“Sasha?”
“My head.” It’s being cupped in a warm palm, but it’s still throbbing. Worse than ever.
“Sasha? Can you open your eyes?”
I try, but the stars above my head are disorienting and they whirl, so I close them again. “What happened?”
“I think you fainted.”
“That’s stupid. I don’t faint You drugged me. Or gave me some sleeper-assassin trigger word.”
“What?” He laughs.
“It’s not funny. You’re drugging me.”
“I’m not drugging you, killer. What kind of guy do you think I am? And what was that about sleeper assassins?”
I force my eyes to open to see if his expression matches the laughing tone of his voice. It does. His eyes are twinkling and his grin is wide. “Why am I fainting all of a sudden?”
His eyes narrow and his grin falls. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”
“What’s too much? Getting kicked out of grad school? An unexpected airplane trip with an FBI agent who says he’s stalking me? The revelation that I have a living relative? Talking about being shot by James and left behind by Nick? Which of these things are too much for one day?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, placing his other hand behind my shoulder to encourage me to sit up. “And you’re bleeding. You fell and hit your head on the asphalt. I caught you, but only by the arm. I’m sorry. I should’ve kept you from hitting your head.”
I sit up as he removes his palm from the back of my head and wraps me in his arms. He’s warm. And I’m cold, even in this fancy fur-lined coat. There’s a little bit of wind tonight and it chills me to the bone.
“Do you really want to go home? Because if that’s your decision, then we can go now. I’m not going to force this on you. Especially if it’s going to continue to bring on these panic attacks.”
“I don’t have panic attacks.”
“You don’t faint, either,” he chuckles. “You can call it whatever you want, but the fact is, you’re overwhelmed. So just say it again. Tell me to take you home and I will. No more questions.”
“But what about Nick?”
“I’ll find out what I need without you. It’s OK.”
“No, I mean, we had a deal.”
“We did.”
“And if I refuse to go with you to meet my aunt, then I don’t complete the date?”
He looks at me hard for a moment, studying my face. “If you need me to force you to go forward by holding that over you, I will. But you’re the one calling the shots here tonight, Sasha. And I think you’d start processing all the changes that are happening better if you take control and accept that you want to meet your aunt. You want to know the truth about your family and your place in it.”
I feel the lump in my throat forming, the one that signals the tears that will soon follow. Tears I refuse to show anyone, least of all this man. So I cover my face and start breathing in and out, over and over. Counting my breaths like they teach you in meditation. And when I have things under control again, I lower my hands.
Jax is waiting patiently.
“What can she possibly have to say? What excuse can she have for walking out of my life?”
“They think she’s dead, Sasha. She was only a half-sister to your mother. Your grandfather had an affair. Lots of Company men do this, thinking they can have secret children. Children who won’t have to live by Company rules. But there’s no such thing as secrets in the Company.”
“Not true. I was a secret.”
Jax smiles at me, and then he scoops me up in his arms and stands up like I weigh nothing. We start walking to the car. “You were a damn good secret too. We didn’t know about Ford Aston. He was a wild card. Of course looking back, it all makes sense. You’re connected to Ford through James Fenici, who did a job in Fort Collins where you finished growing up the year after you were supposed to have been killed out in that harbor. Someday you’ll have to tell me how Assassin Number Six managed to shoot you in the chest in front of a dozen people and you survived.”
“He really did shoot me.”
“I believe you. And your aunt believed all the reports of your death for weeks. She was so relieved when you turned up at that party.”
“I can’t think about that night right now. I really can’t. It was the worst night of my life. Even worse than losing my father. Because the night my dad died, I was sorta expecting it. He was acting so weird leading up to that job. But the night Nick Tate decided that working for a drug lord in Honduras was better than spending his life with me… well, nothing prepares a lovestruck thirteen-year-old for that kind of rejection.”
“For someone who can’t think about it, you sure did explain a lot about you in a few sentences.”
He’s right. So I shut up.
We reach the car where a man is holding the back door open. Jax sets me down on the gray leather seat and waits for me to get settled before closing the door and walking to the other side. He exchanges a few words with our driver, who gets in the front, and then Jax joins me in the back, his arms wrapping around me protectively, the same way he was holding me outside. The opaque black glass slides up, secluding us from the eyes and ears of whoever it is at the wheel.
Pressure on the back of my head makes me gasp.
“It’s a pretty good gash, but the blood is clotting well. You shouldn’t need stitches.” He pulls a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and applies it to the wound.
“I still feel dizzy.”
“Come here,” he says, pulling me into his lap and repositioning me so my head is cradled in the crook of his arm. “Put your feet up on the seat and just rest. It’s a good hour drive to where we’re going.”
I could resist. He’s not entirely trustworthy. And he’s a stalker. That’s pretty creepy. I wonder how deep that obsession goes. I wonder if it’s safe to even be in this car with him.
But his embrace feels too good to make him stop.
My dress was not made for being cradled in a man’s arms. Or maybe it was? Because the slits up each side bare my thighs, and the heat of his hand on my skin stirs up the longing I’ve been pushing away for years, making me shut my eyes.
His fingers stroke me gently, back and forth across the top of my thigh. It feels so damn good, I lose myself in the pleasure. I lean into him and his hand drops down between my thighs, making me gasp.
“Sorry,” he says, removing the offending hand.
I reach out and place his hand back where it was. “Don’t stop touching me. Please. It feels good. I don’t get a lot of intimate interaction anymore.”
My eyes are still closed when I say this to him, but the ensuing silence and the tenseness of his hand on my skin—his hesitant touch—forces me to open them. It forces me to seek him out.
And I guess he wins, doesn’t he? He’s got me right where he needs me. Wanting more as I gaze up into his eyes.
“Pull your dress up, Sasha.”
I wasn’t expecting that command. But it absolutely is a command. He’ll give me what I’m asking for, but he won’t give it away for free.
“Do it,” he says. “You’ve been pushing me away all day. You’ve complained about my kisses and threatened to break my fingers. And now you’re here in my lap. Vulnerable and needy. So if this is what you really want, you need to participate. I won’t force you to succumb. I won’t take advantage of your longing for Nick, or your very bad day, or the panic that seems overwhelming. If you want me, show me.”
So I do. I do it without thinking or rationalizing. I just want it. My hand reaches for the silky fabric of my dress all bunched between my legs, and I pull it up. Inch by inch, until the coolness of the air sweeps across my lace panties.
He licks his lips as he watches.
The heat I feel is immediate.
“What should I do now?” I ask.
His hand slides up my inner thigh and the wetness gathers in a pool between my legs. “Open your legs.”
I swallow hard as the request sinks in. I want to obey. So badly. I want him to fix everything that is wrong with this day, erasing the shame of my failure at school and the haunting regrets I have from the past by fucking me in this car.
“I’m scared.”
“We can stop if you want.”
“No,” I whisper as my thighs inch open. More cool air sweeps in, passing over the wet spot of my panties. “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of giving in.”
“Then don’t give in. I’m not in a hurry. I mean”—and the familiar grin is back, along with the light in his eye—”since I found you at the airport last summer, I’ve been daydreaming about what it would be like to make you mine. But I don’t want to win you by default.”
“Can’t this be casual?”
“Casual. Hmmm.” He pauses for a moment to think about it. “This time, I guess. It can be. I want you too bad to say no. You’ve got me where you need me, don’t you?”
I let out a small breath of air. “I was just thinking that exact same thought about you.”
“So maybe we’re both right where we need to be?”
“I want to be loved and I know this isn’t love. You’re here, you’re handsome and polite. You know more about me than anyone outside my small circle of family and friends. And I’m dying, Jax. I’m dying of loneliness. I’m drowning in a sea of shattered dreams and wasted lust.”
He leans down and kisses me on the lips. It’s soft and tender. No tongue. Nothing harsh about it. It’s not a request or a command. It’s just… a kiss.
I kiss him back, but he withdraws. “Open your legs wider, Sasha.”
It’s my move. If I do as he asks, I’m giving him permission to break through the walls I’ve set up. But I want it so bad, there’s no chance of me saying no.
My legs inch open again. One foot drops to the floor of the car and my thigh rests on the leather bench seat. The other leg lifts higher, bending at the knee and pressing into his chest. His hand is warm as he slips it under my leg and strokes my inner thigh.
Touch me, I whisper to myself in my head. Touch me. I’m ready to beg him.
His hand dips lower into the v of my legs, as if he can hear the silent plea. His thumb presses against my wet panties, and then begins to stroke it in a circular motion.
More. That’s the only word on my mind. More.
His other hand finds my breast and gives it a hard squeeze. He tugs at the low neckline of the dress and my bra, and drags them down until my nipple is exposed.
Then he stops.
I open my eyes, seeking the reason behind the pause. “Please, Jax, don’t stop.”
“I want to watch you watch me,” he replies in a husky voice. “I want your eyes open, on mine, and every second I’m touching you, I want to see it.”
“See what?” I whisper.
“The longing. The desire. And when I make you come, the relief.”
No lover I’ve ever had was quite like this man here. There was no talking. No demands, no expectations beyond finishing.
But even though it was so much easier to have those kinds of relationships, it’s so much better to have this kind of sex.
“OK,” I agree.
The second the words are out of my mouth his hands are working. The one over my panties fists the fabric and pulls it aside, while the other hand slides down the length of my body, coming to a rest on the mound of my pussy.
His fingers begin a dance. Some desperate to get inside me, others deftly strumming my clit like an instrument. I hear the moans coming from my mouth, and then a sharp, “Open your eyes, Sasha,” that brings me back to reality.
But this cannot be reality. Nothing in my life has ever felt quite like this. I’m losing control and I don’t care.
His finger slips inside me, stretching me as it seeks to go deeper. And then another finger is there, doubling the sensations.
His other hand is busy caressing all the sensitive folds surrounding my clit. A pool of desire collects there, his fingertips sweeping through it, before withdrawing.
He removes his hand, but he’s got a grin on his face, like he’s got a surprise for me. So I stay silent.
“Open your mouth, Sasha.”
I part my lips and a second later his wet finger is inside, pressing on my tongue. It tastes like shattered dreams and wasted lust.
“Suck,” he says, slowly moving his finger in and out of my mouth. “Suck my finger and imagine it’s my cock as I fuck your pussy with my other hand.”
I wrap my lips around his moving finger. Between my legs he pushes inside me with more force. Everything is in and out, moving together like a dance of back and forth. Give and take.
My back arches over his knees, and then he repositions himself, sliding down a little to flatten his lap and give his growing cock more room. I can feel it pressing against my spine. I imagine how big he is, how he would fill me up.
“Open your eyes, Sasha.”
I didn’t realize I’d closed them. My desire is growing quickly, and pretty soon it will be impossible to keep them open, even if I concentrate. But I do as he asks and I’m rewarded with burning lust in his gaze.
“Come,” he says. “Come on my fingers so I can make you suck it off before I fuck you for real.”
His words make me breathless. No one has ever talked to me like that. No one has ever made time slow down or my heart speed up quite like this.
He pumps me harder. Both in my mouth and my pussy, making my back arch. I suck his finger as it slides across my tongue, wishing it was his cock. I picture myself on my knees, looking up into his eyes. His fingers entwined in my hair as he encourages me to take him deeper.
He curves his finger inside my pussy, finding my g-spot, and a few strokes later I’m writhing. The shudder of release forces me to close my eyes so I can enjoy it. And then he takes his finger out of my mouth, slips his arm behind my head, and brings my lips to his. His kiss is the last thing I expect, but the perfect ending to my climax.
“Sasha,” he moans, his words caressing my tongue, his breath mingling with my own panting. “Sit up.”
“I don’t want to,” I say. “I want to lie here in your arms a little longer.”
The hand still between my legs rips at the thin strings of my panties, breaking them and pulling them away from my still quivering body. “Sit up,” he commands. “And take my cock out of my pants.”
I open my eyes, understanding. He helps me sit up and I maneuver in the small space so I’m straddling his lap. I am too shy to meet his gaze. The reality of what we’re doing is replacing the heat of desire. So I concentrate on undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants. He’s wearing black boxer briefs, and he’s hard and big under the thin fabric. I can feel the heat coming off his cock.
I pull at the waistband, freeing him, and his full length springs forth.
“Pull your dress aside and ride me.”
I get up on my knees a little, positioning myself over the top of him, and then I grab his shoulders and ease down.
“Oh, God,” I moan. He is thick and rock hard.
“Look at me,” he says. “I want to see your face.”
I slowly raise my chin and find his gaze. His eyes are half closed. His mouth is open, and his breathing is rushed. Small moans escape his lips as I lift up and slowly lower myself over and over. He cups my face and stares into my soul.
“I’m not even done yet and the only thing on my mind is doing this again. I want to fuck you everywhere, Sasha Aston. Every. Where.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I lay my head on his shoulder and continue my movements. They are slow and the pace is steady. He doesn’t rush or force me to go faster. He doesn’t ask me for anything now. He just moves his hips with mine in a circular motion, rubbing himself against my clit. My only thoughts are of making him feel the same relief as I just did, and I’m surprised when my desire begins to build again.
“I’m going to come again,” I whisper into his neck.
“And again, and again, and again,” he whispers back as his hand finds its way under the silky fabric of my dress and he fingers my asshole.
The pressure is slight, not even close to entering, but I’ve never been touched here before, so the sensation is new and exciting.
Everything about Jax is new and exciting.
We come at the same time. We moan softly together as he shoots his semen inside me.
Rational thought invades my pleasure for a moment as I realize what we just did. “I’m on birth control,” I say though my heavy breathing. “And I haven’t had sex with anyone in years.”
He turns his head and kisses me, his tongue twisting together with mine for a few moments before he pulls back and says, “You’re safe with me, Sasha. Always know you’re safe with me.”
I savor his words as we rest in our post-coital embrace. It’s an unexpected relief to hear them, even though he might just be hinting that he has no STDs for me to worry about.
But I’m not worried about that. Jax strikes me as a cautious man. I’m thinking up hidden meanings in his declaration. Things like he will protect me from harm. He will be there to catch me if I fall. He will get me through this night in one piece. He will surround me when the past comes rushing back to slap me in the face.
When was the last time I felt safe?
I think about this for a few moments as he softly strokes my hair.
Never, I decide.
I can’t recall living a single moment free of fear.