would all be snatched from her very soon.

Like, now.

Because a monster was after her and he would never stop. As long as he was alive, she would never be safe. No one around her would be safe.

Where a moment ago upon waking she’d felt like every cell in her body had been away for a week at the spa, now she felt cold and shriveled. Alone, in the truest sense of the term. More alone than before, because now she knew what it meant to be truly joined to a man. It felt like her previous sexual experiences had been two people politely uniting genitals, not the earth-shattering sex she’d had all night.

She had no idea what the previous night had meant to Jacko. He’d been a more than willing participant, sure, but from the talk in Suzanne’s husband’s company, he was a highly sexed man. A player. So he’d had fun, that was clear, but it was probably business as usual for him.

Not for her, not by a long shot. She had never felt so close to anyone in her life, and it was more than the fact that he’d been inside her almost all night. She’d felt like she was a part of him, felt his heart beating in his chest the way she felt her own, had breathed to his rhythms, had moved with him as if she could read his mind. She certainly felt as if she could read his body.

His body had given her endless cues as to what pleased him. Which had been more or less everything Lauren had done.

She’d been blown away. It was probably a function of her extreme loneliness, but still. It had been overwhelming and she mourned the loss of it. In all likelihood nothing like this would ever happen to her again.

Actually, nothing like this ever
could
happen to her, because she’d have to walk away from it, and once was proving painful enough as it was.

She slipped gently out of bed, slowly, so she wouldn’t wake him. There was no way she could steel herself to say goodbye right now; she was way too shaky, way too connected to him. Every move she made reminded her of him. Her whole body was a map of the night.

A little time, a little distance was what she needed. She also needed a shower. How could she smile and wave goodbye forever when she smelled of him?

Her eyes suddenly welled with tears and she shot into the bathroom, leaning against the sink, looking at herself in the mirror, willing the tears back. She had willpower and she could do this. She could. All it took was not thinking of Jacko. Hard, but possible. Barely.

But not right now.

Lauren bowed her head, staring into the white porcelain sink, and tried to walk herself through the next hour. She’d feed Jacko breakfast—that was only polite. And she’d smile and nod at the things he said, though she probably wouldn’t hear anything over the drumming of her heart. She’d see him to the door, promising that they’d meet on Tuesday for the usual lesson at the community center. He’d been coming for as long as she’d known him, even though he didn’t really need her coaching. He had an instinctive talent.

He’d do just fine without her.

A drop fell from her cheek and she stared at it coursing down the white porcelain side of the sink. Another fell, then another.

This was crazy. Angrily wiping her cheeks, she dropped her dressing gown to the tile floor and stepped under the shower. She made it as hot as she could stand because she was going to wash both her Portland life and Jacko off her skin. Portland left easily but Jacko was harder to eliminate. Though he’d been enormously delicate, he’d left signs. Five faint bruises on either hip, where his hands had gripped her hips. A light red spot, like a circular blush, where he’d sucked and bit the skin of her breast.

She’d nearly had an orgasm from that alone.

Oh God.

Even when she closed her eyes, he was still imprinted on her body. The washcloth between her thighs brushed against sensitive skin that was still swollen, still weeping moisture at the memory of him inside her. She swiped the washcloth over herself there and her knees nearly buckled. She was more aroused at the memory of Jacko than she’d ever been with any of her lovers at the moment of penetration.

How wrong could you be? She’d imagined a pleasant sexy night with Jacko, sort of her goodbye to sex for an unknown period. Maybe forever. She’d imagined the night as a sort of farewell treat for her, some good memories to take along with her as she walked into the darkness.

Who knew it would be so overwhelming? It hadn’t been a treat; it had been something that turned her inside out, changed her profoundly. This wasn’t going to be a fond memory she’d keep with her going forward into her new life. It was like a huge boulder blocking her way, rather than a stepping-stone. Jacko was this enormous presence standing astride her life. Too tall, too broad to go around. Simply there, something she’d have to deal with.

But how?

This was crazy. Choosing her new life, where to go, how to make her living once she got there, how to stay not low-profile but no-profile...all these things would take every ounce of energy and ingenuity she had in her. She shouldn’t—
couldn’t
—spend all this energy dealing with Jacko in her head.

She had to get him out. Get him out of her head, out of her house, get going, without thinking of him at all. It seemed impossible but she had to do this. Simply had to.

The only way to do that was to put all her emotions into a kind of lockbox, seal it away until she was established somewhere else. Then she could pull all these feelings out and try to deal with them. But not now. Being hugely distracted now would be a disaster. Maybe cost her her life.

By the time she dried off, Lauren had herself under control. The control was thin, tenuous, but there. It should see her through today at least. Who knew where she’d be tonight, or tomorrow or the day after that? Wherever it was she landed, she’d deal with Jacko then.

Lauren dressed and stood for an extra moment in the bathroom, facing the closed bathroom door. She straightened her spine and stared at it for a minute. She could do this. She could.

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she opened the door and walked through.

“Hey.” She made her smile broader when she saw Jacko sitting up in bed. It seemed as if his bare shoulders nearly covered the entire headboard. The headboard that had beat against the wall as he pumped inside her.

Pure heat flashed through her body and her knees felt liquid. Thank God she was already pink from the hot shower, so he wouldn’t notice the sudden rush of blood to her face. She hoped. Jacko always surprised her with the things he noticed.

“Hey back.” His voice seemed to penetrate her diaphragm.

She couldn’t get a read on his expression. None at all. His face was impassive, with a slight upturning of his lips, which could be construed as a smile. Sort of.

Maybe her frantic lectures to herself were delusional. Maybe—maybe he was just waiting to get up and go. She didn’t think he regretted the night of sex. But maybe it was just his usual one-night stand. Maybe he was forgetting the night with every passing second.

That would be good. It was be the best possible situation for them both. She could leave knowing she had a good memory but hadn’t turned her back on a new love. And if that thought hurt, just a little, too bad.

He was looking at her, patient and stolid.

“I, um—” Lauren licked dry lips. She nodded at the bathroom. “Go ahead and have a shower and I’ll fix break—breakfast.” Her voice wobbled. She forced her mouth into a smile. “I imagine you usually have a big breakfast. So I’d better—” She waved a hand awkwardly. “Yeah.”

This was terrible. She turned and shot toward the kitchen. Before Jacko got out of bed naked and she could be reminded all over again of what she was leaving behind. Before she burst into tears.

By the time Jacko got out of the shower, breakfast was on the table. Basically Lauren just emptied most of the fridge. She wasn’t going to take any food with her. So Jacko had a four-egg omelet, fried ham, two whole wheat baguettes, a big slice of cheese and hot oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins.