This Crazy Love: Swoon Series, page 12
Whatever I meant to say was lost in my low moan when two fingers stroked inside of me as he brought his mouth to me, licking into my core. I cried out, the pleasure so piercing, it almost hurt. He settled into a steady rhythm with his fingers as he licked through my folds, his tongue teasing over my clit.
He proceeded to make me lose my mind. Everything blurred, all of my focus narrowing to the feel of his fingers and his mouth working over the most vulnerable part of me. As exposed as I felt, I couldn’t stop the sensation spinning me into a wild storm of need, desire, and pulsing intimacy catching me in its center.
My release rushed over me when he swirled his tongue around my clit, giving it the slightest bit of suction. I cried out roughly, gripping his hair in one hand and the sheets in the other, my entire body shuddering so deeply it felt as if my bones were liquid.
Then, he was rising up, his mouth and hands making another slow exploration of my body on the way back up. As his weight settled over me, he tensed slightly.
“Be right back. Condom,” he murmured, his voice tight as he started to roll away.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m on the pill.” I didn’t want him to go anywhere.
Jackson froze where he was half-rolled off me, and I held him in place with my legs.
“It’s your call,” he said, his voice low.
“I know. But it’s just me. And it’s you, so…”
“It’s your call,” he repeated, “not mine.” He paused, the silence abruptly heavy. “I’ve never had sex without a condom.”
“Never?”
He shook his head and shrugged. “No ma’am. You knew my dad. He was a blunt man. Gave me the lecture of a lifetime when I was old enough to have sex, and scared the bejesus out of me.”
I almost smiled because I remembered his father, so straightforward and direct. I could imagine he went out of his way to make sure Jackson used protection.
“And you knew my mom. She was all about making sure I started birth control before I ever had sex. The pill’s kind of a thing for me too. Clint didn’t want me to take it, so…” The topic had suddenly gotten serious, and Jackson’s eyes narrowed.
“Sometime, you’re gonna tell me a little bit more about what happened.” His voice was low, his tone laced with anger.
Emotion slammed into me. I didn’t want this moment to be tangled up with my past. “It’s over. Forget about it.”
Jackson was quiet, his eyes on mine, the blue even brighter in the wispy light of dawn. A sliver of sun crested above the horizon, a narrow ray angling through the window to the wall across from the bed.
“Okay,” Jackson finally said, dipping his head and pressing hot, damp kisses along my shoulder and up the side of my neck. The soft touches set my nerves alight, sensation tingling all over.
Then, his weight was settling over me again, his cock sliding through my slick folds. One of his hands curled around mine where it rested on the pillow beside my head, his grip strong and sure. On an exhalation, he sheathed himself inside of me, filling me and stretching me in a slow surge.
He held still once he was buried within me, but my body was restless, my hips bucking into him. He muttered my name with a rough growl before drawing back and sinking in deeply. The angle was such that the pressure was just above my clit, teasing and sending piercing streaks of pleasure through me. It was already swollen, over-sensitized from the madness he wrought with his lips and tongue.
A few more slow thrusts, and I was already flying apart inside, the pressure spinning loose and scattering like hot sparks. I cried his name, my pussy throbbing and clenching around his cock. His release filled me in a surge of heat as he went taut over me, my name a muffled cry.
He fell against me, but shifted quickly, rolling us over in the bed so I was lying on top of him again. I held still, my heart thudding hard and fast inside my body as I listened to the answering beat of his own against my ear.
Later that morning, I groomed Mischief with a soft brush after we spent a good half an hour together in the paddock with a lunging lead. Although he was spirited, he settled quickly once he adjusted to something new. He’d stopped constantly biting at the saddle pad on his back and had decreased his chewing on the rubber snaffle bit.
I was anxious to start riding him, but I knew we needed to move slowly. He liked being groomed. It was clear he’d be happy to have someone pay attention to him all the time. His wild edge was definitely there, but he was so affectionate by nature that it helped. When it came to training, that was a major plus.
He turned his head, expectantly looking for one of the molasses grain treats I’d gotten in the habit of giving him after we finished grooming. I fished one out of my pocket and handed it over, rubbing his forehead as he chewed it.
“You ready to go see your friends?” I asked conversationally. Ever since I was a little girl, I had talked to animals as if they were people. It was a habit I couldn’t seem to break. As I turned, a shadow caught the corner of my eye, and I flinched, freezing in place.
Yet again, a small trigger sent me spinning into a brief flashback. That night—the worst night of them all, when Clint raped me—I had been at home, standing at the end of the hallway in our condominium. I usually avoided Clint as best I could. I remembered seeing his shadow flickering in the corner of my vision and sensing his anger from a distance. Perhaps it was because I was so attuned to it, but somehow, I had known he was simmering with rage that night.
“Hey, Shay,” Wade called as he rounded the corner of the aisle between the stalls.
I took a deep breath, willing my pulse to slow down.
“Hey, Wade,” Jackson’s voice called from right behind him.
It was only then I realized if I hadn’t been temporarily frozen in fear, I likely would’ve heard Jackson’s footsteps on the stairs from the vet offices above.
Wade glanced over his shoulder, grinning as Jackson followed him into the aisle. Jackson’s eyes landed on mine. His gaze was assessing, coasting over me. He didn’t say anything, but even from a good twenty feet away, I could sense he picked up on my brief moment of distress.
I looked away, focusing my attention on Mischief. I didn’t have to worry about him or my reactions. He was easy. I stroked my palm down the side of his neck and unclipped the lead where he was hooked up for grooming.
“I was just about to take him outside,” I said as I turned, walking toward where Jackson and Wade were standing. Wade had hooked his elbow over the edge of an empty stall, while Jackson leaned against the wall at an angle, idly kicking against the dirt floor with the heel of his boot.
Wade grinned as I passed by him with Mischief. Jackson didn’t say anything, his eyes tracking me intently.
It had taken me most of the morning to pull myself together after the way I woke up with him. I was still crystal clear about where things stood with us. I had no expectations. The problem was my heart was making a bit of a racket about it. I was worried I might start to want something other than nothing when it came to Jackson.
Slightly rattled and shaken from my brief flashback, I kept my hand on Mischief’s neck, taking comfort from his presence, as we walked through the archway and gate into the small paddock that led into the larger pasture. Slipping his halter off, I scrubbed behind his ears, a favorite spot for him. He leaned his head into my chest and made a rumbling sound in his throat, the pony equivalent of a purr.
“Go have fun with your friends,” I said. As soon as I opened the gate, he trotted through, his tail high and his ears forward. His coat gleamed under the sun. I knew my grooming was a waste of time because he loved to roll in the dirt, but that didn’t change the fact I enjoyed it. It was as much for me as it was for him.
Returning to the barn, I found Jackson and Wade chatting about supplies. I headed upstairs to the office after I quickly returned Mischief’s halter and lead to the tack room. I practically ran out of there like a scalded cat. My encounter with Jackson in there had seared itself in my memory. I couldn’t set foot inside without a vivid recollection of the feel of his mouth working over mine and his fingers sliding into my wet core.
Chapter Twenty-One
Shay
The office was starting to feel a little bit like mine, although I’d never had my own office, so I didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. Until after things were over with Clint, I hadn’t realized the depth of the effect his isolation had on my life.
When I first became involved with Clint, I hadn’t seen the darkness hiding under Clint’s polished surface. My life gradually narrowed to college classes and the job I had waiting tables for extra spending money. Clint had wanted me to change my hours, even though the tips were better at night. I went along with it because I didn’t care to argue.
That was only the beginning of how limited my life became. By the end, just about everything outside of Clint had been whittled away.
I shook those thoughts away. The one thing he hadn’t tried to steal from me was my education. It wouldn’t have been helpful for his reputation to be connected to a woman who didn’t have a good college degree. I had graduated summa cum laude with a degree in Computer Science.
I’d yet to have a chance to use my degree, although I figured it might come in handy for this job if I could do some work with the website. Beyond that, I loved organizing things, and there was more than enough for me to organize when it came to the office and administrative tasks. Jackson hadn’t been lying when he said this area of the business had been neglected.
I’d taken the framework Dani created for the lodge reservations and applied it here for the vet clinic scheduling. That had been the easy part. The billing, the supply ordering, and all the rest were a bit of a train wreck.
I settled into work quietly. Fortunately, I had enough to focus on that I couldn’t really dwell on Jackson. Another hour or so later, I recalled my promise to Dani that I would help with some cooking prep. The lodge occasionally hosted events for locals who reserved the restaurant. Although she had temporary staff to use, she told me she wanted the company.
I saved my work in the computer and made sure everything was put away. With it being spring in western North Carolina, evenings were getting warmer but they were still cool once the sun slipped behind the mountains. I snagged a lightweight windbreaker off the hook on the back of the door and headed over. When I stepped out of the office, I could hear Jackson’s voice coming down the hallway from one of the vet examination rooms.
“So, you think he’s okay?” a female voice asked, a coquettish lilt to it.
I paused in the doorway in the office, hating the fact that I wanted to listen.
“He’s doing just fine,” Jackson replied, his tone even and low and so damn sexy. I’d never been turned on by a man’s voice before, but Jackson’s struck a chord deep inside of me.
“Thank you so much, Jackson,” the woman said.
I heard the sound of running water and presumed he was rinsing his hands in the sink beside the examination table. “Anytime. He’s not due in for another six months, given how well he’s handled his recovery from his hip surgery. So, just give the office a call to schedule.”
“Oh, you’re not scheduling your own appointments anymore?”
“Oh no. I handed that off. Shay Martin is our office manager now and handles all that.”
A little buzz of joy spun through me at how officially he described my role. It seemed small, but it was monumental for me.
“Shay Martin? She was in the news, right?”
The moment the woman said my name, I knew she knew who I was. Anxiety tightened in my chest. Even though this wasn’t my hometown, this was a small area. When Clint got arrested for his assault against me, and then within weeks for his DUI after the accident that killed two people, his name was splashed in the papers all over North Carolina. Seeing as his father was a long-time state politician, and Clint and I were dating, my name had been in the news as well.
I heard Jackson moving because I recognized the tread of his footsteps. That was how bad I had it.
“Yes, Shay Martin. Do you know her?” he asked.
“Well, it’s hard not to know her. She was all over the news with everything that happened with Clint Glover. If you ask me, I still think it’s up for debate how she fabricated those assault charges,” the woman said primly.
I felt sick and suddenly weary. I had heard this line of thinking far too much.
There was a moment of dead silence. “Shay works here now. She’s an old friend. I can’t believe you would assume it’s any woman’s responsibility when someone beats the hell out of her. This wasn’t a ‘he said, she said’ situation,” he said flatly.
Jackson’s voice was low and dangerous. I knew he was furious. I abruptly moved back into the office, out of sight, when I heard them step into the hallway.
“Oh, I didn’t mean any harm. You know, just all speculation and so many rumors. It’s hard to know what to believe,” the woman said dismissively.
My line of sight offered a view of her hand, reaching out to curl around his upper arm. Although it wasn’t blatant, the vibe she gave off was flirtatious.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Jackson didn’t reply. “Right that way to the parking lot,” he said, his tone curt. It was clear as day he wanted her gone.
“Of course. I’ll call to schedule.”
I heard her footsteps moving in the direction of the door to the parking lot. Her dog’s claws clicked on the vinyl tile as they moved away.
I suddenly felt exhausted. In the aftermath of Clint’s arrest, I had endured weeks of media scrutiny. We were living in Chapel Hill at the time, one town over from Raleigh, the state capital, where Clint’s father reigned supreme. Reporters had camped out to snap pictures of me when I came and went from the condominium. Speculation ran rampant about what had led to him chasing me out of our condo and throwing me against the pavement.
Whether it was luck, fate, or my personal guardian angel, a witness who saw the start of the assault took photographs and caught some of it on video on their smartphone. Without that, Clint probably never would’ve been charged. Even then, I was still quite convinced he was only in jail now because of the DUI and the deadly accident.
I hoped and prayed Jackson thought I had left. I had no easy way out of here right now. I had left the office door open. If I closed it now, it would be obvious I was here. I simply leaned against the wall and breathed quietly.
I felt his presence before I saw him. “So, when she calls to schedule, do not give her an appointment,” he said from the doorway.
I looked over. I didn’t know how to read his expression. It was controlled, and I could see the lines of tension in his shoulders.
“You don’t need to lose clients on account of me.”
“Shay, whether you’re here or not, I’m not gonna listen to bullshit rumors about you.” He stepped into the office. I had turned off the light, leaving the room cast in the smudgy light of dusk. The hallway light angled across his face as he stepped in front of me, leaning his hands on the wall on either side of me. “You hear me?” he asked, his voice low but gentle.
I couldn’t speak through the emotion tightening in my throat, so I simply nodded. My hands were balled into fists in my pockets.
Jackson appeared to be considering something, and then he dipped his head, quickly pressing a kiss to my lips. It was brief, but hot, sending a zing of electricity straight through my system.
“Dani tells me she rounded you up to help with dinner tonight,” he said as he stepped back. All I could do was nod again. “I’ll walk over with you.”
That’s how we ended up walking together over the slight rise through the trees, his presence strong and steady beside me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jackson
I held tight to the rope as I rappelled down. “I’m there,” I called up to Dawson in the darkness.
“Got a hold on you,” Dawson called down in reply.
It was dark and raining. After Shay and I walked over for dinner at the lodge, the clouds hanging low on the horizon all afternoon had let loose the rain. Dawson and I were on call for Stolen Hearts Valley Emergency Response, and a call came in just as dinner was winding down.
While everyone else was planning to relax with a few drinks after dinner, we grabbed our gear and took off. A car leaving a nearby local bar had driven off the side of a cliff on one of the sharp turns along one of the many winding roads through the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Although the eastern mountains had lower elevation and held you close in the embrace of their hills and valleys, they tempted people to make reckless decisions. With their less stark and forbidding presence in relation to the mountains out west, people could be tricked into thinking they weren’t dangerous. Yet, we had roads winding in the craziest places, deep in the mountains.
When the weather was bad, or when people were stupid, or perhaps a little drunk—which was my guess, seeing as this car had left a bar—sometimes bad accidents happened. I was familiar with this road, so even though it was dark, I had a sense of what we were dealing with. The car in question had come to a stop just below a tangle of trees where the steep cliff face shifted into more sloping terrain.
I loosened the excess rope on my end so I could slide down a little further. Cool spring rain pelted my face. Once I got my footing amongst the trees, I carefully looked around to see what we were dealing with. I was calm inside, although there was always a bit of adrenaline.
The car was cradled at an angle on its side in a nest of kudzu vines in the trees. The driver was unconscious when I peeked through the broken window. The single passenger on the far side was conscious, but bleeding. I could see the trickle of blood running down her hairline and cuts along her arm.
