Chapter 3 #2
A gentle smile spread across his face as he resolved upon what he needed to do, loading and locking a battle plan into his head that would frustrate his body in the short term, but hopefully reward it later with her trust. She thinks she doesn’t want you?
Doesn’t need you? Then give her exactly what she wants.
Treat her like one of the humans you used to bodyguard in Boston, with respect and deference, but nothing that even hints of intimacy.
He thought about how easily she used eyespeak now, how quickly she rattled off the facts of the binding.
How would she feel if he treated her like a normal, unbound human he was being paid to protect?
That’s what she thinks she wants, what she says she wants, so give it to her.
Free her mind to figure out what she wants.
Put the heat on the back burner. Quit looking at her body.
Don’t touch her and don’t provoke her. Take your body and your heart out of the equation for now, so she can too.
Don’t force your nature and your world on her.
No talking about Rougs. Don’t refer to the binding.
No Dansmatête. No eyespeaking. Don’t force her into your world.
Give her mind the space to decide whether she wants the life you can offer.
Treat her like a human while she finds her footing, not like your mate. Give her space to want you and miss you. Space for her heart and body to work on her head.
It was her head that would or would not allow her heart and body to surrender. It was her head that would finally have to see that she still belonged to him, in spite of his nature, regardless of his DNA, despite the seeming impossibility of being together.
The bottom line? Give her what she wants: space, respect, and indifference. And see if maybe, just maybe, you get what you want in the end.
He’d certainly taken his time getting out of the car, but once he did, he was perfectly affable as he unlocked the door, flicking on the lights, and gesturing for her to precede him inside.
She walked into the vestibule, keeping her duffel bag securely on her shoulder like it could protect her, the only familiar thing in an unfamiliar life. She didn’t look back at the door when he closed it. The last time she’d been up against that door—
“Let’s get the lights on, huh?”
Jack walked around her, not touching her, and flicked on the lights in the living room as he headed for the kitchen.
“Do you want anything? I’m making tea.”
She would kill or die for a cup of tea.
“No,” she answered, one foot stepping into the wonderfully high-ceilinged room where they’d first made love.
Her memories assaulted her immediately. The weight of Jack’s body over hers. His mouth covering hers. His lips sucking on her nipples. His tongue licking the most intimate part of her. The strong, hard length of him filling her until they both—
“You sure?”
“Huh?” she moaned in a dazed whisper, looking up. He was filling a teakettle at the sink, his eyebrows raised expectantly. She took a deep breath and composed herself quickly. “Uh. No. I mean, yeah. No tea. I’m sure.”
“Okay.” He approached her from the kitchen, stopping a good five feet in front of her and offering her a friendly smile. “If you change your mind, please feel free to make your own. I’m sure you can find whatever you need. If you can’t, just ask. I hope you’ll make yourself at home.”
He was being perfectly pleasant, which was throwing her off a little.
She wasn’t used to him being so…normal. He was usually so brooding and intense with his dark eyes, or burning eyes, making her body feel too many things at once.
She still stood under the arch that led from the vestibule into the living room, unsure of herself and suddenly very, very tired.
“Hey,” he said lightly, glancing at her eyes and then away quickly. “I bet you’re tired. How about I show you to your room?”
He turned and started up the stairs without approaching her or offering to take her bag, so she traipsed behind, following him up the stairs.
“I have a comfortable guest room for you. Opposite side of the house from my room, so you’ll have your privacy.”
His voice was light, yet warm, and void of any suggestive undertones about his room.
She thought of his bed, his huge, downy bed where she had slept all night with him lodged intimately inside of her.
The warmth of his body behind hers. The hair on his chest against the smoothness of her back.
His strong, corded legs intertwined with hers as his hands rested lightly under the weight of her breasts.
Her mouth felt dry, and she swallowed, forcing those memories away and remembering the last time she was in his bed. Waking up after fainting on Thursday morning to find him watching her, his face a mask of worry and regret.
She circled the banister, following him to the right, away from the side of the hallway that housed his bedroom.
“Here we are,” he said, pushing open the last door at the far end of the hallway, next to the bathroom where she’d showered after getting caught in the rain last Saturday. She remembered he’d left his robe on the sink for her. And socks. Thick socks for her freezing feet.
She looked up at his face, catching his eyes, but all she heard was a buzzing noise, like a hum, like white noise, like nothing. She raised her eyebrows, and he gave her a modest, polite nod, looking away.
He stepped back from the door so she could enter the room.
It was simple but comfortable, exactly the sort of guest room she would choose for herself.
A full-sized walnut sleigh bed in the center of the room with a blue and white toile comforter dominated the cozy room.
Two end tables, each with a simple brass candlestick lamp and cream-colored silk lampshade, flanked the bed.
The floor was hardwood, with a thick coat of shellac making it shine, and a wool throw rug with a periwinkle hydrangea lay on the floor at the side of the bed.
There was an antique dresser on the wall across from the bed, with a mirror and doors on either side.
“Left door is a closet. Right is a bathroom.” He opened his palms. “Sure you don’t want some tea?”
Darcy placed her bag on the bed and looked back at Jack, who still stood in the doorway. He glanced at her, then stepped back into the hallway, his hands clasped in front of him like a hotel porter.
“No. Thank you,” she murmured, looking into his eyes again. Buzzing. Nothing more. It annoyed her not to have access to his thoughts. She’d become accustomed to hearing his voice in her head.
Where are you?, she wondered distractedly, catching his eyes. Can’t you hear me?
“Well, then.” He pressed his lips together, giving her a light smile. “I guess I’ll say good night.”
“Yes, I…Good night, Jack.”
“Sleep tight.” He turned away from her, and she listened to his departing footsteps until he opened his bedroom door and closed it behind him.
He flopped down on his back, exhaling.
Merde! This is not going to be easy.
When she asked, “Can’t you hear me?” it had taken all of his self-control not to flinch, not to think, and not to respond. His hands had twitched to reach out and touch her hair, cup her jaw, and crush her lips with his. So he’d pressed them together, giving her that polite, milquetoast smile.
He sighed. Stay the course, Jack. She needs space from Roug ways. He knew that everything needed to feel more normal for her peace of mind and for her to decide what she really wanted.
He ran his hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling, his bedroom painful and soothing at once.
Darcy’s scent was everywhere. It was in the sheets that he refused to change, in the wood fiber of his headboard.
All over his rocking chair where she’d sat naked.
In the curtains that flanked the windows, where she’d gotten up to watch the moon.
And the thing was? He wanted her scent to surround him. He just wished she were here too.
But it wasn’t lost on him that her tone had softened in the small space of time since they’d entered the house, either. She’d thanked him when he showed her to her room, and she’d told him good night in a much softer, less combative voice than earlier.
Give her room to figure out what she wants. But, for God’s sake, distract yourself, Jack.
He hadn’t showered since returning with his father last night, and since a cold shower would help ease his desire for her, he started there.
After, with his hair wet and tousled, he threw on some jeans and left his room to find Julien.
He was surprised to hear her door open at the end of the hall as he approached the stairs.
“Jack?”
He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, and he watched her eyes widen as they ran slowly over his upper chest, down his abs, finally resting on the muscular V that led to—
Even from fifteen feet away, he heard as she sucked in an audible breath, her mouth open and soft. Finally, she raised her eyes to his.
You’re so beauti—
“Did you need something?” he asked, cutting off her thought, trying to sound blandly polite as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“I, uh…yes.” He knew she probably didn’t mean to, but she smiled at him. “I forgot my charger. For my iPhone. Do you…”
“Have an extra? Sure. I’ll find it and leave it outside your door.”
“Thanks.”