Track 20
ALANA
My body is drained, shot from the vicious waves of adrenaline and fear that took their turns on me.
Fear for Jake. Fear of Derek. Fear for me.
Derek was arrested shortly after his wounds were tended to. He’ll need a few stitches over his left brow, and his top lip will have a pretty rough scar, but other than that and a concussion, the EMTs claimed he’ll be fine.
Turns out he had an outstanding warrant to accompany the illegal prescription drugs he was already carrying—go figure.
The officer said he’ll likely be sentenced in Texas before extradition to Florida for his other crimes.
I don’t know the logistics behind any of it, but I don’t really care.
All I know is Derek will be gone for a long, long time, and that’s more than enough for me.
My climb up the stairs is slow and grueling. Every muscle in my body cries out as I make it to the landing. I look down at my keys, searching to pull the right one out before my eyes meet my door. My heart stops cold in my chest.
Jake is sitting at the foot of my door, wearing his exhaustion like a badge of honor.
His hair is sloppily pushed back, his head tilted upwards as he leans against the door behind it.
His shoulders are slumped, arms resting on his knees, legs spread wide.
The sleeves of his gray thermal are pushed up to his elbows, the fabric coated with splats of crimson. Blood from him and Derek.
I walk to him slowly, his eyes opening just as I come to kneel between his scuffed black boots. He looks down the bridge of his nose at me. Worn, battered, and bruised. Like a warrior.
My eyes travel over his inflictions, taking each one in at a time.
There’s a small slice across the bridge of his nose, another just under his left eye.
Both are already turning a purplish blue.
His right brow looks like it could use a butterfly stitch, maybe two—no doubt the work of Derek’s ring.
His beautiful bottom lip is split just off the center, dried blood already beginning to bond the wound.
His knuckles are red and raw. Two are split as if they hit something sharp. A tooth, maybe.
Before I even know it’s happening, my fingers are grazing every cut.
Proof of his willingness to defend me, to save me when I needed to be saved.
I trail my fingers from his ravaged hands and up his arms to the patterned spots of blood on his shirt.
I whisp my fingers gently along his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow as I trace his jaw and then his lips.
I can hear the tremble that comes in his next breath, and my beyond exhausted body suddenly feels revived.
“Come,” I say, my voice shocking me with its warm calmness. “Let me clean you up.”
I stand in the space between his legs and offer my hand to him. He places his hand in mine, using his other to push himself off the floor as he stands with a groan.
I unlock my door, tugging him in behind me and letting it fall shut.
“Stay here,” I tell him as we enter the dark kitchen. “I‘ll be right back.”
I walk through the living room to the bathroom, turning on a small table lamp on the way. I gather my first aid kit, along with alcohol, gauze, and Vaseline.
When I get back to the kitchen, Jake is leaning back on his hands against the counter, lost in thought.
I freeze, my jaw falling slack. I’m still stunned to see him like this, marked and rundown.
Somehow, he’s insanely sexy. Rugged and masculine.
His large frame fills my small kitchen so perfectly, I almost don’t want to touch him.
A few silent seconds pass before his head turns to me. His eyes land on mine with a dangerous heat. The fire it breeds licks at the center of my soul and makes my mouth go dry.
I shake my head to bring myself back to reality. “I grabbed everything I could find,” I say, explaining the medical supplies in my arms.
His eyes follow me, but he doesn’t move as I place everything on the counter beside him. I separate the supplies so they’re readily available when I need them, then turn to look up at Jake.
“It’s gonna be a little hard for me to reach. You’re kind of tall.”
“I can bend down.”
He pushes off the counter, moving to his knees, and I stop him.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just…” I hop onto the counter, giving me a few more inches in height. “There,” I say, meeting him eye to eye.
His hands takes residence on either side of my legs, just an inch or two between them and me.
I part my legs enough for him to stand comfortably between them.
He leans his head down, and his eyes pour into mine with a quiet ferocity.
Dark and intense. My heart rate kicks up, and my skin pricks with a need I shouldn’t feel at a time like this.
I blink my eyes away from his, grabbing the gauze and wetting it with alcohol.
“How’s your wrist?” he asks. His gravelly voice vibrates in my chest and down to my center.
“It’s okay,” I say lightly. “Nothing in comparison to what he ended up with.”
Jake’s lips pull tight to one side so quickly that I almost miss it. His eyes are unrelenting as he watches me, telling me how sorry he is. How ashamed he is of his actions. But also telling me he’d do it again if he had to. No questions asked.
We hold each other's gaze, then I tend to his wounds.
“This is gonna hurt,” I warn.
He nods and takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. I gently dab the alcohol-soaked pad against the lesion over his brow. It’s deeper than I thought, and blood begins to pour out of it. I apply more pressure, and he grunts in response, his jaw clenching, his hands becoming fists at my sides.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I say quickly, lightening the pressure but not releasing my hold on him. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” he replies through gritted teeth. “Keep going.”
I continue to work on the gash, alternating between patting and blowing before I adhere two butterfly stitches over it and apply a thin layer of Vaseline on top.
I do the same to the smaller cuts on the bridge of his nose, under his eye, and then move to his lip.
I clean the dried blood from around the split, lessening the size of the wound.
I pat and blow again, not noticing the way my fingers trail the fullness of his perfect lips.
My eyes seem focused on the task at hand, but in my mind, my mouth is already on his, his hot tongue forcing my lips apart.
His wounded hands explore my body, thrusting between my legs.
My breathing shallows. I’m everywhere but here right now, and the desire is rolling inside me in luscious waves.
I drop my hand, closing my eyes as I beg the rising want to go away. Beg this untimely need to dissipate. To—
The warmth of Jake’s hands on the top of my thighs severs my thoughts, a nervous, pleasured wave striking my belly.
His thumbs move in small, caressing circles while his fingers wrap around the backs of my legs.
My eyes snap open, my sight confirming the sensation I’m feeling is real.
A roaring desire ignites in my core at his beautifully flawed hands on my body.
It flares with a life of its own, settling as an unbearable yearning between my legs.
My lungs are shaking. My eyes track his chest that rises and falls just as quickly as my own.
When my gaze finds his, the primal need in it awakens a dark and twisted heat in me that has me ready to throw my whole world into the flames.
“Alana.”
My eyes slam shut, and my head rolls back in pleasure at the gritty way he says my name. I can feel it like a tantalizing stroke against my body, traveling up my chest and wrapping around my heart, squeezing it tight until it bursts. He brings his forehead down to mine.
“Tell me what happens next,” he breathes.
I almost choke on the words that climb up my throat. At the way my entire body tingles with an aching hunger only he can feed.
Jake’s hand slithers up my chest, circling around the base of my throat. It’s absolutely electrifying. I swallow hard beneath his hand, my eyes shooting open with a lustful desire staining them.
“Tell me,” he rasps, his head tilted just enough. The way his breath dances against my lips… It’s too fucking much to resist.
I grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine, slamming us together until we’re fused as one. His hand tightens against my throat, the other gripping my leg as he pulls me flush against him. My hands tangle in his hair as he pulls me even closer.
He kisses me with power and strength. A fierceness that makes me nearly explode. The copper metallic taste of him swirls on my tongue. Iron and blood. Dirty and damaged. Impure and imperfect.
Just like me.
I moan into his mouth, savoring the taste of it. Of him. Of us.
I reach for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his arms as I pull it off him, his mouth crashing back onto mine the second he’s free. His large hand grips the back of my neck, guiding me where he wants me to go, angling me so he can taste more of me.
I pull my sweater off in one swift motion, my legs wrapping around him and closing the gap the break created.
He kisses and sucks his way down my neck, across my collarbone, over my breasts.
He guides me back until I’m lying flat on the countertop.
The cold surface singes against my back delightfully.
“Tell me what comes next, Alana,” he breathes against my sensitive skin as he kisses around my navel. My hands drift into his hair, and I hum into the feel of him as he lowers between my legs.
“This,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
His thumbs hook into the waist of my jeans, and his hands wrap around my hips. He slides me toward him until my center meets the thick hardness of him. Another pleasured hum escapes me, and I arch into him.
“Say it,” he commands. My whole body vibrates with life. With ache. With need.
“Jake…” I whisper, trying to hold back what little I can. I shouldn’t give in. I shouldn’t let go…