Home To You Read online

  Waves of pleasure rolled over, crashed around her, and stole her breath. It was too much, but he released the suction and soothed it with the flat of his tongue, all the while filling her with his fingers, going deeper with every pass, harder, faster, filling her until she burned. So deep she swore he’d touched her womb. But even the little bit of pain increased her pleasure, adding layer upon layer of feeling as one orgasm rolled into something so much more.

  *

  Jax had never been so nervous in his life. Not even his first time. But, then, his first time hadn’t been with an inexperienced girl. Avery hadn’t been that much older than him, but she was no girl; she was a woman, and she was a connoisseur of sex. She had turned out to be an excellent teacher, and he had been a most willing student. She’d taught him almost everything he knew about pleasuring a woman’s body, and he knew a lot. He had that part down; it was just the emotional connection he had problems with.

  Kendall was so small and tight that even after three orgasms, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt her. And he didn’t know how, after holding back for days, if he’d be able to cling to his control.

  He kept her balanced on the edge of orgasm, drawing her higher and higher. Each one stronger than the last. She’d opened her body to him, her heart, her mind. Good thing he’d perfected the one-handed condom application, because if he stopped, if he lost contact, she’d fall away, and he didn’t want to lose her, lose this.

  “Kendall, look at me.”

  Her eyes slid open and focused on his—dark and dreamy and so unguarded, so trusting, so sweet.

  He kissed her, making love to her mouth as he slipped his fingers from within her. Tilting her hips and blowing out a breath, he slid the head of his erection inside her. He groaned and forced himself to stop when all he wanted to do was thrust into her, to claim her, to possess her, to pleasure her. Shit, she brought his inner caveman to the surface. His jaw clenched, his temple throbbed, and damned if his vision didn’t blur.

  “Jack?” her breathy voice had his balls drawing up. “Jack, I need you.” Then her hands came around him, drawing him closer. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she bucked against him, pulling him in, and when he retreated, her ankles tightened, stopping his withdrawal.

  He pressed in closer, moving slowly, hanging on to the last threads of his control.

  “Jack, please. I need—”

  “What do you need, sweetheart?”

  Her dark eyes opened and her stare drilled into him, her nails dug into his shoulders, and her legs tightened like a vise around his hips. “I need you. I need all of you.”

  His control snapped and he thrust into her. He heard her cry out, but couldn’t stop. Every stroke drew him closer, deeper, and farther toward the edge, and she met him thrust for thrust. She was demanding, dragging his mouth to hers, sucking on his tongue and raking her teeth over it.

  Kendall went wild in his arms, completely open, completely uninhibited, completely his. Her body spasmed around him, dragging him into the abyss, guiding him as he flew and catching him when he landed.

  Jax concentrated on breathing, the sound of Kendall’s heart racing beneath his ear, and the caress of her hand sliding hypnotically over his shoulders and down his back in soft, fluid patterns. He knew he should roll over—he was probably crushing her—but he was loath to break the connection; once he did, it would disappear like it had never existed. He’d lose the feeling of wonder and wholeness. He’d never felt whole before. But in this moment, he was complete, stable, happy. Oh, fuck, he was happy.

  *

  So that’s what she’d been missing. Kendall had half a mind to send David a nasty text—or her condolences. She wondered what else was different with Jack. Other than the obvious: the man could ring her bell without even taking off her panties. David couldn’t ring it if she’d held it out for him and showed him where to put the mallet.

  She lay beneath Jack, loving the weight of his big, hard body covering hers, and the fact he was still inside her and seemingly content to stay right there. He wasn’t rolling out of bed to shower or wash up, as if trying to erase any evidence of her on him.

  Her hands slid over his shoulders and down his back, exploring, learning, caressing. She’d wondered if he was asleep. And then every muscle in his entire body seized. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He pushed himself up, taking his weight on his forearms, and slid deeper inside her. Her inner muscles tightened around him, and heat surged through her.

  Jack closed his eyes and kissed her like he was searching for something, desperately demanding a response to an unasked question. Her mind knew something was wrong, but her body didn’t get the memo. Neither, it seemed, did his. He reached down, raising her thigh to his hip, changed the angle of penetration, and slid deeper. His pelvic bone hit that perfect spot, and she bucked against him.

  He wasn’t kidding when he said he could go for hours. This time, though, he didn’t make eye contact. It felt as if he were intentionally avoiding it. The distance scared her. “Jack.”

  A sheen of sweat rose on his chest and back, and he drove her on but didn’t answer.

  “Jack, please. Look at me.”

  His eyes met hers and she saw a flash of panic; then he blinked and it was gone. He held her gaze and thrust into her to the hilt and stilled. His erection pulsed, sending little sparks cascading through her. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

  “You. I want all of you.” Even the parts of him he hid from the world—she wanted them. She never wanted him to hide from her.

  “That’s a damn good thing, because, Kendall, you already have me. The good, the bad, and the damaged.” He brushed the hair off her forehead and kissed each eyelid, then her nose and the corners of her mouth before tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue.

  He loved her slowly, holding her gaze as if he were afraid to blink. He drove her up with a swivel of his hips and unerring aim and held her there, riding the edge of the wave until he sent her flying higher yet, and then buried his face in her neck and let go.

  She lay in his arms and listened to his heart slow.

  “Be right back.” He gave her a quick kiss and rolled out of bed and walked naked to the bathroom to take care of the condom. She enjoyed the show, because she’d never seen a more beautiful man.

  He slid back in beside her, wearing nothing but a smirk. “Like what you see?”

  “Yes.”

  Jack pulled her closer so they lay on their sides facing each other.

  Her mind raced as his hand slid soothingly up and down from her shoulder to her hip. Mesmerizing. Everything she thought she’d known about sex had been wrong. Questions flew through her mind. Was it that David was horrible lover, or was it just that Jack was amazing? Could it be both? Was there something about Jack—a chemical reaction—that made her hot, or was it just David that shot her into the subzero range?

  “You’re awfully quiet. It’s not a natural state for you. Having second thoughts?”

  After just having the best, most intense, most intimate sex of her life? Hardly. “Second thoughts about you and me? No, absolutely not.” She pushed him onto his back and pulled herself up on his chest so she could see his face.

  “But you’re upset about something.” He shoved his arm under his head, and she wanted to trace the line of muscle with her tongue. He ran the pad of a thumb across her bottom lip, and she wondered if he had somehow rewired her body so his every touch sent shock waves directly to her core. “You always bite your lip when you’re trying to figure something out or you’re upset. Oh, and that death glare you have is pretty scary too.”

  She raised a doubting brow. “I don’t have a death glare.”

  “Next time I see it I’ll take a picture. But I’ll do it from a distance. So, tell me why you’re biting your lip.”

  She’d turned into a walking cliché. She was having her first was-it-good-for-you talk. But not. “Is it always like this?”

  He pushed
a pillow against the headboard and sat up in bed. “Is what always like this?”

  Her face flamed hot enough to make s’mores. She didn’t know what to call what they had just done. Sex? Making love? Sleeping together? Bumping uglies?

  “You’re pretty adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

  When he laughed at her, Kendall hit him with a pillow.

  Jack shot her a grin. “Thanks,” he said, and then shoved the pillow behind his back.

  “You stole my pillow.”

  “I didn’t steal it—I just kept it. You’re the one who gave it to me—no take backs. Now come here and get comfortable.” He pulled her between his open legs and leaned her back against his chest. “There, that’s better. This way we can talk, and I still have fun stuff to play with.”

  “Fun stuff?”

  “Every guy’s dream toys.” He slipped a hand beneath each breast and rubbed his thumbs over the nipples—nipples that stood at attention the second he touched them. “See? It’s like magic. You have beautiful breasts.”

  “They’re not very big.” And they looked even smaller than usual in his big hands.

  “They’re perfectly proportioned for your body.” He traced a figure eight around them with one hand. Over and over. His other hand toyed with her belly button. “So, back to your question. You need to be more specific.”

  She was having a really hard time concentrating with Jack running his hands all over her body. “I don’t know what to label it. Sex? Making love? Whatever it is that we just did. Is it always like that?”

  “For me? No, it’s never been like this.”

  She let out a breath, and the tension bubbled away. Then she realized he hadn’t said it was good or bad, just different. And she’d sooner die than ask, Was it good for you? “How is it different?”

  He was quiet—too quiet. Maybe he was trying to figure out a nice way to tell her she was a really bad lay. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she hummed the theme to Jeopardy! I’ll take difficult sexual conversations for a thousand, Alex.

  Jack gave her boobs a squeeze and made a buzzer sound. “What is the difference between competing in the hundred-meter fly at a club meet and winning the gold at the Olympics?” He drew her closer, his lips brushing her ear and his beard rubbing against her shoulder. “All swim meets are alike—when you’re swimming the hundred fly in any meet, you’re doing the same stroke, the same distance—it’s the same thing. So, basically, there’s no difference when it comes to the act, but competing in the Olympics means so much more. It’s something you train for your whole life, something you dream about from your first swim meet, and not just to compete, but to win the gold—it’s life-changing. Kendall, you’re my gold medal.”

  And just like that, she tumbled head over heels, in deep with Jack. “Wow. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  “So, what about you?” The tip of a callused finger circled her belly, and she remembered what happened earlier when he played with her navel. Her breathing sped up, and she had to fight both her embarrassment and her arousal. She had half a mind to carry on a conversation while playing with his dream toys and see how coherent his answers were.

  She took a deep breath and pressed his hand to her belly, stilling it. “It’s never been like this for me either. But I can’t even say that it’s basically the same thing. It was so different, it would be like comparing curling to professional ice hockey. But I guess that only works if you’re like me and don’t understand curling at all. I mean, who would want to participate in a sport that combines shoving rocks around and cleaning?”

  She felt the rumble of a chuckle through his chest into hers. “God, I spent the past seven years having appallingly bad sex, and I never even knew it. I just thought it was always forgettable and boring—either that, or I was frigid.”

  He choked and coughed, then laughed and resumed his playtime activities. “Frigid? You? That’s hilarious.”

  “Comparing sex with you to what I’ve known would be like comparing a Stanley Cup win to receiving a participation ribbon because you’re on the last-place team in the Pee-Wee Curling League.”

  He blew out a breath that washed over her ear. “Wow, that’s harsh.” The hand beneath hers slid south, close—so close all her stomach muscles tensed—but not touching.

  She put more pressure on his hand to keep it from roaming. “How could I not have known? And now I’m wondering what else I’m completely clueless about. I’m questioning everything.”

  “I’m sorry, but if it makes you feel better, I question everything too.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, like right now, I’m questioning what you’d do if I did this.” He slid his fingers down between her lips. Her hand pressed his harder against her body, at first to stop him and then to guide him. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, and the other hand strummed her nipple in time with his fingers. She would have answered him if she could speak: What is, Having my sixth orgasm, Alex?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jax watched Kendall sleep and thought of all the ways he’d completely and royally fucked up. He should have told her who the hell he was the second he’d met her. But he knew if he’d done that, she’d never have given him the chance to redeem himself in her eyes—which had been his grand plan. Well, that and keep her with him so she didn’t let anyone know he was here.

  As it was, he still didn’t know what he’d done that made her despise him, but whatever it was, he didn’t think it would be easily overcome. Kendall was one of the most stubborn women on the planet. She’d obviously gotten that particular personality trait from her father.

  Oh, man, Teddy. Jax’s normal headache expanded to fill his skull with pain—the kind of pain that made him want to sit alone in a dark room in the fetal position. He couldn’t even think about what Grace and Teddy would do to him if they found out he’d just had the time of his life debauching their youngest daughter, and couldn’t wait to do it again.

  He knew he should have confessed all to Kendall before they’d made love. But if he had, she would have wanted to kill him. He’d seen her reaction when he inferred she’d bought prepared food, and he couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him when she found out she’d been making love to the Grand Pooh-Bah himself. Whether or not he’d survive the experience really didn’t matter; in the end he’d still lose Kendall.

  Jax knew what it was to lose almost everything you loved. Hell, fourteen years ago, he’d lost both his parents, his coach, his swim team, and his shot at the Olympic Trials, and had come way too close to losing his sister.

  Oh yeah, he knew what loss felt like, what it tasted like, what it smelled like, and he knew how it could eat you from the inside out. He was on intimate terms with it, and he’d spent the past fourteen years avoiding ever having to meet the fucker again.

  Somehow Kendall had changed things, and now history would repeat itself and he’d lose everything again. His career, his future, and his dream—Kendall. The fact he was going to lose her was pretty much a given; his only uncertainty was when.

  In his rational mind, he knew nothing this perfect could last. Better to not even go there, avoid it at all cost. He’d spent the past fourteen years keeping his distance. He’d made a kind of art of it. He hadn’t met one person who tempted him enough to even consider bending the rules—until he’d looked into the red-rimmed, puffy eyes of Kendall Watkins.

  He’d known that Kendall was different from the first second he’d spotted her crying in her car. Now he knew he should have sent her down to Jaime’s and let him deal with the fallout. Hell, he should have run to Jaime’s as soon as he’d seen the car and stayed the hell out of it. After all, he’d been in hiding. What the hell had he been thinking?

  His gaze traced the outline of Kendall’s face relaxed in sleep—she was so beautiful, seriously gorgeous on a purely physical level. But when he’d looked into those deep, dark, mysterious eyes, he hadn’t been strong enough to send her away. He�
��d wanted to protect her and keep her with him. He hadn’t planned to take advantage of her, but he’d be damned if he’d let anyone else have the opportunity. He saw how well that worked.

  Kendall slid closer, and the sheet fell below her breasts. She had the look of someone who had been thoroughly loved and completely satisfied—lulled into a post-multiorgasmic stupor, and then she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. Her hair was a tangled mess, her cheeks were red from beard burn, her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her pale skin glowed pink in the light coming from the hall.

  His time was running out. As much as he’d like to, Jax couldn’t keep Kendall in the cabin for the rest of their natural lives—if he could manage it, he would. But Kendall would find out the truth eventually—either when Grace and Teddy returned or as a result of Addie’s innate curiosity. He didn’t know when or how, but he knew the end result: Kendall would hate him.

  She’d hate him for lying to her, hate him for who he was, and hate him for doing the same thing to her that her ex had, and he wouldn’t even blame her.

  He was completely responsible, and when all was said and done, he’d do the one thing he’d never wanted to do to Kendall: he’d hurt her.

  Since there was no way in hell he’d be able to sleep with a headache, he might as well go clean up the mess from dinner. His stomach growled, reminding him that mind-blowing sex always made him hungry. Maybe if he ate something, the headache would recede. It was worth a try.

  He took one more look at Kendall, knowing that all too soon she’d be gone, then slid out of bed, threw on his jeans, and tiptoed out, closing the door behind him.

  Cleaning up the dishes and kitchen was a breeze. All he had to do was finish eating the pizza and salad, which, he had to admit, was pretty good for something green and slightly wilted, and then put the dishes in the dishwasher. No fuss, no muss, and, in his eyes, a miracle.