SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... (27 page)

When Aline went off to college, Corey's stuff was moved into her room, which was larger, and a set of twin beds appeared. After that Jax went home only on weekends.

Corey was no match for Jax physically but he was so honestly thrilled by Jax's athletic accomplishments that it never seemed to matter. Corey and his father and often his mother attended every game Jax played in high school.

With Corey's parents to oversee homework, Jax's grades improved, and the number of his fights tapered off. If he was no match physically, Corey was more than able to challenge Jax intellectually, and it was Corey who dreamed up many of the elaborate practical jokes that instead of fights now necessitated trips to the headmaster's office.

"After Corey's funeral it was like I could hear people talking from a long way off and they kept telling me things like what a great guy Corey was. And I'm thinking, what the hell am I supposed to say? He's dead, don't you get it, he's dead!"

"You were shattered by his death. That's kind of hard to work into funeral chitchat."

"No kidding. Shattered, yeah, that's a good word for it. Nothing made any sense, like the meaning of everything had been broken into a million pieces." He was silent for a minute, looking into a past only he could see. "My dad took me to the country club for dinner. That's where we would meet, you know. Until I went to college we had the same address. I started to say we lived in the same house but I didn't live there, and I don't think he did either. There was a dining room in that house, and a breakfast room, but I can't ever remember having a meal with him except at the club or some restaurant.

"I wasn't really listening, he was just disapproving of the courses I had taken, and then he was talking about how transferring my college credits wouldn't be any problem, and I started paying attention.

"He had this plan that I would transfer to an Ivy League school. He said he was sure Corey's death bothered me, but it was just as well that he had died because our relationship had gone on long enough. It was time to put 'all that' behind me and start being a man. Corey, he said, had been holding me back.

"He talked, and I know this is stupid, but I realized for the first time he thought I should be like
him.
And I already looked like him. I made up my mind right then I would never be like him. I made up my mind to get as far away as I could from his definitions of importance and success.

"I went out the next morning and joined the Navy."

"That's when you became a SEAL?"

"That's not exactly how it works. Qualifying for SEAL training is a long process, but yes, Corey and I had talked about being SEALs. He always knew there wasn't a chance in hell for him. As long as he was alive ..." Jax let the sentence die. "But he was gone. The day I joined the Navy I knew I was damn well going to do it. I was going to be a SEAL, no matter what I had to go through to do it."

"Because your father wouldn't approve."

"Nah. That was icing on the cake. It was because it was what I wanted to do more than anything in the world. In fact it was the only thing I wanted to do."

Patterson lumbered up from his favorite place in the hall, sneezed, stretched, and padded over to press his snout under Pickett's hand.

Pickett fondled the yellow velvet ears. "You're ready for us to go to bed, aren't you? You're right. It's late." She craned her head around. "Where's Lucy?"

"I heard her go upstairs." Jax grinned. "I think she's in bed with Tyler."

Jax might be amused by Lucy's choice of bed partner but Pickett wasn't. It wouldn't do to give Tyler a false sense of permanence. Already he was showing signs of attaching himself to the idea of living in this house. God knew he probably needed something to cling to, but if he were allowed to become attached to her house and dogs he would just feel doubly betrayed and bereft when he had to leave.

Jax's hand slid, warm and hard, under the hair at her nape. His fingers pressed against her skull to turn her face toward him. His eyes, usually cool and distant, were glittering with heat. "Go to bed with me."

It was not quite a command, but not a question either. Something aching with emptiness, yet warm with the promise of being filled, shot from her throat to her thighs. Her mouth opened involuntarily as she found herself leaning toward him.

This was desire. This melting in which her whole body screamed "yes!" without a single thought. She'd never wanted a man before, not like this. Saying no was cool and easy and automatic when she was only mildly tempted.

But the very force of attraction to Jax was also its own braking mechanism. She worried about Tyler getting attached, but she knew if she went to bed with Jax, letting him go would be terribly hard.

And go, he would. Even if he offered her undying love, which he had not, he was a SEAL. Go was what he did.

The caressing fingers on the back of her neck became more insistent.

"I want you. You want me."

Was he really pulling her closer or did she just feel as if the distance between them was disappearing? There was a reason not to do this but she couldn't think of what it was. She said the first thing that popped into her mind. "I haven't had my dinner date yet."

The heat did not disappear from his eyes but she recognized the cool look of assessment. "You want me."

There wasn't any point in denying it. Pickett nodded.

"But the dinner is important to you. Why?" Funny how he could make a request for information sound like a command.

"I don't know exactly. I guess I'm not willing to be just a convenience to you. A quick stop at a service station along the road of life."

Jax's eyes suddenly gleamed with humor. "That metaphor needs some work in terms of who puts what where."

Pickett thought about it and giggled. Lord, she loved his quick grasp of things. She even liked how he pushed her, didn't make it easy for her. So his next words surprised her.

"If it's important to you, then it's important. What's the name of the fanciest restaurant in Wilmington? I'll make reservations for tomorrow night." He stood with the fluid movement so characteristic of him and pulled her to her feet and into his arms in one movement. "Now I am going to kiss you."

And he did. Just how much he had been holding back was suddenly abundantly clear. He held her so that she was pressed full length against him. One hand cradled and controlled her head while the other scooped up her bottom to press her mound hotly against his erection. The difference in their strengths had never been so apparent as when he held her off the floor with one hand while moving with blatant intent against her.

He covered her face with kisses, biting at her lips then thrusting his tongue into her mouth in time with the movement of his hips.

He tasted like beer and hot, dark masculinity and determination.

Pickett used her arms to pull herself closer, to ease the sudden need to rub her breasts against the solid wall of his chest.

The fingers of the hand cupping her bottom slid along the cleft, increasing both sensation and need with a jolt that stiffened Pickett with surprise. A second later she would have pressed herself more deeply against the hand, but he was already ending the kiss, sliding her body down his, but putting off letting her go till the last possible second.

He steadied her with one hand on either hip until she found her balance, then rested his cheek against her hair, as he fought to bring his ragged breathing under control. Abruptly he stepped away and rubbed his hair in a short, sharp gesture. "There. Now you know how I've felt for the last four damn days."

Inexperienced or not, Pickett knew that seconds more of that searing kiss and she would have been in bed, on the couch, on the floor, whatever it took to answer the need that flowed between them like a living entity with a will of its own. He had started the kiss and he had ended it. It was with a poignant sense of loss that she acknowledged that he had done what she'd said she wanted.

If she took him in her arms now, what would happen?
No,
the same doubts were there. She took refuge, as she often did, in attending to the needs of others.

"When you go upstairs to take Tyler to the bathroom, make sure you send Lucy to me."

"I'm going to get him up to go to the bathroom?" She tasted like grapes and smelled like violets, and aroused woman, and her lips were swollen and red from his kisses, but there was no doubt, Bossy was back. She retreated into bossi-ness to set her world back in order after he'd rocked it. The sudden insight made him smile and kick up one straight eyebrow.

"Yes." She gave him a stern look that was belied by the dimple at the corner of her mouth. "That is your job and not mine. No really, think how bad he would feel if he wet his new bed the first night he slept in it. And I'm afraid if he did wake up, he wouldn't know where he was and it would scare him. So go get him."

Jax pulled up the pajama bottoms of his sleepy son and flushed the toilet. Sure enough, when he stood at the toilet, he had obligingly used it even though he hadn't really woken up. He lifted the soft little body to his shoulder and climbed the stairs.

He'd read in that book about getting children up in the night, but he'd forgotten. There seemed to be a lot to this fatherhood business. But Pickett knew Tyler would need to go. And she remembered because she'd thought of Tyler's feelings, not because she was worried about the sheets.

He shifted the limp weight of his son higher up his chest and felt Tyler nestle into him. Tyler did this when he was a baby, so trusting, as if his father's arms were the best place in the world.

With a pang, Jax realized he couldn't remember carrying a sleeping Tyler since he was a baby. Once it was time for Tyler to sleep, it had been time for Jax to leave, or to take him back to his mother's.

Being with Tyler all day and all night without the hovering, nervous presence of his mother, or that bitch of a grandmother, was a revelation. His kid was funny, bright, inquisitive, and, once he was allowed to forget about the designer clothes, all boy.

He placed Tyler in the center of the wide bed and drew up the sheet. It was still amazingly warm for the middle of October, but at least it had been possible to turn off the air conditioning and open the windows. A breeze was coming in and the room would be cool by morning. He pulled up the soft blanket and tucked it around his son as well.

As he turned toward the door Pickett's voice floated up the stairs. "No, Lucy. You cannot sleep with Tyler. I know you want to, but the answer is no." She was talking to the dogs. He smiled to himself. Just like she thought they would understand every word.

He went to the top of the stairs. "Would it be all right for Lucy to sleep with Tyler? I was thinking about what you said. He might be afraid if he woke up in the night. Having Lucy would help."

A little vertical crease appeared between her brows. Had he transgressed into Boss territory?

"Tyler looks so little lying in that big bed," Jax added.

Her expression was serious but she let go of the straining dog's collar. "Okay, Lucy. Go to Tyler."

Toes scrabbling for purchase, ears flying, the small mixed breed raced up the stairs.

"Thank you."

Pickett nodded in acknowledgment. "Good night."