Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Jackson
Goodamn.
I forgot how fucking stubborn this girl can be.
And damn if that doesn’t turn me on.
Shifting back, I look down at her and let out a breath. She wants to know why I’ve kidnapped her. Of course, she’d want to know. But telling her the truth isn’t a fucking option, so I settle for a vague non-answer instead.
“You’re here because I want you here,” I say, matter-of-fact. “That’s reason enough.”
The pure, undiluted fury in her eyes is instantaneous.
“You’re a fucking cunt, you know that? I can’t just disappear from my life to fulfill some kind of sick fantasy of yours.
I have a job, bills, rent to pay, people to—” Wisely, she stops herself short of mentioning Mr. Manbun.
She’s lucky I haven’t already snapped his neck.
“Fuck rent,” I say with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry—?” She cuts herself off again with a scoff. “Wow. Spoken like a true rich boy. I doubt my landlord would be cool with me just saying ‘fuck rent.’”
My jaw tightens. I hate revealing shit that I’ve worked hard to conceal, but if I don’t admit to this one thing, she’ll never let it go.
“I own the building,” I say. “So, yeah, I’m telling you not to worry about it.”
She snaps her mouth shut and pulls her head back in shock. “What?”
Three years ago, she told me to get the fuck out of her life, and I did.
Mostly. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been watching, keeping tabs on her.
And when Ava moved into that shitty apartment last year, I made a generous offer on the building—way over market value—and predictably, the owner took me up on it.
I shrug. “My tax guy keeps telling me to invest.”
“You bought my building? What the….?” Then something seems to occur to her, and she glances up at me, her eyes wide. Almost slightly panicked. “You’ve been stalking me…”
“I guess that depends on your definition of stalking…” I say evenly.
“How do you have so much time? Aren’t you going to school or something?”
“I took the semester off,” I say.
Between the article dropping and everything happening with Ava, I knew I wouldn’t have the time—or the focus—for class.
Her mouth parts, and I can tell her mind is working a mile a minute. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s taking inventory of her life right about now, trying to figure out how much I know.
While I wait for her to say something, I watch her closely, hands flexing at my sides. I know it’s not intentional on her part, but she looks hot as fuck right now.
Several strands of her shoulder-length brown hair have escaped her low bun and frame her beautiful, oval-shaped face.
Her Isca waitress uniform—black slacks and a white button-down—looks just slightly too small for her.
The buttons of her shirt strain against her breasts, which seem ever fuller now, three years later.
I wonder if they taste the same.
A weighted silence hangs between us until finally, her eyes shift to the door for a split second before returning to my face. Ah, my baby girl. I know exactly what she’s planning, and honestly, she wouldn’t be the Ava I know if she didn’t at least try.
A split second later, she launches off the bed and makes a run for the door. She doesn’t make it three steps before I grab her, my hand clamped over her mouth.
She struggles against me—of course, she does—her screams muffled behind my palm. I tug her more tightly against me, her plump ass brushing against my crotch in a way that brings every villainous thought roaring back to life. I’m already rock hard, and I’ll fuck her into compliance if I have to.
That might be fun, actually.
Roughly, without removing my hand, I push her against the wall. She has enough sense to look scared, tears welling up in those wide green eyes, nostrils flaring.
“Bad, bad girl,” I whisper, dipping my head to speak directly into her ear. She’s breathing rapidly, and I can practically feel her heartbeat thundering between us. “I can’t have you trying to escape. I’m going to have to punish you now.”
She shakes her head frantically, the movement constrained by my hand.
“No?” I ask, something in my chest swelling, growing.
I fucking love having her like this—pinned against the wall, at my mercy.
Three years have felt like an eternity without her in my life, and now it’s like something savage and primitive is stirring awake inside me. “And why should I show you any mercy?”
She blinks back the tears and says something, but it’s too muffled to understand, so I peel my hand back, wet from her saliva. If she tries to scream, I swear to God, I can’t be held responsible for what I do next.
“Please, Jackson,” she says, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I can’t stay here. I can’t.”
Well, she is staying here. That’s not up for debate. But, hey, I’m curious. “Why not?”
Her mouth clamps shut, and she looks up at me, blinking, like she’s considering whether or not to tell me. Now, I’m really curious.
While I’m waiting for her to confess whatever the fuck it is, I tug her shirt open, which sends her buttons flying.
The Isca uniform includes a black bow-tie that she must’ve removed before she reached the parking lot.
With the shirt now gaping open, her white, lacy bra is exposed—two pink nipples pressed against the transparent fabric.
Mmm, yes.
“Tell me,” I say, reaching up to cup her breast through her bra. Her nipple is already hard, and suddenly, I can barely fucking breathe.
She draws in a sharp breath, like she’s being cut with a knife, but she’s smart enough not to resist me. “My, um…” Another sharp breath. “...my dad. I can’t leave him. His health isn’t good.”
“You have an older sister,” I point out. She’s much older, by ten years. Olivia. “She can handle him.”
“She has enough to deal with.”
I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but I don’t care enough to ask. My sole focus is on Ava. Everyone else will just have to fuck right off until I can get shit handled. But before I can do that, I need her compliance…
Roughly, I push her shirt over her shoulders and down her arms, pulling it free, and letting the fabric fall to the floor. Then I slide her bra straps down her arms, but before I can strip it away completely, she brings her hands up and holds it in place.
I arch a brow. “Lower your hands.”
She hesitates for several seconds before finally letting her hands drop to her sides.
“Good girl,” I praise, pulling her bra down to expose her full, creamy breasts. They’re larger than I remember, heavier, and even more enticing, if that’s even fucking possible.
Leaning in, I run my tongue down the column of her throat. She tastes exactly how I remember—like sweet cream. The flavor is uniquely hers, and it’s seared into my fucking brain. My cock twitches. “Now, tell me the real reason you’re so desperate to leave,” I say against her skin.
“Because I hate you,” she says firmly, but there’s a hitch in her voice, like she’s trying hard to suppress her body’s response to me. But I know her better than she thinks. “Isn’t that a good enough reason?”
I chuckle against her warm skin. “You’ll come around. You girls always do.”
Ava is more stubborn than most girls I’ve been with. But in my twenty-one years on this planet, I’ve discovered one universal truth: a skilled tongue can twist fury into surrender before they even realize it’s happening.
She stiffens. “You girls?” she repeats with a thread of snark in her tone. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it almost sounded like jealousy.
I press my palms against the wall behind her, caging her in, my tongue skating across her soft skin. “You’re deflecting.”
“Answer my question first. I deserve to know why you’ve ripped me away from my life, from the people I love…” Her throat flicks under my tongue. “Why am I really here, Jackson?”
She’s afraid. I can hear it in her voice. And she should be. I’m not the hero in her story. I’m not good. I’m not safe. I’m the knife you pray doesn’t find your throat.
“Because we have unfinished business,” I say, pressing my hips against hers. The truth runs so much deeper, but revealing it would only drag us both into hell. So that’s all she’s getting from me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. Whatever it is can wait—until it buzzes again. And again. With a curse, I fish my phone out of my pocket. It’s Andre, head of our security team.
There’s someone here for you. She says her name is Ember.
Fuck. Ember.
What the fuck does she want?
If she’s standing on my doorstep, then it can’t be good.
I slide a hand into my back pocket, pull out a syringe, pop the cap with my thumb, and sink the needle into Ava’s arm—quick, ruthless—before she even knows what’s happening.
“Sorry, Doe-Eyes,” I murmur as she gasps. “We’ll have to finish this later.”
First, I have to deal with the problem standing on my porch.