CHAPTER EIGHT
– SEAMUS –
Her body shudders in my arms as she rocks through the pleasure we created.
Jaxie’s still rubbing her hot cunt on my thigh, and the pain in my leg doesn’t diminish the bliss and mental high she gave me.
My cock, painfully restrained in the confinement of my jeans is still spurting cum.
Fuck. I can’t remember a time when I came in my damn pants.
“That’s it. You feel so damn right in my hands, looking gorgeous as fuck when you come,” I whisper as I stare down at her.
Eyes closed, lips swollen and parted, cheeks flushed. So fuckin’ perfect. It feels right to hold her in my arms, knowing she’s the one who gave me the best orgasm I’ve had in years, all while I didn’t even come near her pussy? Hell, I didn’t even pull my cock out of my pants.
Yet, there’s a nagging feeling tugging at my brain. I don’t deserve to tie this woman to me. I’m a moody motherfucker who’s far from perfect. The selfish part in me doesn’t give a shit. The old me would definitely walk away. Hell, run because Jaxie is wifey material.
That thought makes me hold her tighter. I saw Murray’s expression when he laid eyes on her. The reason why he came by three days ago, the bet...I made sure to shoot him a message with the satellite phone to let him know to say the hell away, Ballard too.
“W-what was t-that?” she whispers.
I lean back and place a finger under her chin to look her in the eye. “What was that in a good way? Or a what the fuck did we just do?”
“Good,” she states with determination and a coy smile.
Brushing my lips against hers, I murmur, “Good. More than fucking good.”
Stepping back, I slap her ass, and order, “Get cleaned up. Fuck knows I need to. Then we can go wherever you wanted to go, but I’m driving.”
She narrows her eyes. “H-how d-do you k-know I was g-gonna d-drive?”
“You grabbed your purse, something you haven’t grabbed when you headed out the door the whole time you’ve been here.” I wince at the mess in my pants. “I’m going to clean up, meet you back here in five.”
Turning, I scoop up my cane before heading into my room for a change of clothes and wash myself real quick. A few minutes later I stroll back into the living room. Jaxie walks out of her room dressed in different pants. Her cheeks are still flushed, and there’s a shy smile tugging her lips.
“Did you want to head into town?” I wonder.
She gives a tiny shake with her head. “Home.”
“Home?” Their house is on the outskirts of town. “I thought you brought all the things you needed when Elodie dropped you off.”
All I get is a shrug.
Knowing I’ve been an asshole for the past few days, avoiding her while stalking her every move through the cameras, I tell her, “Let’s go. We want to be back before dark.”
Reaching down, I try to scoop up Macy and with it I put more weight on my bad leg. With Jaxie riding my thigh, I’ve overused my strength. I can barely place my hand on the floor in front of me to prevent a face-plant.
Shame and frustration hit me. Way to mess up in front of the woman I want to impress instead. It strengthens the validation I don’t deserve her, not with my fucked-up body. Becoming angry, I look up and expect to see pity on her face.
Jaxie surprises the fuck out of me when she raises one of her eyebrows and stutters, “K-kissing t-the floor I w-walk on?”
The corner of my mouth twitches.
Pushing off the floor, I grumble, “Lead the way, smartass.”
“F-fine. But y-you’re s-still driving,” she huffs, scoops up Macy, and walks out the door.
Seems like the woman challenges me instead of giving pity, the way I demand she use her mouth to talk instead of her hands. I shake my head, still trying to process, when I follow her out the door, and make sure to lock up.
The security system I installed a few days ago will send a notification to my phone if the motion sensors are triggered. We walk around the house to where a truck is parked. Jaxie digs into her purse to pull out her keys and hands them to me.
I have no clue why she needs to go home, and to be honest?
It’s none of my business. The past few days nothing happened, and I’m still digging through stuff to find out why Dax assigned me to watch over his daughter.
So far, I come up empty at every damn turn.
Well, except for the fact all of it has a direct link to the company.
Dax’s death triggered his will, and Jaxie inherited his shares of the company. Jaxie doesn’t have any relatives left, which means her death will allow her part to be offered to the remaining shareholders. It’s why my main focus has been both Burk and Royce.
At least for the time I could tear my gaze away from the screen to stalk Jaxie. She’s quickly become my obsession. While my assignment is to protect her, I have been fuckin’ paid for it...all I can think about is having her under me, over me, in every way possible.
She’s become my obsession, one I shouldn’t crave, and am definitely unworthy of. Still, I can’t help myself, and keeping my distance clearly did shit when I let her ride my thigh until she orgasmed.
Starting the truck, I focus on the long drive down the mountain instead of Jaxie. Damn hard to do when her scent is filling the tight space we’re locked in for the long ride. Shit. With what we just did? I have no clue where we stand.
The words Murray mentioned when he invited me to a poker game, which I declined through text, still ring inside my head when he called her my girl. My girl. Mine. It sounds perfect. Perfect sounds as good as it gets while nothing rarely is, certainly when it involves me.
“D-do we n-need to check o-on your m-mother?” Jaxie asks after a few minutes of silence.
I throw a glance her way before I concentrate on the road ahead of us when I answer, “She’s fine. She’s been calling me every day.”
Mainly to bug me, making sure I’m nice to Jaxie, and how she’s a sweet girl. Sweet enough to give her grandchildren if I manage to knock her up. Shit. Where the hell did that thought come from?
“Okay.” Her sweet voice carries through the air, like her scent.
Sweet, vanilla with a hint of strawberry and lime.
Clearing my throat, I ask her a personal question to shift the topic, “Did you used to talk with your father by using words or sign?”
“Talk,” she instantly replies. “A-after he j-joined a s-s-speech therapy s-session he talked w-with my t-therapist who told him f-frequency is t-the k-key.”
I shoot her a sly smile. “All the more reason to keep talking to me.”
I catch her rolling her eyes and hear her voice when I focus back on the road. “I o-only talk to E-Elodie, and m-my f-father.”
“And now me,” I tell her, in the hopes to throw her off the fact that she can’t talk to her father anymore.
“You didn’t really g-give me a c-choice,” she grumbles.
I notice her stutter is less if she keeps using her voice, or maybe it’s when she’s less stressed, who knows?
“Mind telling me why you want to go to the house? Didn’t you lock everything up so you could stay at the cabin for the upcoming few months?”
A soft sigh flows from her, and it takes her a few heartbeats to tell me, “I just w-want to check something.”
“Check something,” I echo.
“I k-keep going over e-everything inside my mind.” Sadness weighs heavy in her voice, and it tugs at my heartstrings.
Without thinking, I reach for her hand and lace her fingers with mine. “Everything will be fine.”
“I hope so,” she murmurs without a stutter.
I give our joined hands a squeeze, and vow, “I’ll make it so.”
She squeezes back. “I’m g-glad my father b-brought you into my l-life.”
Fuck. Way to gut-punch my conscience. I give another light squeeze and let go of her hands to grab the wheel. My knuckles turn white as I stare at the road in front of us. Getting involved with a client is a no-go in any situation.
Even if the one who gave me the assignment is now dead, I really shouldn’t get personally involved.
Touching her unraveled something we shouldn’t explore, not when her life could be at stake.
It’s a distraction I can’t afford when my body is already lacking from the abilities I used to have before I retired.