9. Ember #2
We walked into a beautiful dining room with a giant, contemporary art piece on one of the walls, directly across from big windows showing off the view of the storm. I sat down next to Jack, keenly aware of the brush of his arm against mine, the nudge of his knee against my leg.
He probably didn’t even know he was touching me.
I needed to get a grip.
“What a storm,” Oren announced as he walked in. “Look at that.” He stared out the window, shaking his head.
“Thank you for hosting us tonight,” I said.
Jack nodded. “Apologies for not getting your system up and running. Two of our guys from Ellsworth should be here soon, so we’ll have patrols around the property to make up for the gap in coverage.”
“I saw your email,” Oren said with a nod. “Good work. Now. Ember. Tell me how you two met.” His eyes twinkled as he sat down across from us, gaze only on me.
Jack shifted in his seat, then put his arm around the back of my chair. Possessive. I shouldn’t have liked it as much as I did. Shouldn’t have liked it at all.
“We met through Etta Mars,” I said, which was sort of true. “Kind of, um, a matchmaking thing.”
Oren brightened. “The arranged marriage scheme? I read about that in the local paper.” He laughed. “I thought there was something strange going on here.” He tilted his wine glass toward the two of us.
Jack tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Oren spread his palms, smiling genially. “Just that you two don’t strike me as people who would click under normal circumstances.”
“And why’s that.” Jack’s voice was flat. Angry.
But how could he be angry about something that was so patently true? I was so ordinary, and Jack was so…Jack.
If I were some catch, I would get some sort of male attention. I would’ve had more than one single boyfriend in my life.
Oren laughed, which only seemed to make Jack angrier. “I’m just surprised, is all,” Oren said. “Ember is one of a kind.” He glanced at me, and the way he held my gaze made me want to squirm.
But not in the way Jack made me want to squirm. This was uncomfortable.
Especially since I knew Jack hated it.
I cleared my throat. “You have a beautiful home,” I said in a clumsy attempt to change the subject. Oren accepted the compliment gracefully, and then the first course was served.
Jack was mostly silent and brooding next to me, and he seemed relieved when the meal was over. We headed back to our room and got ready for bed in silence. Two sets of pajamas had been left on the bed while we were out, on top of the turned-down bedding. It was like being at a hotel, but way nicer.
Outside, the rain had quieted to a dull patter. The thunder had moved on, and it seemed the worst of the storm had passed.
But we were still stuck here tonight. I gulped as I walked out of the bathroom, eyes flicking to where Jack sat on his side of the bed.
Shirtless.
My eyes snagged on the breadth of his shoulders and all that golden skin on display. My fingers itched to run over his chest, to feel the coarseness of the hair there, to feel the heat of him against my palms.
I tore my gaze away, breathless.
“I can sleep on the chair if you’re uncomfortable,” Jack said.
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Sorry?”
“If you don’t want to share a bed.” His jaw clenched. “I know you don’t like touching me.”
“It’s not—” I clamped my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to tell him that every time he touched me, I had a tiny detonation between my legs, was I?
“Ember.”
I hated when he said my name like that, all warm and rumbly and male. I shook my head. “You’re not sleeping on an armchair when there’s a perfectly good bed right here. It’s big enough for the two of us.”
I hoped.
Jack nodded, eyes tracking me as I moved to the other side of the bed and climbed in under the covers.
It felt like being watched by a hungry wolf.
Stalked. Like I was prey. The pajamas I’d been given were soft pants and a loose T-shirt, but I still felt exposed.
The bed dipped as I climbed in. I flicked the big, fluffy duvet over my legs and shimmied down onto the luxurious pillow.
All the while, I was intensely, unbearably aware of the man sitting a few inches to my left. My heart thrummed, and I felt the pulse everywhere. In my wrists. My knees. Between my legs.
As a rule, I was not a sexual person. I rarely got turned on.
This was unfamiliar territory. My brain frantically tried to come up with an explanation, but the only thing I could settle on was that I liked Jack.
I liked the way I felt when I was around him.
I liked the way he looked at me. I liked his laugh, and his voice, and the way he relaxed when he was with his daughter.
I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my back to him, needing to get a grip.
“You sure you don’t want me to sleep on the chair?” There was a thread of humor in his tone. He could tell I was tense. He didn’t know it was because I was wondering what it would feel like to have his weight on top of me. To find out what all those other women already knew.
“Go to sleep, Jack,” I grumbled, pulling the blankets up to my chin.
He huffed a laugh, then flicked his light off. It took me a long time to fall asleep.
JACK
I listened to the rain and the sound of Ember’s soft breaths, and I wanted.
Wanted to slide my hand over her waist and feel the curve of her hip.
Wanted to roll her onto her back and fit myself in the cradle of her thighs.
Wanted to swallow every gasp, every moan, every hitched breath.
Wanted to feel the tight clasp of her and make her tell me she belonged to me.
This wasn’t the lust I was accustomed to. It wasn’t scratching an itch with the nearest available woman. This was something burrowed deep inside me, some need I hadn’t known I had.
And Ember didn’t want me at all.
She flinched every time I touched her. She blushed when people questioned our relationship. She avoided looking at me unless it was necessary. She wanted nothing to do with me.
I deserved this in repayment of my last ten years of debauchery. Deserved it for wanting someone as badly as I wanted her.
I wasn’t allowed to want this way. Wasn’t allowed to get happiness for myself. That ship had sailed. It had crashed against the rocks and shattered into the hungry sea.
None of the women who had slept with me actually wanted me. They wanted pleasure, or money, or distraction. No one had looked into my battered soul and said, yes, you. I choose you.
When Ember began to mutter and whimper in her sleep, I couldn’t resist the urge to reach over and stroke her arm. She rolled onto her back, her face drawn with whatever bad dream was plaguing her spirit. A tortured sound slipped through her lips, and it speared straight through my heart.
I acted before I could overthink it, my arms curling around her, pulling her against my chest.
Her body eased against mine, small hand curling over my heart.
She let out another noise—a softer, more content little mewl—and fell into a deep sleep, her head resting between my shoulder and chest. She fit against me like she was made to be there.
Staring at the ceiling, I tried to ignore the weight of her arm across me and the leg she’d thrown over mine.
I pretended the feel of her gentle breaths across my collarbones didn’t affect me.
Pretended my cock wasn’t stirring at her nearness.
It was wrong to touch her like this. To want her like this, when I knew she didn’t want me back.
But I fell asleep with my arms around her anyway.
Thankfully, I woke up before her and was able to extricate myself from her limbs without disturbing her, and without her witnessing what her closeness did to me.
I padded to the attached shower and stood under the spray for long minutes before I finally gave up and wrapped my hand around my stiff shaft.
It was her face I saw when pleasure shattered through me. Her name that slipped out on a gasp, muffled by the sound of the falling water.