offered plenty of shade, but Jackson hadn’t removed the hat or the sunglasses. He was now clean-shaven. A snowy white T-shirt pulled across his wide chest and shoulders and hung looser around his taut abs.
Age had worn out his faded jeans in select places, such as at the knees, the hems and where they cupped his sex.
Even now, so tranquil, he looked…impressive.
The bombardment of awareness stiffened her knees.
Memories of touching his body, tasting his hot flesh, sent a tide of sensation through her veins. She remembered wrapping her hand around his erection, how he’d groaned all deep and rough, the insanely sexual things he’d whispered to her as suggestions and encouragement, how he’d covered her hand with his own, showing her how hard to squeeze, how fast to stroke….
His total lack of inhibition had left her free to be less inhibited.
She swallowed audibly—and stared some more.
He sat with his long legs loose, one foot braced on a step, the other stretched out, his elbows back, his breathing deep and even.
Alani licked her lips and started to slowly, silently retreat.
“Don’t make me chase you, darlin’.”
Shock snapped her shoulders back. The big faker!
He’d been watching her watch him… Ohhhhh. “I thought you were asleep!”
“And so you figured you could rape me with your pretty eyes? Or will you deny that?”
If she had a rock close by, she’d throw it at him. Teeth set, Alani asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Whatever it takes.” Lazily, he sat upright. Muscles flexed. His shirt pulled tight. With a thumb, he tipped back his hat. Sweat dampened his temples, leaving the ends of his dark blond hair curly. “Where you been anyway? I’ve been baking out here for hours.”
Something in his tone sounded…off. He was just as outrageous as always, but the cocky edge had waned, almost as if he was sick or worried, or both. She didn’t care.
“It’s none of your business, Jackson.”
The barely perceptible curling of his mouth alarmed her. “Full of spice this afternoon, huh?”
Determined to brazen her way through things, Alani put back her shoulders and charged forward. “I’m full of disgust.”
His mouth firmed. “At what we…did?”
Uncertainty didn’t suit him at all. “At myself, actually.” Breath held, she stepped around Jackson, but he didn’t touch her. At the front door she shifted the bags into one arm and, with fumbling hands, fished her keys from her purse. “I should have known better than to—”
His mouth skimmed the back of her neck. Low, sultry, he suggested, “Let’s talk about what we did.”
Fire raced down her spine, and her legs turned to noodles. In an instant, Alani’s mind took her back to his bed where he’d kissed her nape just like that while he slowly took her—doggy-style, he’d called it—from behind, burying himself deep, his arms around her, his hands holding her breasts….
“Stop it!” She shoved the door open and tried to slam it closed again. It bounced off Jackson’s shoulder.
She raced in.
Of course he followed.
Making a beeline for her kitchen, she said with as much venom as she could manage given the fluttering of her stomach, “Get out.”
Not more than two steps behind her, his boot heels sounded on her tile floor.
Her packages held in front of her like a shield, Alani spun around to face him. She sounded far too panicked when she screeched, “I mean it, Jackson!”
He stopped and stared at her. Tension crackled between them.
For a few seconds there, Jackson looked as if he might leap on her, but instead, he chewed his bottom lip, then retreated a step, moving as if not to startle her.
Cajoling, he said, “Take it easy, okay?”
Given the riot of emotions clamoring inside her, taking it easy wasn’t an option. “Don’t placate me!”
Without a word, he set his hat on the counter and tipped his head. Fists low on his lean hips, expression enigmatic, he studied her, all of her. Suddenly her casual, comfy sundress felt insubstantial. Around Jackson, she needed a damn suit of armor.
The concentrated scrutiny left her fidgeting, too warm and vulnerable.
In a rough whisper, he said, “God’s truth, darlin’, I don’t mean to ride roughshod over your feelings, but I need to see you again.” And before she could react to the hunger in his tone, he added, “I don’t suppose we could put this little confrontation on hold long enough for me to appease my curiosity?”
Curiosity? He’d already seen her in great detail throughout the long night. He hadn’t been shy about looking, either.
Where Trace and Dare treated her with kid gloves, Jackson just treated her like a woman he wanted. It was sort of nice in small doses…when he didn’t go overboard.
In light of all that had transpired, his outrageous suggestion was way over the line. Alani threw the clothing bags at him.
The packages landed against his chest and then hit the floor.
He barely flinched at the assault. “I take that as a no?”
“No!”
He cocked a brow at her outburst and then caught her as she tried to shove around him. He was so big and so solidly muscular, it proved too easy for him to wrap her up in his arms and lock her in close, her back against his chest, his forearms under her breasts. “Shh, baby. Don’t.”
Those sultry memories, along with his heat and scent and sex appeal, enveloped her as surely as his body did. Desperate, almost panicked, Alani demanded, “Let me go.”
She felt him flinch, wrapped tight around her. “Sorry, love. Can’t.”
Love. He would dare to use that word now? Her throat tightened in a panic. “Jackson—”
His breath moved past her ear as he whispered, “Give me just a sec, okay?”
She heard the pain in his words, and that calmed her struggle.
“Better,” he breathed and relaxed his hold.
Worry overtook outrage, and she tried to twist to see him. “What’s wrong?”
The tension intensified, and then he said, “I don’t remember a damned thing.”
“About what?”
He rocked her a little, and his voice lowered even more. “Everything. I’m…blank.”
