Rev (Jack 'Em Up #4) (19 page)

“It wasn’t ever going to happen. No sparks. At least not on my end.”

I let this mollify me a tad. We had enough sparks to light up Times Square. “Okay. Your turn.”

“Do you want kids?” she asked.

“Yes.” There was a time I thought I’d be a horrible father with all my baggage, but as my friends started having kids, I realized that may not be true. Maybe. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Her answer was simple, but I had a hard time deciphering the emotion hidden beneath it. “How many do you want?”

I thought a moment, weighing my words. I didn’t want to scare her off. “A lot.”

She tilted her head toward mine. “How many is ‘a lot’?”

“You sure you wanna know?”

“No.”

I laughed and kissed her nose. “It’s not
that
bad.”

“Okay. How many?”

“Maybe six?”

“Six?” She sounded as shocked as I figured she’d be.

“Or seven.”

She shifted away toward the window. “Wow.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. I’m not your wife. Those won’t be my kids.” Her voice was soft, vulnerable.

The first thought that ripped through my head was denial. Of course those would be her kids. Our kids. But I held my words back, not wanting to frighten her with my intensity.

We were quiet a moment, then she said, “Your turn.”

“Are you scared of him?” I asked the question that had been ricocheting around my mind since I found her trembling in the parking lot talking to the police.

She paused, thinking. “Yes and no. Yes, because I know what he’s capable of, and no, because I’m stronger than I was. I’ll never cower like that again. To anyone.”

I kissed her shoulder. “I’m glad.”

She went for the jugular. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes.”

She tensed, but didn’t say a word.

“Twice. Jessica Royce, fifth grade . . . and now.”

Jewel did not move, barely breathed. “Are you serious?” she finally asked.

“Very. Jessica was my first kiss, you know.”

She rolled and faced me, tears quivering in her eyes like pools of light.

I leaned in, my hand cupping her head. “I’m serious.”

“Oh.” She curled into me so close I could hardly tell where I ended and she began. “I think . . . me, too.”

An emotion I’d never felt before rose up in my chest and lingered like a bubble, ready to pop. It floated there, almost painfully, then burst to bathe my insides with contentment like I’d never known. It was all suddenly so clear. Everything in my life, everything, had led me to this moment, to this woman. She was it for me, always had been.

My hand grazed down her waist and hip, as far as I could reach with the hold she had on me. I caressed, hiking up her gown to feel the flesh of her thigh. She gasped but relaxed into my hold. I slid the material a tiny bit higher, waiting for her to stop me.

“Micah . . .” My name was a breathless plea on her lips.

I nudged her to her back and used a finger to draw her gown to the tops of both thighs then caressed down to one knee. “Will you let me touch you?”

Her eyes slid closed. “Yes.”

I slid up to sitting, the hem of her gown in my hand. “Stop me anytime. I’ll never hurt you, I swear it.”

Her eyes met mine, mirroring my own hunger. “I know.”

She shifted and let me lift her nightgown off, exposing her bare flesh only covered in skimpy panties now. I gently uncrossed her arms, where she’d moved to cover her breasts. “Please don’t. You’re beautiful.”

Slowly, her arms fell away. I cupped one breast, ran my thumb along the nipple. She moaned softly and I experimented with the perfect, full weight of them. I leaned down and suckled one into my mouth and her back bowed off the bed.

I took my time learning all I could of her body. Her breathy reactions to my touch, my tongue. What gave her goosebumps, what made her cry out. She was a masterclass in erotic perfection.

I slid her panties down her legs and tossed them to the floor with her gown. Straddling her legs, I ran my hands up her sides, memorizing the feel of her, indulging in every dip and curve. She lifted her arms above her head and gripped my headboard, giving me the gift of her trust. I planted open-mouthed kisses between her breasts, to her ribs, stomach, her hips. I traced my fingertips down her legs, following with my mouth. I was on a mission to erase every touch from another man from her memory.

She was mine now.

Her legs spread a fraction as I made my way back up, her body pliant beneath my hands. “Please, Micah.”

“Say it again,” I whispered, my breath brushing her intimately. I nuzzled her with my nose.

“Please . . .” She writhed beneath me.

“My name.” I dipped my tongue to taste her, to tease.

“Micah!” Her hands were suddenly fisted in my hair as I dove into her sweetness. And, God, she was sweet.

I kissed and suckled and lapped at her until she was panting above me, her hips grinding to meet my mouth. I felt her tremble as she teetered on the edge, but held herself back. But I wanted it. I wanted it all.

I added my fingers, curling into her as I made love to her with my mouth. She detonated with a cry, convulsing around me. I’d never seen anything more glorious.

I pressed one last kiss to her thigh then crawled up her body to kiss her lips. Her contented moan vibrated against my mouth as she wrapped her arms around me. She was sated and relaxed and loose in my arms. I scooted us until we were spooned again then nuzzled the back of her neck. “Goodnight, baby. Sweet dreams.”

She murmured a goodnight back to me as her breathing deepened. She was at peace and that gave me peace. I didn’t need anything more.

Jewel

I
woke up in Micah’s arms again, but this time there were no nightmares. Only peace. Beautiful peace. I rolled gently and faced him. Coal black lashes shadowed his stubbled cheeks. His face was relaxed, almost childlike, in sleep. I’d never seen him so content.

I let my gaze slide down his chiseled body, to caress his chest, his abs, that incredible V of his hips, where his boxers rode low. My mind grappled with everything that had happened. Micah opening up to me, telling me his secret torment. Nolan showing up again. The fact that this beautiful man had told me he was in love with me—I still had a hard time believing that one, even after the way he’d worshipped my body last night. There was no other way to describe the exquisite way he’d touched me. My cheeks flamed as I remembered how he’d played me like an instrument, bringing out a tune I never knew my soul could sing. And I hadn’t returned the favor.

My eyes lifted to his face. He was awake and staring at me now.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was coated with the barbs of sleep.

“Nothing. I’m just . . . I’m sorry. About last night.” I stammered and hated it.

“You’re sorry?” His gaze was pained.

“Not about that . . . I mean, I’m sorry I fell asleep before . . .”

He softened and caressed my arm. “Don’t be sorry. That was the most perfect night of my life.”

“Really?”

“It was spectacular. Don’t be sorry. I’m not.”

I felt the evidence of how perfect it was pressed against my hip. “Even if . . . ?”

His half-grin made me melty. “Even if. There’s plenty of time for that. When you’re ready.”

I leaned in and kissed him. “Thank you.”

He nodded and rolled to sitting with a yawn. “You okay with going in to work a little early this morning? Blake told me a rush job was dropped at the shop yesterday that he needs me to start on right away.”

“Sure.”

I watched him rise and pad to his dresser and yank on a T-shirt. “You can borrow one of my shirts if you want.”

“Why would I borrow a shirt?”

He winked. “I wanna see you in it. Come on, gorgeous. We have time for breakfast first.” He walked out, leaving me gaping.

Slowly, I rose and moved to his dresser. I opened the top drawer and found socks and boxers. I moved on to the second drawer. Bingo. I rifled through shop shirts and a couple concert T-shirts, until I found a pile of plain white ones on the bottom. I grabbed the last one and my hand brushed something metal that clanked against the wood of the dresser as I drew the shirt out. I moved the other clothes out of the way.

Dog tags.

I drew out his tags and flipped the cool metal over in my hand, reading the inscription. His name, social security number, blood type, and religious preference. Pain sliced through me as I realized what these were for. It could’ve just as easily been him that was killed in Afghanistan then we wouldn’t have this chance we have now.

I squeezed his tags tightly as my eyes slid closed and I tried to picture an existence without him in it.

“What are you doing?”

My eyes popped open and my heart thumped at his angry words. “Nothing. I was just getting a shirt like you told me. I found these . . .” The painful fire in his eyes took me back. “I’m sorry.”

“Put them back,” he bit out. “Please.”

“But—”

“I told you I don’t like to remember. Just because I trusted you with the truth doesn’t mean I want to rehash it.”

“Fine.” I slid them back and slammed the drawer closed. I tossed the shirt I’d selected onto the bed. “I’m gonna get ready for work. I’ll drive myself today.” I turned away from him as angry tears filled my eyes.

“You will not.” His words were softer, but still held an edge.

I faced him. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Then don’t. We agreed. I’m driving you.” He spun away and strode down the hall again.

I stood there listening to him slam around the kitchen. I knew he was emotional and that I’d never fully understood what he’d experienced, but I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought he said he loved me. Why would he shut me out now? I stupidly found myself envious of his military friends. They were the only ones who truly knew him, what haunted him, and I desperately wanted to.

Confused as hell, I dug through my bag, found some clean clothes, and yanked them on. I ran a brush through my hair then met him in the kitchen. He seemed calmer as he sipped a shake, his gaze unfocused. When he heard me, he straightened and set his drink down.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

“Okay.” I brushed past him and, in an act of rebellion, reached past him for the box of Pop-Tarts. I ripped open a package and took a big bite.

He just stared at me, his eyes inscrutable. “You’re pissed.” He stated the obvious, which only made me madder.

“Gee. What makes you say that?” I shoved another bite in my mouth, a bit surprised at my own behavior. I’d never acted like this before. I’d always been more of a put-up and shut-up kinda girl.

He spun away and chugged the last of his disgusting green concoction then snatched up his keys. “Ready?”

I gaped. “You’re really not going to say anything?”

He paused but didn’t face me. “You said you didn’t want to fight.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind.” It felt good to raise my voice.

His head dropped. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I just can’t, okay?”

I frowned at his back, utterly confused. Then it dawned on me. He wasn’t ready to go back to the war, even in his mind. He’d given me what he could and here I was yelling at him. I was the world’s biggest jerk.

I hugged him from behind. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

He spun and hugged me back. “Don’t be sorry, baby. I understand. I told you I’m not the easiest guy to be around, but I hope you’ll be patient with me. I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

He kissed the crown of my head. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

We stepped outside and he locked the door behind us. “You need something to eat or will that Pop Tart hold you?” He was smirking.

“Sugar and carbs will hold me just fine, thank you.”