She worked her lip between her teeth and knelt on the bed, setting her palms to his legs, which were now covered in gray sweats that did nothing to hide his erection. “Good.” Her eyes fell to his crotch, and she licked her pink lips.
“Everything will be okay,” she said like a promise he hoped he could believe.
He sat up and held on to her hips, forgetting whatever pain remained in his abdomen.
As she took hold of the hem of his shirt, he lifted his arms to assist her in ridding him of his white tee. “I want you,” she whispered. “Need you. But I don’t want you getting hurt. Sex . . . will have you contracting your abs, right?” Her shoulders fell, and she gave him that sexy little pout he loved. “And an orgasm would too, I suppose.”
“Baby girl, you’re sitting here naked on my bed. There’s not a chance in this life or the next that I’d give a damn about some abdominal discomfort.” His eyes fell to her tits, and he smoothed the pads of his thumbs over her hard nipples before swallowing her whimper with his mouth. And as he kissed her, their family problems became a distant memory.
His beautiful woman managed to rid him of his pants and boxer briefs within the next few seconds, and she was back on her knees, shifting his legs apart as if preparing to . . .
Well, fuuuuuck. He threw his head back when her warm, wet mouth sank down onto his cock, and her hand worked up and down his length in a perfect rhythm . . . so much better than he’d ever fantasized.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he looked down, intoxicated by the sight of her full lips wrapped around his length as she took all of him. The pain in his stomach was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure tearing through his body right now.
“Mmmm.”
“That mmmm might be the death of me, darling,” he rasped, fighting his release. “Don’t forget my rule. You first. Always.” He gently guided her head away, which was damn near painful to do, especially when she licked her lips and swiped her hand beneath her bottom one, eyes pinned on him.
“Can’t we forgo that rule this one time?” she asked, her voice deep and sultry.
“No, now be a good girl and get on your back.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, which had his balls tightening as they swapped positions.
Unfortunately, he probably needed to wait a day or two before they had sex, but no way was he waiting to taste her again.
Staring at him with wide eyes, she traced her fingers gently over the bandage wrapped around his abdomen, but she didn’t seem to surrender to the worry. Too caught up in the desire, same as him. That’s my girl.
He carefully lowered himself down her body, dragging his mouth over her warm skin in the process before his tongue settled between her thighs.
“Ohhh,” she cried the moment he flicked her clit, knowing the exact spot she loved, and he crooked two fingers deep inside her wet pussy, before removing them to glide over her puckered flesh before setting his mouth between her thighs again.
“Damn, girl, you’re wet.”
“Going down on you turned me on . . . quite . . . a lot,” she said around a few breathy moans as he ate her up. She orgasmed a few minutes later, her nails biting into his shoulders as she murmured, “I love you.” And those three words nearly had him coming as well. “But now,” she drawled, “it’s my turn to get you off.”
Jesse sipped his coffee the next morning while staring at the unfinished table inside his workshop. His shoulders fell at the sight of the hole in the wall he needed to plaster, and he thought back to the day he’d caused the damage. It felt like forever ago, rather than last week.
Thatcher had texted him at around zero five hundred hours that morning, letting him know he was back at Langley with a promise “never to hear from me again unless it was really important,” followed by an apology text.
The man had knowingly and purposefully placed Ella in danger, so the odds of Jesse forgiving Thatcher were about the same as him forgiving his dad. Slim to none. His therapist had once told him, “You don’t always need to forgive someone in order to move on, you just need to forgive yourself for whatever feelings or behaviors they may have inspired.” And maybe she was right.
Jesse set his coffee down and turned on the radio, debating whether to sand the tabletop or patch up the wall as a way to distract himself and keep from overthinking the Beckett situation.
Ella was still asleep, and he’d done his best not to wake her when he’d left bed following Thatcher’s text two hours ago.
“Hey.”
Jesse’s shoulders startled at the fact A.J. had just gotten the drop on him. Fatigue? Stress? Then again, A.J. was a skilled operator, but he hadn’t even heard his truck tires crunch over the gravel on approach. “It’s early. What are you doing here?” He turned to face his best friend, hoping they were still best friends.
“Ella called me. About thirty minutes ago. She said you were out here.”
Ah, my sneaky woman. Trying to patch things up between us?
A.J. strode past Jesse and over to the tabletop still attached to the workbench. “We didn’t get a chance to talk at the ranch yesterday.” A.J. ran his hand along the top, his eyes remaining on the wood. “And don’t be mad at my sister, but she may have mentioned there’s a reason there was tension between you and your old man.”
Jesse removed his hat and scratched the back of his head before putting it back on, wondering how much Ella had told him.
“You should tell Rory. And your mom.” A.J. lifted his gaze to him. “You should’ve told me a long-ass time ago too.”
Jesse’s stomach knotted, and why the hell was he feeling emotional right now?
“I would’ve helped you. We could’ve done something about him.”
So, you know everything-everything. He’d told Ella back in France she was free to share what she’d learned with Savanna, and anyone for that matter, but this conversation still wasn’t one he quite knew how to navigate.
They were both operators. Men who took lives to save others. Feelings weren’t always the easiest thing to discuss. Operational plans? Roger that. But talk about how your dad beat the shit out of you? That’d be a negative.
“The reclaimed wood,” A.J. went on, his hand now gliding across the smooth surface again as if searching for rough spots. “You always chose reclaimed wood because you wanted to save the wood, wishing you could . . .”
Save myself? Fix myself? Make something whole again. Useful. All Jesse could do was nod, because his emotions had his throat tightening.
A.J. lifted a hand and stroked his beard. “You’re my best friend, brother. Always will be. I just wish I could have helped.”
“Still best friends, huh?” That was all Jesse could latch on to right about now.
“Of course.” A.J. smiled, and he could tell his Tier One best friend was fighting tears. “And, um, Mom wants you over for supper tomorrow. Beckett will be there. Mom will make things right. You know how stubborn she is. As stubborn as my sister.”
Jesse tipped his face to the ceiling, closing his eyes. Fighting his tears.
“But there’s still one problem to address.”
A.J.’s words had Jesse opening his eyes, pivoting his focus back to his best friend. “And what’s that?” Aside from Beckett?