Chapter Twenty-Eight Hollis
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hollis
Jason tipped his head back until his eyes caught mine. The slow burn between us exploded in an instant.
He shoved his firearms aside, then gripped my hips and lifted me onto his bench.
Metal and gun oil bit at my thighs as I instinctively hooked my legs around him, dragging him closer until every hard line of his body pressed flush against mine.
Nose to neck, he inhaled me, his breath hot against my skin, the faint scent of gunpowder bleeding from him, sinking into me. “You smell so fucking good.”
His lips skimmed over my skin as his stubble scraped fire down my throat. One hand braced against the table, the other sliding up my side, probably leaving smudges of oil, branding me as his.
Every nerve sparked, my body strung so tight I might shatter, and he hadn’t even kissed me yet. I didn’t remember sex, but instinct whispered that no one had ever made me feel this way before.
“Oil and vinegar,” he ground out, like that was his last-ditch effort to remind us this was a mistake.
“If anyone can make those two mix”—I clutched his arms for balance—“it’s us.”
His answer was a curse against my mouth, swallowed by the hungry crash of his lips over mine.
His kiss was rough, almost punishing at first, until it softened into something desperate.
My back arched as his tongue found mine. His hand swept into my hair, and he fisted it while drawing his other around my throat as he’d done in the kitchen. This time not to hold me, but to find my pulse, as if needing proof I was real. That this was really happening.
He deepened our kiss, and the rumble of his groan vibrated through me. Every stroke of his tongue and his touch pulled me apart piece by piece.
He destroyed me a moment later by tearing his mouth from mine. “This isn’t right.”
“No, it’s—”
“No, I mean, it’s too fast.” His hands framed my face as his gaze pierced mine, raw and unguarded. “It’s been . . . years for me.”
Years? How long has it been for me? I really hated I didn’t know the answer to that.
“I’m not supposed to . . .” He let his voice trail off, kissing me instead, gentler this time, unraveling me even more than before.
I melted into him, dizzy and drunk on every kiss. We moved together in perfect sync, a dance that was only ours. His mouth guided mine, anchoring me to something solid, something real, which was a blessing after what I’d been through the last few days.
A few minutes later, he hoisted me off the bench, my legs remaining locked around his waist. He carried me through the gym, and I twined my wrists at the back of his neck. Somehow he managed to wrestle the door open without letting me go.
In the hall, he had me up against the wall, his mouth finding mine again. One hand slammed beside my shoulder, and the other gripped my ass as his hard length pressed into me.
I caught his moan with my tongue. He swallowed my breathless cries of surrender.
Paws scratched the floor, along with a whimper. Jason lifted his head, eyeing our company.
“Not hurting her, boy, I promise,” he said, a laugh falling under his breath, and the sound was low and sinful. “But I do need her to myself. Now git.”
“Your bed,” I begged after Ranger followed his command. “Please.”
He lightly nodded his As you wish. By the time we crashed into his bedroom, the world outside didn’t exist. Just heat, need, and him.
He set me on the edge of the bed, swept the pillows aside, and pulled the covers back in one rough motion. Then he laid me out like I belonged there, like I really was his wife in that dream.
His shirt hit the floor, and he unbuttoned the top of his jeans but left them on. His muscles flexed in the low light. “I got you dirty,” he muttered, shaking his head.
I glanced at the dark smudges streaking my arms and thighs. Probably my face, too. “I don’t care.”
His grin curved slowly and dangerously before he joined me, and I straddled him, the heavy weight of his erection pressed through his jeans. Heat spiked down my spine. Leaving on my chain, I stripped my shirt and bra off in one motion, baring myself without hesitation.
A guttural sound tore from his throat and his hand closed over my breast, the other cupping my chin to drag me back into the kiss.
I propped my hands on each side of him for support to give him my mouth.
We’re in his bed together, not a dream this time. No waking alone. This was real. Him. Me. Us.
My pulse thundered with his every touch, every caress. Every spine-tingling sensation this man delivered.
Time blurred as we lost ourselves in kisses, his fingers teasing my nipples, his other hand tracing my curves as if memorizing me.
Desperation clawed through me. I wanted his hands between my thighs. On every inch of me.
I sat upright on top of him, and he held my hips and stared at me as if I were his everything. And my God, he made me feel like I was. This me, the old me, it didn’t matter. Right now, I was his, and he was mine. That was all I knew.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice cracked as he cupped my cheek.
“Still drive you nuts?” I smirked.
“Absolutely.”
I licked my lips, my eyes falling to his bare chest, longing and desire pulling me apart. I lazily ran my nail across his rib, following the writing tattooed there.
He removed my hand, his eyes shooting to the ceiling. “I . . . forgot, and I—I can’t forget.”
Forget what? “Because I can’t remember who I am?
” Panic pushed into my throat, forcing my next words to be a little mumbled.
“I still want you, that doesn’t change anything.
” I freed my wrist from his hold and rested my hand over that sensitive spot on my chest. “I’m still here, remember?
My soul. I’m making my own choices, and I choose you.
” In a shaky voice, I continued, fighting back tears, “I choose this. Right now, right here.”
When he remained quiet, refusing to make eye contact, I rolled off and lay down beside him.
He slid his legs over to the side of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor. His spine bowed, muscles drawn tight as he covered his face with his hands. “You don’t understand.”
I shifted to sit next to him, rubbing his back, and he tensed from my touch. “Then help me understand.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’m a walking complication. Then and now. But I’m here with you, and I want to be. Not because of a dream.” Well, maybe that dream had led me here, but I was staying because of what we had before, what I knew deep in my bones we had now.
He let his hands fall to the bed on either side of him. He slanted his head to steal a look at me, his gaze clashing with mine, keeping me a prisoner to whatever pain he was feeling with that heavy, somber expression crossing his face.
He broke first, stood and picked up his shirt. “You should shower. Gun oil and all,” he said as if in a daze, holding his shirt between his palms, eyes on the floor, like he was ashamed of what happened between us. The opposite held true for me.
I rose and followed his cues and snatched my shirt, hiding my breasts behind the material. My instinct was to argue, to fight back, but I couldn’t, not with how distraught he looked.
“Okay,” I agreed, then started for the bathroom, unsure how we’d gone from reckless abandon to a cold, hard stop. I tossed my shirt and glanced back at him. “I’m leaving this open.”
He was still clutching his shirt like a lifeline, shoulders forward under a weight I couldn’t see. He didn’t look at me, and I accepted the rejection and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open as an invitation in case he changed his mind.
Shorts and panties off, I stepped into the shower with only the chain on, hanging back, away from the spray, as I waited for the water to warm up.
Once it did, I stood there, numb and confused, only to startle a minute later at a shadow on the other side of the glass.
With a trembling hand, I slid the door open. Jason was leaning against the doorframe, still shirtless, his chest heaving. Dark eyes raked down my body, lingering between my legs, which had my body reacting immediately, a pulse of heat shooting through me.
“Talk to me.” I held out my hand, water trailing down my skin. “Or at least . . . come to me.”
“There are things about me . . . things you don’t know.” His eyes drifted back up my body, heavy with both desire and pain. “But I do want you. More than I can put into words. You have no idea how much, which is why”—he shook his head—“I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you.”
I sniffled, my tears hidden by the shower. “I don’t need answers if you’re not ready to give them.” My tongue darted over my lips. “Just come in here with me. That’s all.”
The muscle in his jaw jumped, forehead tightening, too. “Jeans stay on. If I take them off . . . and if you ask me to make love to you, I will. I won’t have the willpower to say no.”
I knew in my heart we couldn’t rush into sex, even if everything in me screamed to do that. I didn’t even remember my past sex life, my birth control situation—none of it.
“Okay,” I agreed. Anything to have him in here with me. “And as for the jeans—do whatever you need to do. Just be here with me.”
He pushed away from the doorframe and slowly came over, denim clinging to the thick outline of his erection.
When his palm met mine, the world stilled. Like something permanent clicked into place.
“So much for my three-foot rule and pretending to hate you,” he rasped, fingers threading with mine.
My body trembled, from the cold air and from everything he made me feel. “Well, you said you’re not a liar. So what’s the truth?”
He leaned closer without joining me, the shower spray bouncing off me to hit him.
His lashes dripped, eyes dark as black glass beneath them.
“The truth?” His mouth coaxed open mine. “That I’ll never be the same after today. That I want you, Hollis.” His kiss deepened, tender and certain. “And God help me, no matter how much I try and convince myself I can’t have you, that doesn’t change the fact I know I’ll always want you.”