Salvaging Love, page 21
“You love me?”
“Yes, Jackson Kincaid,” she said. “I love you.”
“Jesus Christ, but you are so fucking beautiful. You’re made of steel. My strong beauty,” he rasped out, tightened his arms around her and pulled her flush against his body. “Never thought in a million years I’d find a love as amazing as yours, Ellie.” He caressed her back, pushing in deep with his hands.
Beautiful and strong. Never in a million years would she have believed those words belonged to her, but he made her feel that way.
“I love you so fucking much. Still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
She placed her lips on his. “We deserve each other, Jackson. We fill each other up. We were made for each other. That’s all that matters, not our pasts, not anything we did or didn’t do, but how much we love each other. You are the most amazing man I know, strong, loyal, warm, compassionate, sexy as hell and—”
“Hard.” He pulled her even tighter against his body.
“Jackson!” She snuggled closer, let out all the tension she’d been holding on to and swatted him on the shoulder. “This is not a joking matter.”
He stood with her in his arms. “Not joking, babe,” he said and walked her to their bedroom. “You, your body, your love, it affects me. I want you even when you’re away from me. Love you so much.” He peeled her shirt over her head, laid her back on the bed and followed, his body flush against hers. She loved the heat of him covering her. Her skin tingled like a hundred butterflies were kissing her.
“Fucking love this body.” He unhooked her bra and tossed it behind him and kissed her right between her breasts. “Love this gorgeous heart of yours,” he said.
And she nearly cried, her emotions overflowing and sensitive, but then he brought both hands up to cradle her head and kissed her, for minutes, for hours. She was lost. His tongue tangled with hers. He worked her scrubs and panties off. God, the feel of his big hands on her. “Can’t quit touching this silky skin. Every part of you, so soft and strong at the same time. Fucking love how hard you make me.” She loved it too, boy, did she love it.
Now she was naked, and his hard, jean-covered hips rubbed into her sensitive flesh, teasing her clit. His T-shirt brushed her nipples into hard peaks. She wanted him naked too, but she relished the knowledge that he could make her come like this with all his clothes on.
“Gonna make you come so I can watch you. Then I’m gonna make you come again. Show you with my body how much I love you,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “Tell me what you need, babe?” He rubbed one nipple between his fingers and rotated his hips into her, agonizingly slowly. It was the best kind of lust-filled torture ever. He put his hot mouth on her nipple and tugged with his teeth.
“Jackson,” she rasped out. “That. I need that.”
He caressed the skin of her hips. She’d never known that spot could be so erotic. Everywhere he touched her sent sparks right to her core, building up an inferno.
He moved to the other nipple, flirting with his tongue before he grazed over it with his teeth. Then he moved up her sensitive body, rubbing his entire body over hers again. He nipped her lip and kissed her hard, possessing. Then he took her arms and held then down above her head while he rocked against her core, back and forth, the scrape of his jeans a sweet torture.
“Jackson. I need you. I need you touching me, kissing me, loving me.”
“Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Ellie,” he said. She met his gaze, her arms still above her head. Her body relaxed, and she smiled, a smile she knew that bloomed with love for him. He stood and stripped, like he couldn’t get naked fast enough. She wrapped her arms around him and with one thrust he pushed his way inside her.
“Oh,” she sighed and angled her body into his, while arching her head back. It was too much and not enough together. He was everything. They belonged to each other.
“Look at me, babe,” he said, taking his time sliding back out before thrusting in again. “Get ready. Because I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Hey, George,” Ellie said and held the back door to the clinic open to let him in. “Raining hard out there tonight. You want to sleep on one of the cots in the break room? I’ve got coffee on.”
“Appreciate it, girl. Like a banshee out there tonight. A river pouring out of the sky and the wind is relentless. Hate to bother you.”
Ellie smiled. “You know you’re no bother. Besides, I’m here overnight and I hate being alone. You make yourself at home, I still have work to do.”
“Thanks, darlin’.”
Ellie finished her charts and was taking notes on the way the new sutures were working when her phone rang. “Hey, honey,” she said and smiled into the phone at Jackson, as if he could see her through the lines.
“Babe. Bringing you dinner and Chewie. He misses his mama and his Buffy. He’s been like a lump for the past two days and glued to my side.”
“That sounds awesome. I miss you guys too. I promise to find another vet to help me soon.”
Since the mistrial, Jackson had started helping Duggan here at the renovation project, which was good because Ellie’s clinic was crazy busy so she got to see him for lunch. And most mornings they came to work together, which she loved. She loved everything. A fool in love and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Aside from the long hours she worked, everything was awesome.
Well, almost. Jackson had been unsuccessful at getting Sasha, aka Victoria Lucciano, to speak with him. The last time he’d put in a message to Sasha’s attorney and had been turned down, Ellie had suggested maybe Sasha needed time. She hoped she was right.
“Be there in fifteen. Love you,” he said. And her smile got bigger. Every Thursday or Friday, whichever ended up being her overnight, for the past four weeks he’d brought her dinner and stayed with her. Although, she’d prefer being in their soft king-size bed over the sleeping at the clinic any day.
“Love you too, honey.” She put her files away and went to take the garbage bags out to the dumpster. Passing George, she could see him asleep on one of the cots and she reminded herself to cover him with a blanket.
Lost in a happy, tired daze, she pushed open the back door and had one foot outside when someone shoved her back with two hands. The force crashed her flat on her back, smacking her head against the cement floor. Pain shot through her skull, down her back, and both arms zinged from the force through her elbows. Before she could scream, a man climbed on top of her and pinned her down, smacking her head back into the hard surface again. She blinked and almost lost consciousness. Scream, she thought, but one of the man’s hands covered her neck, forcing her down with enough force that she thought he might break her windpipe.
Choking, she brought her hands up, struggling to pull his hand away, and he laughed. “You want to fight me, bitch?” he whispered. Then he flipped out a knife, grazed it along her cheek, and she froze. “Bet Jackson Kincaid loves a bitch who fights. Mine always gave up way too soon.”
Her stillness changed into shivers of dread. What is happening? A monster is attacking me.
“Such a disappointment to me how she’d quit fighting and cower.” He trailed the knife down Ellie’s neck. “Let’s see what we have under here,” he said. He slipped the knife under her scrubs top. Cold metal glanced against her stomach and she whimpered. Then he brought the knife up through the fabric and sliced it open in one savage thrust. His movement loosened his hold on her neck. Ellie bucked and tried to shove him off, but he laughed and slammed her chest down. She sucked in air but froze when he toyed with her bra and slid the knife over the lace fabric. “You wear this for Jackson?”
Ellie felt her stomach revolt. Tears weren’t far behind.
“I asked you a question,” he sneered and backhanded her across the face. Her neck snapped and her vision went hazy. “I don’t think Jackson deserves such a luscious body. Not after he fucked with me.”
Jackson? Jackson’s coming.
“You know what happens when people fuck with me, sweet Ellie? I fuck back.”
“Ellie?” George’s voice came from the open doorway. “What the…” George lunged through the air and knocked the attacker off her. She scrambled back and watched them wrestle, the man momentarily surprised. But then he kneed George in the gut and rolled him over. “Get out, Ellie, go!” George yelled.
She scrambled to the front reception area, and had almost made it to the front door when the monster grabbed her leg and landed on top of her on the floor.
“No!” she screamed and tried to fight back. Blood warmed her mouth. He pinned her down. She felt the knife by her neck and turned slightly to see it covered in blood. “No,” she whimpered. “You hurt George.”
He ripped her pants down. “George your friend, huh? You think anyone can stop me? No one can stop me! And now,” he said, roaming his hand over her naked back, “I’m here to take what Jackson Kincaid thinks is his. I’m going to fuck him up. He’ll wish he was dead.”
No, no, no, she whimpered in her head. “Stop,” she screamed again and, despite the knife, tried to shove against him. I’m not strong enough! Ellie heard barking, angry, vicious barking. Buffy. Her bark became low growling and when the man paused, Buffy bared her teeth and lunged.
Jackson pulled up in front of Ellie’s clinic and even before he opened the back door, Chewie went ballistic, growling, barking. The mutt’s hackles stood straight up. He lunged past Jackson’s hand that held his leash and raced to the clinic, barking like crazy. The inside lights were off in the reception area, but the few on in the back lit the scene in front of him in an evil play of shadows and light. Anthony Lucciano had a mostly naked Ellie pinned down.
“Fuck!” he roared and pounded on the glass. “Fucking no! You bastard!” He shoved his key in the lock and watched Buffy attack, grab onto Lucciano’s leg and drag him off Ellie. Lucciano punched and kicked Buffy, sending her sliding away. Jackson heard the dog’s whimper of pain. Filled with rage, he was through the door. He smashed Lucciano into the reception counter.
“You piece of shit!” Jackson yelled. He reared back and punched him.
“Warned you not to fuck with me,” Lucciano said, calm, his words filled with menace.
“You’re the one getting fucked now.” Jackson’s rage fueled him. Punch after punch. “You sick fuck.”
“Jackson.” Ellie’s voice, raw and pained, came to him from across the room. “He’s got a knife.” He heard the word knife just as Lucciano raised his hand and lunged. Jackson caught his wrist and wrestled with him. Lucciano elbowed him in the gut and Jackson lost his balance on him for a split second. Lucciano took advantage, shoved his body up and rolled them.
“No!” Ellie screamed. Lucciano reared back with his knife hand and brought it down, but Jackson punched his fist into Lucciano’s face, grabbed his knife hand and twisted, using Lucciano’s weight against him, and he fell onto his own knife.
The bastard’s face deteriorated from sick glee to understanding. Jackson shoved him off and Lucciano crumpled onto the floor with a knife sticking out of his chest. Blood seeped through his dark clothes. Adrenaline burned through Jackson. He stood and kicked him one more time.
“Jackson,” Ellie said. He raced to her.
“Jesus Christ, Ellie.” She’d crawled over and rested her head on Buffy. She ran one hand down her fur while the other one held Buffy’s head down. Both hands were shaking. “She’s hurt. Stay, baby. Shhh. It’s okay,” she cooed to Buffy. Clothes ripped off, beaten up and bleeding and she still took care of her animals. Jackson couldn’t catch his ragged breath. He took his T-shirt off and covered her with it, dug his phone out, and called nine-one-one. This time he didn’t hesitate when the person on the other end asked him to state his emergency.
“Assault at Corvallis Vet Clinic—253 Corvallis Street. Need ambulances and police. Assailant is unconscious with a knife wound. One victim, hurt but conscious, and an injured dog.”
“George,” she choked out.
“What?” he asked, gently touching her back. He wanted to haul her on his lap and fuse her to him, but he didn’t know where she was hurt or injured.
“George was in the back. They fought… I think he’s hurt,” she whispered. Jackson found George, unconscious and bleeding by the back door. “Jesus! Fuck!” he swore. The sound of sirens wept through the night.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ellie hurt everywhere. Every bone, every muscle, her head, under her teeth. God, the throbbing under her teeth, would it ever go away? It was like feeling her head being smashed onto the floor over and over again. Ellie pushed herself up in bed. The pain hadn’t been this bad in the hospital right after the attack had happened. The beauty of narcotics. Three days after the attack, however, she didn’t want to be doped up anymore. She wanted to be aware of everything, so she’d take the pain. A concussion, fractured jaw, two broken teeth that they’d removed, and she’d have to have a bridge put in. And the bruises. The bruises resembled a B-grade horror movie playing on her face and her back where she’d slammed into the ground when Lucciano had shoved her.
Anthony Lucciano was dead, and Ellie felt not one ounce of sadness. What broke her heart was that, before he died, he’d killed George, her friend. A kind, good man who’d tried to save her. Heartbreak and guilt hurt worse than her injuries. Jackson promised they’d have a funeral for George once she’d healed. George’s death was another wound she’d have to care for. But she was learning one’s heart could break in places and still function. Because her heart was also flooded with love and gratitude. Although it was a confusing and exhausting matter for her to understand the mixture of relief plus guilt plus anger plus love, it meant her heart was wide open. She never wanted it to be closed up again.
“Here, babe.” Jackson came into the room with pain reliever and water, somehow reading her mind. She smiled at him, but his face was granite.
“Want to climb in and cuddle?” she offered. Their king-size bed was the place to be. Chewie slept on Buffy who rested up against Ellie’s side, touching the length of Ellie’s body with her own. Her brave dog was going to be okay.
And even though the emergency vet who’d treated her had said Buffy would be in pain and need lots of sleep, her dog maintained a vigilant watch over her. Where Ellie went, Buffy went. Same with Jackson. As much as she loved them, she had to admit, going to the bathroom with Buffy and Jackson hovering, along with Chewie flipping his body around demanding attention, got old fast.
“Mrs. Heely dropped pastries off while you were sleeping. Girls wanna come by later. Told ’em I’d think about it. Police are done with your clinic. Lachlan called in a crime scene cleaning lab to disinfect it. All your animals have been taken in by Bendel Vet Center in Norwood. And I made chicken and rice soup for you.”
He took care of everything, was never a second away from her and cradled her at night. But that didn’t mean he’d let go of his anger. From the tightness of his jaw and the dark circles under his eyes, she sensed he was hanging on by a thread. She wondered if the guilt she felt over George was anything like the guilt he’d carried his whole life and the additional pile of crap she’d bet he would carry over the fact that Anthony Lucciano had almost killed her.
“Honey. Please come lie down by me… I need you.” He fisted his hands and sucked in a breath. “Please.” She didn’t care if she sounded desperate. She was. Desperate for him to let her in, to hold her tight despite the pain, because they were both alive and she needed to feel it.
“You’re in pain,” he said. His knuckles were white and his entire body taut.
“Yes,” she said. His face contorted as if she’d smacked him. “But I need you. I need to feel you. You warm me. You make me feel safe and loved. I need—”
“He almost killed you!” he bellowed.
She couldn’t help the tears. There were too many of them pouring down her face. She nodded. “But he didn’t. You got there in time. You saved me, honey. You have to let go of some of that anger and guilt. Please. You rescued me. Please come be with me.”
He shoved aside the covers, fitted his body in next to hers and gathered her to him. With his face shoved in her hair, he said, “I almost lost you. Fuck, Ellie, I almost lost you.”
“I know, but I’m here. Shhh.” She soothed him the same way she had Buffy after the attack. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay, honey.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You and me and our dogs. We’re going to get through this and we’re going to have our beautiful life and that starts right now.”
He held her tight and they stayed like that until Ellie fell asleep, warm on Jackson’s chest.
Chapter Forty
“Hi,” Ellie said to the woman who’d entered the clinic. “Can I help you?” Natalie was out today and things were quiet. Ellie sat on the bench by the window, basking in the sunshine.
It had taken a month for Ellie to get back to work. Her clinic had reopened after a week with the help of Natalie, Matt and Rosie, but there had been only so much they could do without Ellie, the vet.
She’d had a small surgery to fix her teeth. Her jaw and bruises were healing, but the worst part of her injuries was her concussion. That slick bastard frustrated her. She felt as if she was listing to one side, a one-man sailboat in a storm, and it made her seasick. Dizzy and nauseated at the same time was worse than wrestling an angry cat into a crate. The last two days she’d felt better and Jackson had let her go to work for a few hours. He was not happy, and he made certain she knew he was in fact letting her. She humored him because he was still tender and pissed off over the entire thing and because, in the end, she got her way.
