Chapter 9
The words exploded inside Jillian with the force of a nuclear bomb. A small gasp leaked from between her numb lips.
When Zane’s head jerked up, she locked her stunned gaze on his. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.
Regret shadowed his chiseled features as he rose from his chair. “Shit,” he muttered. “Jillian—”
She spun and ran.
Tearing across the patio and into the woods, she sprinted uphill along the moon-stippled forested pathway, not caring where she was going.
Got to get away.
Chest painfully tight, muscles screaming, strangling on burning, jagged breaths, she lurched as fast as possible uphill along the rising, uneven trail. Moonlight punched through the narrow, winding incline, blurry patches of light fracturing impenetrable pockets of darkness.
Escape. As far away as possible.
Panting, she finally broke into a bright clearing at the crest of the hill. A sturdy peeled log fence barricaded the edge of a steep cliff overlooking the lake and mountains beyond. She staggered to a stop.
What have I done?
Jillian stumbled to the fence, dropped quivering forearms on the weather-polished wood and buried her face in her hands.
Oh, God, I’ve just married a man I know next to nothing about.
A man who’d had a vasectomy.
No children, ever.
It shouldn’t matter so much. Shouldn’t matter at all. She wasn’t planning on ever having Zane Wolfe’s beautiful, dark-eyed, raven-haired babies.
Yet she’d just committed at least two years of her life to him.
What if her longed-for white knight arrived while she was locked into this insane contract? Her true soulmate. Would he understand the circumstances? Would he be patient enough to wait?
What about her lifelong dreams for a big, rowdy, happy family—now on indefinite hold?
Her stomach knotted, and despite the temperate summer evening she shuddered, cold from head to toe.
“Jillian.”
Zane’s quiet hail sent her spinning around.
She choked on an unexpected surge of fury. “I don’t want to see you right now.”
He walked closer. “We should talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to be married to you!”
He cocked his head. “Then at the point when the officiant said, ‘do you, Jillian, take this man … ’ you probably should have replied, ‘no.’”
Her fingernails stabbed into her palms. “Do you think that’s funny?”
“Ah … not if you don’t.”
She swallowed the ball of tears rising in her throat. “You’ve done your duty, now leave me alone!”
He moved closer, moonlight gilding his regal features, the endless brown pools of his eyes reflecting the glinting stars … and sincere regret. “In hindsight, I should’ve told you about the vasectomy. After the broken condom catastrophe with Deb, I wasn’t leaving anything to chance, ever again. But honestly, it didn’t occur to me to discuss it with you. We were in agreement about this marriage being only a contractual legality.”
“Contractual legality. ” She inhaled shakily. “Oh, we are. It is. Just go the hell away.”
“Not this time.” His tender smile completely disarmed her. “It’s okay. You can be mad at me, I can take it. You’ve lived through your own personal seven month nightmare. By my calculations, you’re overdue for a meltdown.”
“I’m not having a meltdown. I don’t have meltdowns.”
“You’re only human, sweetheart, you’re entitled. Everybody has ‘em.”
“When was the last time you melted down, Wolfe?”
White teeth flashed. “I ah … channel my frustrations into more pleasant energy-burning activities. You should give it a try.”
“What? But, I thought … You said … You said you didn’t want to have sex with me,” she blurted.
His unexpected wicked grin delighted her, knocked her completely for a loop. “No, I said I was not going to have sex with you.”
Fury faded into dismayed confusion. “What are you doing, Zane?”
“Attempting, apparently with limited success, to charm you out of wanting to rip my head off.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“No?” A dark, glossy brow arched. “Excellent facsimile, then.”
Zane’s unexpected smart-assed mode teased a smile from her. “I … I’m mad at myself.”
“What for?”
“Because Mia and I talked you into this insane plan, and...”
The wry brow notched higher. “You honestly think either of you could shanghai me into doing anything I don’t want to?”
Jillian assessed the determined warrior in front of her. No white knight here … but dark and haunted by shadows.
She’d already talked him into staying and taking responsibility for Casey. Then, yes, shanghaied him into marriage. She swallowed again. “I … I’m afraid, and mad—not at you, at myself —because I have no idea if this crazy fake marriage will even work, or if it’ll backfire on us—and Casey.”
And because I’m horribly afraid I now want something I can’t have.
He stepped closer, until he was only inches away. “This isn’t a fake marriage.” His voice deepened. “You are my wife. And I protect what’s mine. I will protect you and Casey. Until my final breath.”
Tears resurged, flooding her eyes.
“Don’t cry. For Christ’s sake don’t cry.” Zane reached inside his jacket and withdrew a slim, hinged rectangular blue leather box. “Here. I bought you something.”
Jillian blinked. “You got me a present?”
“I believe it’s customary for the groom to give the bride a gift.”
“But … I didn’t get you anything.”
“Damn. Well, in that case—” He gave her a teasing smile, cocked his arm. “I suppose proper wedding etiquette says I should toss it over the cliff.”
“Beast. Don’t you dare!” She snatched the box from his hand, stared wonderingly at it. “You bought me a present. Thank you.”
He chuckled. “The present is actually inside the box.”
“Ha, ha.” Then all the oxygen evaporated from her lungs as she opened the lid and moonbeams played over the long double strand of exquisite pearls. “ Oh! Oh, how did you know I love pearls?”
“I didn’t.”
Trembling, she bit into her lip until it stung. “Why did you do this? Is it to keep up appearances?”
Zane lifted the pearls and draped the smooth opalescent orbs around her neck. “I saw them in the jewelry store where we got our rings and they made me think of you. They’re not sharp and cold, like other gemstones. They’re warm, and natural, and vibrantly alive. They glow like your skin in the moonlight.”
One callused fingertip traced her skin below the line of pearls around her neck and down her collarbone, to where the strands caressed the bare skin just above her breasts. A shiver raced up her spine and her heart fluttered beneath his touch. “Jillian, I bought them for you because I wanted to. I married you because I wanted to. And damn me to hell—” He inhaled shakily. “I’m going to kiss you right now because I want to.”
He tugged the pearls, pulling her to him, and his mouth took hers, hot and fierce and demanding.
For a fleeting heartbeat of precious seconds, everything clicked into place.
Perfection .
One of Zane’s hands tangled in her hair, the other gripped her waist as he deepened the kiss, staking his claim. He devoured her voraciously, recklessly, a man starving for sustenance only she could give.
The world began to whirl in a giddy maelstrom of emotion and sensation, the stars spinning around them in white, sizzling sparks. Jillian banded her arms around his neck, her senses sizzling with the same brilliant glow. She’d never felt this spiritual bond with anyone else. Only Zane.
How was it possible that kissing him fused them together not only in body, but also in mind, and in heart?
How was it possible that the one man in the universe who was all wrong for her might actually be the only man in the universe who was right for her?
She was tired of waiting for some elusive white knight. Tired of always playing it safe.
For once in her life, she was going to fully live in the moment, consequences be damned. His turbulent desire inflamed hers, and she eagerly met his marauding tongue with her own, returning his kiss—mate to mate.
With a groan, he backed her against the fence, desperately possessing her mouth, careening the glittering hunger through her. Her spine was pressed to the cool, unyielding wood, her front pressed full-length against Zane’s hot, vibrating body. He smelled like heaven, hot, aroused man, and tasted of dark, tempting sin.
Her world narrowed to only passion. Only this wild, shattering intimacy.
Only Zane.
His mouth lifted from hers, her lips swollen and sensitized, her breath in rags. He kissed a sensual path along her jawline. Eager teeth nipped her neck, the erotic love-bites making her quiver. Then his warm, moist breath panted into her ear, sending goosebumps prickling over her skin.
“God help me, I want you so much.” His hoarse admission resonated through every cell. Anticipation spiraled in her belly, tightening the moist clenching ache between her thighs.
“I want you too,” she whispered against the frantic pulse throbbing in his throat.
He inhaled like a drowning man. “This is a very bad idea.”
“No.” She skated the tip of her tongue over his hot skin, tasting the faint saltiness over his rich essence, delighting in his shudder. “ Mmm. It’s good.” She licked him again, already addicted to his taste. “All good.”
His Adam’s apple convulsed as he gulped, his lean-muscled frame still vibrating with the battle to maintain control. “I. Should. Leave.”
“Don’t. Please don’t.” She grasped his hand at her waist and raised it to cup her breast. “I need you to touch me, Zane. I ache with it.”
Uttering a low growl, he hungrily recaptured her mouth. His knee thrust between hers, pushing her legs apart. Her skirt hiked up, and the silky texture of his slacks caressed her inner thighs with tingling friction. The hard ridge of his arousal rode right on her sweet spot, inciting a celebratory riot in her electrified nerve endings.
She rubbed against him, seeking more. Seeking relief.
His palm squeezed her breast and his fingers plucked her taut nipple through the lace as he tilted his pelvis into hers. Pleasure rocketed through her, and Zane’s mouth swallowed her fervent hum.
Those talented lips impatiently roved in a devastating path to her jawline, her neck, then her shoulder. He yanked down the strap of her dress, baring her breast. His warm satin tongue rapidly flicked the tender tip and she moaned. Then his hot mouth closed over her, sucking in strong pulls that shot the savage, primitive heat straight to her core, her inner muscles contracting with each greedy tug. Jillian’s legs went wobbly and she gasped.
He yanked down the other strap, effectively pinning her arms. She didn’t care, surrendering completely to him as he feasted on her other breast.
Her head fell back as she gladly let Zane’s wildfire consume her, her hips writhing and frantic for him to fill the emptiness inside. “Please,” she managed to gasp. “ Please, Zane.”
A hot callused palm skimmed up her thigh at the same time his knee urged her thighs wider apart. He cupped her mons, rotated the heel of his hand, streaming urgent need through her. “Is this what you want, sweetheart?” he rasped against her damp breast.
“Yes!”
His fingertip easily edged aside the thin lace and tantalizingly traced the slick seam of her lower lips.
“ Mmm. Yes. ”
Those agile fingers opened her, tugging her clit and rolling the swollen, sensitized bud between his fingertips. Her entire body jerked at the shockingly wicked flood of pleasure, her hips bucking against him. “ Oh. ” She panted for breath. “ Oh ... I … You. Want. You. ”
His mouth left her breast and one hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back as his mouth again crashed down on hers. His tongue plunged into her mouth at the same time two long fingers drove inside her body, thrusting in tandem in a glorious dual assault on her senses.
The shattering orgasm roared through her, and she screamed her pleasure into Zane’s mouth. Colored lights exploded behind her eyelids, every muscle contracting with violent release, and her quaking legs buckled. If not for the wonderful pressure of Zane’s solid frame holding her up, she would’ve collapsed to her knees.
She went limp, and his fingers withdrew. Strong arms wrapped around her. She buried her face in his neck, realizing for the first time that he was also shaking uncontrollably. And still as hard as steel.
Her pulse thrummed wildly. She hadn’t imagined their mind-blowing connection. Whatever this unsettling link was between them, it was real.
And Zane felt it too. Because when things got too personal, he locked down. Exactly what he was striving to do right now.
Jillian dragged in a trembling breath. Even in the midst of the marvelous aftershocks, she longed for more. Longed for him.
She snatched another breath. And one more before she could speak. “Make love to me.”
His fingers again dipped beneath her dress, fumbled with her thong, and she smiled, eager for him to yank it down and fill her with himself. To complete what they’d started.
Instead, he twitched her undergarment back into place before his unsteady hand carefully smoothed down the skirt of her dress. He eased back, pulled up one strap of her bodice, then the other, covering her breasts.
“Zane?” She looked up at him. “No, wait . Don’t—”
His jaw was set in granite, his face taut with strain. Tormented brown eyes briefly met hers before thick black lashes shuttered them. Shut her out.
He leaned down and brushed a heartbreakingly tender kiss on her cheek. “Jillian.” The whisper in her ear was raw, graveled. “Now if anyone asks us about consummating our marriage, you don’t have to—technically—lie.”
Then he pivoted and bolted down the trail.
* * *
Zane didn’t stop running until his lungs gave out. Stumbling into a sheltered cove beside the lake, he dropped onto a fallen log and bent over, wheezing.
Goddammit, Wolfe. You’ve fucked up six ways of sundown now.
He’d meant to take one longed-for taste of Jillian’s sweet essence.
One kiss.
But he’d totally lost control. The knots in his gut writhed like snakes.
He never lost control. Especially during sex.
And he’d gone at her like a wild animal.
Between her finding out about his vasectomy and then the wham-bam-no-thank-you-ma’am, any remaining illusions the lady might’ve carried about him had just plunged to a fiery death. She was looking for a gentleman. And the way she felt about kids, she probably wanted at least half a dozen.
Stoneheart had murdered those dreams for Zane before they could fully form. And Brent’s abject failure as a husband and father had cemented Zane’s vow never to perpetuate the family curse. A vow he believed so necessary, that the day after the debacle with Deb he’d made an appointment with a urologist. Talk about calling off the race after the horses had already left the gate. His mouth twisted in a grimace. Too little, too late.
He sat up, scrubbing trembling hands over his sweaty face. When Jillian had surrendered herself completely to him, trusted him enough to climax in his arms, begged him to make love to her, daggers of emotion had plunged dead-center into his heart.
The pain and terror had stopped him cold. Stopped him from shoving up her dress, sitting her on that fence and ramming himself into her. Taking her in a greedy frenzy.
But he’d wanted to. God, he’d wanted to, more than his next breath.
Wanted to pour himself into her. Mark her, possess her.
Make her his.
Because … Jesus … He swallowed a surge of bile. He was afraid he was in love with her.
His stomach roiled and his teeth clenched against the urge to puke.
No. He couldn’t love her. He wouldn’t. Love hurt.
Love destroyed.
If he loved her, he would eventually destroy her.
Breathe.
The sky arched above him, diamond stars piercing familiar patterns in the deep purple-blue. The same passion-darkened color as Jillian’s irises after she’d come, screaming into his mouth.
His still hard dick twitched, intensifying the ache in his balls, and he swallowed. It was only sex. The explosion between them had been all about lust. Had nothing to do with love.
He stared out at the vast black mirror of the dappled lake … for how long he had no idea.
Finally he got up and strode forward. He slogged into the mountain-fed water, the frigid burn filling his shoes, lapping at his ankles, then his knees, and stealing his breath.
By the time the cold water reached his waist, he was shivering … and blessedly numb.
So he kept walking forward.
* * *
Drenched and shivering uncontrollably now, Zane hesitated outside the door of his and Jillian’s honeymoon cottage.
His impromptu dip in the lake had partially eased the pain in his balls but hadn’t improved his mood any. Or done a thing for the inexplicable ache in his chest.
He sighed. He’d lost his damned mind. He’d passed the psych evals after every mission for the Bureau with flying colors, but hell, maybe the stress of finding out he had a kid had kicked in some sort of latent PTSD.
What kind of reception was he about to receive from his new bride? Hurt? Rage? Tears? He deserved all of the above, and more.
But please, not tears.
Stoneheart had made his mom cry all too often.
Bracing himself, Zane unlocked the door and gingerly pushed it open.
Low lamps on both sides of the king-sized bed splashed amber puddles across the burgundy comforter and glowed against pine-paneled walls. Quiet New Age music resonated from hidden speakers. A cheerful fire crackled in the stone fireplace. Jillian’s alluring patchouli fragrance scented the warm, moist air, announcing a recent bath in the huge sunken tub in the corner where an open bottle of white wine and a plate with trace evidence of cheese, crackers and fruit perched on the rim.
His gaze swept the deserted room. He swallowed hard. “Jillian?” he asked, unable to keep the hope out of his husky question.
She emerged from behind the burgundy curtains that draped the padded window seat, a half-full glass of wine in one hand, the other adjusting the tied belt on her silken emerald robe. Her composed, inquisitive gaze traveled down his sodden, shivering frame, then back up. “Hi. I was just watching the stars. They’re so clear and bright out here away from the city. Have a nice refreshing swim, did you?”
Bewildered relief tangled inside him. She didn’t appear hurt or angry. And there was no sign of tears. “Ah … yeah. Listen, Jillian—”
“You look like you’re freezing. Why don’t you go take a long, hot shower, and I’ll call room service for some dinner. How does seafood sound?”
Better than eating crow. “Uh … sure. But first, I owe you an apology. I acted like an ass.”
“Yes, you did,” she said evenly.
“And … about … what I said to you, after we— After I—” He cleared his throat. “That was really shitty.”
“But it was the truth, yes?” Full, pink lips quirked at the corners. “We both know I’m the world’s worst prevaricator.” One slender shoulder lifted nonchalantly. “Now I don’t have to—technically—lie.”
“Did I … did I hurt you?”
“Zane, you were there, right? You were the one holding me, kissing me, while you gave me a writhing, bucking, screaming climax.”
He gulped in much-needed oxygen. “Uh … well … I didn’t intend to get so rough.”
“I’m fine. In fact, I feel fantastic. It’s amazing what a mind-jolting orgasm can do for you. You should try it sometime.”
He blinked, as knocked off-balance as if he’d been bashed in the head by a 95 mph fastball. “Are you going to toss all my words back at me?”
Her pert nose crinkled impishly. “As often as possible.”
“Well. Well, ah, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Her soft smile spiked his blood pressure. “Apology accepted.”
He’d never been given mercy and grace, had no idea how to respond.
“Zane, we’ve both had a tough week. Now go grab that shower before you catch pneumonia. We can talk more over dinner.”
“Right.” Tearing his gaze from her too-tempting mouth, he grabbed his bag from the bench at the food of the bed and strode toward the bathroom.
He left the light off, instead preferring the secluded company of only the moon and stars streaming through the big ceiling skylight. Behind the glass doors in the luxurious slate shower, he cranked the hot water wide open and switched on the dual showerheads. Steaming water jetted over his knotted muscles. He propped his hands on the glass and bent his head, letting the pulsing streams knead away his tension.
Built for two, with strategically placed sprays, the shower was perfect for lovers. He closed his eyes. An unbidden picture rose in his mind. Jillian, naked and beautiful inside the steamy enclosure with him. He’d lean her back against the warm slate, and this time, take it slow. Savor and explore every delectable curve. Nibble the water droplets from her creamy neck and shoulders. Skim his soapy palms over her sleek skin. Trace the curves of her bottom, tease her nipples until they pebbled with desire. Her softness would cradle him, their wet soapy bodies creating slick, aching friction as he slid into her welcoming heat.
He groaned. Where was the infamous Wolfe self-discipline? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Jillian?
His hard-on practically bumped the glass, and he swore. He’d gone way too long without sex, that’s why. And tonight’s incident had him revved to the max—all systems go.
You know what you have to do. Release the pressure before you implode and do something even more stupid … like toss her into that sumptuous bed and make love to her until you both lose the ability to walk.
He wrapped his hand around his swollen, pulsing shaft, groaned again.
One pumping stroke. Then another. And another. The water beat down on him, drumming in time with his erratic pulse.
Jillian’s lovely face wavered behind his closed eyelids, her scent so strongly imprinted in him he’d swear she was really in the room.
Electric awareness sizzled over his skin. He opened his eyes … and saw Jillian standing on the other side of the dripping glass, wide eyes locked on him.
He froze, hand still on his dick.
Shit, how long had she been standing there watching him jack off?
Her teeth caught her full lower lip. “You groaned. Loudly. And you didn’t hear my knock. I thought maybe you were sick.”
“Get. Out,” he gritted.
Jillian stepped back, and the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding eked out.
Then her hands went to the tie of her robe, unfastened it, and the robe drifted to the floor in a puddle of emerald silk. Wearing only the lustrous pearls that caressed the rosy tips of her alabaster breasts, his moonlit goddess strolled toward him. “Not this time, Zane.”
He strangled on a hastily indrawn breath as she opened the door and stepped into the shower with him.
As she slowly advanced, he retreated … until his spine hit the wall.
Trapped.
Jillian stepped closer.
Closer.
Her sleek, wet body glided against his, her pebbled nipples tracing like burning embers across his pecs. “Hello, Agent Big, Bad Wolfe,” she purred.
A violent whiplash of desire jammed his heart in his throat, the thundering beat choking him. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move if someone ordered him at gunpoint.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. Gentle, steady hands cupped his trembling face. “It’s okay to be afraid. Okay to let yourself feel vulnerable. You don’t have to deny your needs.” Astute violet irises held him captive. “Zane, it’s okay to yearn for an intimate connection.”
She rose on tiptoe and kissed him long and thoroughly, tasting of wine and berries, and her own special intoxicating blend he would crave the rest of his life.
Then her lips left his, nibbled his chin, the hollow of his throat, and she slid down his body, gracefully sinking to her knees in front of him while his heart attempted to batter its way out of his ribs.
Her palms stroked up his thighs and she looked up at him. “You don’t have to be alone. But tell me you’d rather do this alone, and I’ll go.”
His hands flattened against the tile at his sides, desperately searching in vain for support. For the strength to send her away.
All he could do was shake his head.
“Does that mean you want me to stay?”
He nodded.
Soft, plump lips kissed the knife scar on his left thigh and he tried to suck in air that was as hot and thick as melted honey.
“Zane.” Her warm, damp breath brushed the sensitive engorged head that was a whisper from her lips, making his stomach rollercoaster and his dick leap. “You’re safe with me.”
Then her generous mouth engulfed him in satin heat.
He jerked and a guttural noise perilously close to pain wrenched from his chest.
Her tongue swirled, laving him … loving him … and his lungs pumped in ragged gasps as white-hot pleasure seared him to the core. Every muscle tightened, his body quaking, heart thrashing.
Far too soon, the electric urge to climax prickled down his spine.
No!
He moaned through clenched teeth, fighting the inevitable end.
He wanted to savor this moment. To cling to this mysterious secret link forging between himself and Jillian. Cling to the intense, exquisite bliss of belonging with her.
Even though that feeling, that yearning, was scary as fuck.
But it’d been way too long and he was way too amped, and her sweet, hot, wet mouth just felt too damned good.
Better than anything in his life.
Zane thrust his fingers into her silky hair, trying to tug her away, urgently trying to warn her he was on the razor edge.
“ Mmm hmm. ” Her hum vibrated through him, intensifying the overwhelming sensation nearly beyond bearing.
Oh God.
“I’m—”he managed to gasp. “Gonna—”
She hummed again and gripped his ass, pulling him deeper.
God! His back arched and he let go. Shuddering, moaning as a tsunami of molten release roared through him, erupted out of him.
Jillian took everything he gave, drawing out the ecstasy longer than he thought possible.
Completely wrecking him.
While he was still struggling to orient himself, while the ground was still rocking and rolling beneath his feet, she glided back up his quaking torso. Pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. “Zane,” she said huskily. “Now you don’t have to—technically—lie to anybody either.” Compassionate eyes ensnared him. “Except yourself.”
Zane’s knees buckled, and he slid down the wall. Sitting on the shower floor, he watched her calmly open the shower door, and step out. She wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel, then picked up her robe and walked from the room.