Short Rides

Cam retreated from the car window. “Keely. Hon. Just chill out.”



“What?”



“The look on your face…”



“Is what?” she demanded.



He blurted, “Really freakin’ close to evil,” and took two steps back from the door so she couldn’t take a swing at him. “Remember. This has all been a misunderstanding. You’re safe. That’s all that matters. Why don’t I call Jack and tell him—”



“You’d be better off calling a fucking ambulance because I’m gonna kick his ass when I get home.”



Keely rolled up the window and sped off.



If her brother wanted to give her a speeding ticket, fine. But he could damn well do it in her driveway.



Jack paced on the front porch.



When he saw the lights of Keely’s car, he could finally breathe. He’d nearly gone bald the last four hours, pulling out his hair, desperately trying not to think of worst-case scenarios.



Cam had warned him Keely was mad—really mad, boiling mad, mad like he’d never seen her. But Jack wasn’t worried. Her pregnancy mood swings were so erratic she might be whistling a happy tune after she’d had time to think on the drive home about her inconsiderate behavior. She might even throw herself into his arms with a tearful apology.



He plastered on a smile, prepared to be magnanimous.



But the door to the Escalade was thrown open so hard the metal supports should’ve bent backward. Her boots hit the pavement before he could offer to help her out. Then she slammed the driver’s door with enough force the entire car shook.



But it was nothing compared to how hard Keely shook.



Shit. “Keely—”



“Not a fucking word, Jack-ass. I’m so pissed off at you right now you’d better be glad I actually came home.”



He took a step toward her and she growled. His wife actually fucking growled at him.



This was not good.



“Last warning to back off. I’ve had to pee since I left Spearfish and getting pulled over by my brother has just made it worse...and that’s your fault too.” She stomped up the stairs.



Undeterred, he followed her. “Do you have any idea—”



Keely whipped around so fast he didn’t have time to duck the blow from her purse. A purse she was now swinging around like a mace. He was so shocked at the vicious expression on her face that he didn’t manage to dodge the second or third blow.



“Jesus, Keely. Will you knock it off?”



The next time she swung, he grabbed the strap and tugged the pink zebra cowhide bludgeoning tool from her fingers.



“Fine, have it,” she yelled. “It wasn’t doin’ enough damage to you to suit me anyway.” She stepped back and braced her hand against the house.



“Come on, Keely. Can we please talk about this?”



“No.”



Count to ten. “I’m serious.”



“So am I.” She jammed her heel into the bootjack and removed her right boot.



“Can you please try and be reasonable?”



“Reasonable?” she repeated. “You wanna talk about bein’ reasonable? You’re the one who told me to buzz off and leave you alone to work.”



“You took that out of context.”



“Bullshit.” Keely removed her other boot. “You said you wouldn’t be home until midnight and I should find something to do to entertain myself.”



Had he really said that?



“So are you all fired up because I wasn’t standing on the porch holding your pipe and slippers to welcome you home?”



“Like that’d ever happen.”



Keely growled at him again.



“Maybe I did mention I might be working late. But that doesn’t change the fact that I couldn’t get ahold of you when my workday ended.”



“Since when am I at your beck and call, Jack Donohue?”



Where the hell had that come from?“You have to admit it’s pretty irresponsible for you—a pregnant woman in a rural area—to forget your phone. What if you’d had car trouble?” he demanded.



“Then my brother, who was scouring the county for me, could’ve given me a ride home since you called the fucking sheriff’s office like I was a runaway wife. I absolutely cannot believe you’d—”



“Keely. Calm down.”



“Calm down?” She reached for her boot. “The fuck I will!”



The first one missed him, but the second boot hit him square in the shin. “Goddammit, that’s enough!”



“No it’s not! You have no idea how furious I am right now.” Keely picked up a potted plant and started toward him. “You humiliated me in front of my whole family, Jack. And no doubt you’ll blame this, like you blame everything else, on my out-of-control pregnancy hormones!”



“Trust me, buttercup, this psycho redneck behavior is one hundred percent you, and has nothing to do with the baby—” was all he got out before she hurled the flower pot at his head. “I cannot fucking believe you just did that.”



“Then you’d better not come into the kitchen because knives are a lot harder to duck, asswipe.” Keely stormed into the house. She slammed the door and he heard the snick of the lock as she locked him out.



Locked out. Of his own goddamned house.



Jack yelled, “Real mature, Keely.”



Yeah, real mature yelling at your pregnant wife.



He slumped into the closest chair.



How had this escalated to this point?



You overreacted.



Okay, maybe the call to Cam had been unnecessary. But Keely didn’t really believe that he’d called her family to find out where she was as some attempt at humiliation? He’d never do that to her. Jack knew how hard she’d struggled not to be seen as the baby who needed constant supervision and protection. But he’d been frantic because it was so unlike her to be incommunicado for that long. Wanting to know where she was wasn’t a control thing. He missed her, and yeah, he’d felt guilty for snapping at her and blowing her off. He’d initially called her to tell her he’d finished work early because he wanted to spend time with her. But it’d turned into full-blown panic at hour three.



All he could do now was give her time to calm down. After being married for almost four years he ought to know a way to fix this.



Grovel.



Like hell. He ought to spank her.



Jack swept up the dirt and broken pot. He dug in her purse for her house keys and ended up finding her cell phone—her completely dead cell phone.



At least she’d had the phone with her.



Like that would matter now.



After he’d let himself inside, he wandered into the kitchen. He washed his hands and face, and eyed the butcher block for missing knives.



Then he wandered through the rest of the main level. Keely wasn’t in the bathroom, den, living room, dining room or out on the back deck. He scaled the stairs to the second floor. Not in the nursery. Or the other three bedrooms.



The door at the end of the hallway, which led to their bedroom suite, was shut.



Probably locked.



Too bad. He’d kick the damn door in if he had to.



But it wasn’t locked.



Jack stepped inside the moonlit room and froze when he saw Keely standing by the big bay window.



She wore a nearly see-through white cotton nightgown that made her look like a goddess in the moon’s silvery glow. The way her dark hair trailed down her back, the swell of her abdomen and the heavier weight of her breasts only added fuel to the fire of lust burning inside him.



That’s when he knew what she needed—what they both needed.



He moved in front of her and trapped her gorgeous face in his hands, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Then his mouth crashed down on hers and he kissed her with every ounce of passion and hunger she aroused in him just by existing.



Keely didn’t deny his kiss or fight him, except to grab his shirt to pull him closer. They kissed crazily; mouths avid, bodies straining.



Jack herded her toward the bed. He broke the kiss, sliding his mouth to her ear. “Keely. I love you. So goddamned much. And I need you. Now. Like this.”



“Yes. God, please.”



He lifted the nightgown over her head. He filled his hands with her breasts and teased her neck with open-mouthed kisses and tiny sucking bites.



She arched into him and moaned.



“Sit,” he ordered and inserted himself between her thighs. His hands followed the contour of her belly, amazed at how her body grew and changed every day. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “Every inch of you.”



“Jack, I—”



He took her mouth again.



But sneaky Keely wrested control, her sensual kisses destroying him while she unbuttoned his shirt. Her hands raced over his torso, her fingers digging into his flesh. Then her mouth was on his chest, her tongue flicking his nipples between soft, suctioning kisses.



His blood pounded so hard even his skin throbbed. Her every lick and nibble made him hiss.



Jack grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged her head back. “Behave. My way. Or no way. Understand?”



“Bossy.”



He cupped the outer swell of her stomach and started a trail of kisses from her sternum, straight down her belly. Rubbing his razor-stubbled cheek across the roundness until she squirmed. “You are so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Before she responded, he smooched her belly button and kissed his way down the lower curve of her abdomen, dropping to his knees. He spread her knees wide and jammed his tongue deep into her cunt, filling his mouth, his senses with her essence.



“Jack!”



He lapped at the sweet stickiness, swirling his tongue through her soft tissues. Giving her no respite as he drove her higher and harder with each suck and flicker of his tongue. “Come for me fast, cowgirl. So I can fuck you.”



“Then leave your mouth right there,” she panted.



Jack tongued her clit relentlessly. When her thighs went rigid, he fastened his mouth to the swollen nub and sucked with enough force his teeth pressed into her quivering flesh.