Chapter 31
LAUREL
There wasn’t anywhere to go, but I broke free from Jason’s grasp and went into the kitchen, pulling a glass down from a cabinet and filling it with water. He’d told me I might be able to resume performing overseas, and I’d all but shrugged my dream off, like it was nothing and not everything.
Everything.
He’d said that was what had changed between us, but he didn’t know the half of it. The three words itched under my skin, mocking me.
Stop it. It was way too soon to be in love.
The waiting was miserable agony, and when the sun fell below the horizon, I tried to distract myself by cooking dinner. At least I had control over that.
Shawn secluded himself in his home office until dinner was ready, and I was aware Jason had gone in there for a long discussion at one point.
I’d heard the German between the Dunns from behind the door, and I’d had to fight back the desire to throw it open and demand English whenever I heard Jason’s nickname for me.
He drank beer with dinner while Shawn sipped on wine and pried into my back story with skilled efficiency.
Was he checking to see if I was worthy of his brother?
I didn’t mind his examination because it gave me a chance to turn the same questions back around on him and learn everything I could about the brothers.
Even though their relationship was strained, it was obvious they cared very much about each other.
When dinner was finished, Jason pulled a second beer from the fridge then nodded to me.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to let the CEO of Osterh?gen Beverage do our dishes.”
Shawn frowned. “I’m letting you stay at my house, and you’ve got me sleeping in the guest bedroom. I am not cleaning up after you.”
That was fair.
I stood, gathered plates, and carried them to the sink, only for him to push back from the table and wave me off.
“Go,” he said lightly. “You made dinner, and I can handle loading a dishwasher. Auf Wiedersehen.”
My gaze went to the man waiting for me by the doorway, who had one hand wrapped around the neck of his beer and the other on his hip, just above the gun holstered there. The sight of him was magnetic, pulling me one foot in front of the other until I reached him.
His attention flicked to his brother for a moment, and his tone was genuine, serious. “Thank you.”
Then he placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the primary bedroom.
It was ridiculous to be nervous. We’d had sex, not once but twice before.
Despite that, my breath turned shallow when he shut the door, turned off the light, and strolled to what had become his side of the bed, setting the beer and his gun on the nightstand.
“Do you want me to start a fire?” he asked.
I stood across from him, the bed between us. “I’m okay.”
His eyes looked black in the low light. “L, you’re shaking.”
I hadn’t noticed. I looked down at my body in disbelief, and, when I discovered it was true, couldn’t contain the words any longer.
“I think I might love you.” My stomach felt like it was upside-down. “I’m sorry.”
Jason flinched like I’d shot him. “What?” But he’d clearly heard me.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know what to do, where to look, or how to respond.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again.
“Will you stop saying that?”
“I’m—” I spun away from him and put a hand over my mouth to stop anything else from coming out. I listened for the bedroom door to slam shut behind him. For him to groan and tell me it was too soon. That this was only sex for him and nothing more, even when I knew in my heart it wasn’t.
The room was deathly quiet.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
His face was unreadable, and the hurt in my chest built to a point where everything hurt.
“Just forget I said anything,” I pleaded.
“Not likely.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, unprepared for this stoic version of Jason. His gaze was shockingly intense. I should have been relieved that my words hadn’t made him flee, but somehow this lack of reaction?
It was worse.
I had no idea what he was thinking or going to do.
“Please,” I begged.
“I want to know why you’re sorry.” It came from him confused and not accusatory.
“What?”
He paused, waiting for me to answer, and when I didn’t, his tone went soft. “Pretty sure you heard me.”
“Because it's too soon,” I admitted. “Because I know you don’t want to hear me say I might love you.”
He didn’t flinch this time. “Why wouldn’t I want to hear that?”
“Please, forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Each passing second standing in the dark with his gaze burning into me was more maddening, and I was desperate for the suffering to end. “I made a mistake.”
He was a blur. I had never seen someone move so fast.
Jason didn’t go around the bed, but instead took the shortest route possible, climbing over the mattress to reach me. I gasped with surprise as he yanked me roughly into his arms.
“No,” he growled. “Stop telling me about mistakes. It wasn’t a mistake.”
His kiss that was so powerful, it knocked the wind out of me. My body seized control from my mind, and I flung my arms around him, giving him everything I had while blinking back the hot tears stinging my eyes.
His kiss wasn’t about lust or desire. It was filled with something else. The promise of more, and I sighed into it.
Maybe he couldn’t express it in words, but his feelings for me were undeniable. He cared about me a great deal. Perhaps as much as I did for him.
The heat in the kiss grew until it was white-hot and consuming.
He preferred to take the lead, but tonight I wanted to be in charge. I trailed my right hand down his chest, his stomach, not stopping until I reached the fly of his jeans. I cupped him where he was half hard and growing harder beneath my touch.
His response was to groan with pleasure and ease a hand under my shirt, skimming up to my bra.
I pressed my body into his, wordlessly asking him to move backward, and he complied. We shuffled a few steps over the carpet until his back thudded against the wall and he issued a quiet grunt of pain.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
But I was determined to make it up to him.
I used both hands to hurriedly undo his pants and shoved them inside, finding his skin warm when I curled my fingers around him.
He was hard as steel and yet soft as velvet under my grip, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest signaled just how much he liked the way I stroked him.
“This,” I said in a breathless voice, “what I’m doing to you now? This is your fault.”
The wicked smile that tilted his lips made my grip tighten.
Jason tried to lift my shirt, but my arms were down and in his way, and while he was visibly frustrated by that, he was also reluctant for me to stop what I was doing. I pumped my grip faster, enjoying the way his eyes hazed and his shoulders slumped against the wall.
I buried my face in his neck, kissing and nipping at him gently.
“Shit,” he muttered appreciatively.
He placed a hand on my cheek to urge my face up so he could get his mouth back on mine, but I didn’t allow it. If we kissed, I’d be too distracted to carry out my plan.
I sank to my knees before him, tugging his clothes out of my way as I knelt. His dick throbbed in my hand as I steadied him, then took him as deep into my mouth as I could.
“Fuck,” he swore again on a shuddered breath, and liquid fire poured through my veins, heating every inch of my body, flowing toward my center. I’d wanted to do this to him the night we’d come in from the rain, but he’d been too impatient then.
I pulled back almost completely then surged forward, earning me another jerk and heavy sigh of satisfaction. I ringed him at the base with one hand and placed the other on his thigh and moved on him eagerly.
One of his hands hovered over my head like he wasn’t sure if he could touch me like that. If it would come off too controlling.
Seeing him disoriented was shocking and thrilling, and it made me slide on him faster.
I swirled my tongue. Hollowed out my cheeks with a heavy suck.
His breath turned ragged, and finally his hand threaded through my hair—not forcing me, though.
Just another connection, as if he always wanted to be touching me.
There came a hiss of pleasure when my teeth scraped gently over his sensitive tip. The subtle rock of his hips encouraged me to pump faster. To take him deeper. I stared up at him as he peered down, his cock buried in my mouth and delicious agony twisted in his eyes.
His lips were parted so he could push out air in heavy bursts. “Your mouth,” he whispered, “is fucking fire.”
I moaned in enjoyment, because how could I not? He was so gorgeous like this, hanging on the edge of his control.
But abruptly, the muscles of his legs turned to stone and his voice filled with dread. “Stop.”