Conquer Your Love (27 page)

 
“Do you think whoever chased
us
knew
this book existed and they were afraid we’d
make it public?” I asked. I was drawing at straws but I couldn’t help myself.
“If we hand it to them, then maybe we won’t have to worry about our safety and
we can keep the estate.” I regarded Jett intently, waiting for him to admit I
had just discovered the solution to our problems.

Sort of.

“Baby, you think too much. There’s no point in stipulating possible
theories with absolutely nothing to back them off.” His voice didn’t leave much
room for discussion. “I don’t think your way is the way they’re working.
They’re not as—” he smiled, struggling to find the right word “—
peaceful
.”

That made sense. He used to be in a gang, so he might know a thing or
two about how things worked. I figured gangs weren’t really that different from
elite clubs and sects. They’re all made of a closed circle. No one’s let in
easily, and definitely not out with a mere handshake.

As if sensing my thoughts, Jett shot me an amused look. “Let’s have
dinner. I don’t want you to lose an inch from those stunning hips.”

Following Jett into
the kitchen, I felt a hint of
disappointment that he was bottling up again. I wanted to talk about our
findings and possible theories, but he was more than eager to make us dinner. I
leaned against the kitchen counter and watched him unpack the contents of his
box, looking as hot as ever—clad in nothing but his jeans. His feet were
bare and the muscles of his back seemed to flex with every move. I ignored my
brain’s silent invitation to run my fingertips down his spine and watch him
shiver with pleasure, his beautiful tan skin turning into goose bumps under my
touch.

“
Wanna
help me?” Jett asked. I realized the
amused glint had not disappeared from his eyes.

Me and cooking?

I laughed. “Yeah, if you don’t mind going to bed hungry. You know I
can’t cook.”

“That’s why we’re doing it together.” He retrieved a chopping board and
placed it in front of him. “We’ll start off with something quick and easy. I
thought we could make Spaghetti Bolognese.”

Given that we were in Italy, how fitting.

I wanted to point out that no Italian recipe was ‘quick and easy’ to me
unless it came out of the microwave oven, and judging from all the things he
brought, he had every intention to start from scratch. At least he wasn’t
expecting we make our own pasta. I grabbed the unopened pack of spaghetti
noodles and turned it around to read the instructions.

“You watch the beef while I cut the onions. Deal?” Jett offered. He
grabbed a knife from the knife rack and began to peel off an onion.

“Deal.”

I had always been rather slow at chopping anything and I’d rather not
have my eyes watering and my mascara running, so I placed the minced beef into
a frying pan, added a few drops of oil and turned on the heat—the way I
had seen it on TV. It was my first attempt at cooking something as complicated
as meat. I had watched my fair share of cooking shows. They always made cooking
look easy and I blamed them for my fear. But, really, how hard could it be?

Half a minute later, the minced beef began to sizzle unnaturally loud
and the first trickles of sweat rolled down my spine, which I could attribute
to anything from my fear of cooking, the heat of the stove, or Jett’s presence.
From the corner of my eyes, I admired his abs, so strong and well defined, and
the tattoo covering his arm. I knew I had to stop staring before he noticed,
but I couldn’t help myself. He looked so sexy, peeling the tomatoes and grating
carrots and chopping up herbs, my mind kept conjuring naughty ideas of me
stripping him off his jeans and having sex while our dinner boiled to
perfection.

Jett shot me an amused look, sending a wave of heat through my cheeks
and lower abdomen. “Something smells burned.”

I blinked my brain back into action.

Oh, crap!

I forgot about the meat.

“Sorry.” My skin prickled from the way his eyes seemed to caress me from
a distance. I flipped the meat over and breathed out relieved. It had turned a
dark brown color but it was definitely not burned.

Jett moved behind me, his hands brushing mine as he helped me stir,
then
added the onions. His hot breath tickled my
back,
making me all too aware just how close he stood.

“Want me to remove the pan from the stove?” I asked, unable to control
the hoarse undertone of my voice.

“No, the beef’s not done for another few minutes.”

It looked pretty done to me.

“You never told me where you learned to cook,” I said.

I felt him stiffen behind me, hesitating. “After my father kicked me out
and he cut off my allowance, I took a job in a restaurant kitchen. I was either
that or get involved in the drugs crap everyone seemed to fall into.”

“You worked in a kitchen at sixteen? Is that even allowed?”

“I looked older and lied about my age. I needed the money.” He spun me
around until his eyes met mine. “My family was rich, Brooke, but everything I
own I earned myself through hard work and loving what I do.”

“I can’t get over the fact that your father threw you out. If you hadn’t
been the strong person you are, staying off drugs, we might not be having this
conversation. How could you forgive him and help him after all he’s done to
you?”

“I’d be lying if I told you I’ve forgiven him.” He shrugged, as if it
didn’t matter. But it did. I could see it in the hurt glint in his eyes and the
hard lines around his mouth. “I hated him for a long time, but he’s still my
father, Brooke. If it
wasn’t
for the shitty stuff he
did to me, I wouldn’t be who I am now. The trials of our lives make us strong,
determined to succeed, to be different, both in body and spirit.”

He took the spoon from my hand and stirred one more time, then added the
peeled tomatoes, chopped carrots, and grated cheese to the mix.

 
The air was charged with tension.
I could feel his struggle to remain calm in the midst of the hurricane raging
inside him, and I asked myself how much stronger that hurricane must have been
when he was younger. A part of me wondered how many people knew the story of
his life and upbringing—his true side, not the one he showed to his
prospective business partners and the journalists writing about him in their
stories.

He was beginning to trust me. Another first. Another step that proved to
me he was serious about us. Affection’s easy to gain, but trust is hard to get
and yet so easy to crush and lose.

Jett took a deep breath, his eyes turning cold again. “You can forget
what people said and did, but you never forget how they made you feel. You can
forgive the people who hurt you, but you will remember what they taught you.”
His gaze searched mine, waiting for warmth and understanding, which I was more
than eager to give him.

 
“He’s not a bad man, Brooke.
He was a strict father, and he threw me out because he believed in discipline,
whereas my mother—she only thought of herself when she left us. She
didn’t stay in contact. She loved her drugs more than us, which was so much
worse than anything my father ever did. At least he
cared
enough to stay
.
He
helped me out of the hole I buried for myself. I can forgive him, because he
did what he had to do but I’ll never forget how he made me feel.”

His eyes glazed over, his mind recalling memories I couldn’t reach. I
brushed his back gently and his attention returned to me. “Can I forgive my
father for seeking the perversions of whatever Alessandro’s club occasioned?
Possibly. Will I forget the kind of man Robert is? Probably not.”

He added the pasta to the boiling water, avoiding my gaze but I caught
the glint of anger shimmering in his eyes nonetheless. It wasn’t aimed at me;
it was at his family—the people who should’ve loved him unconditionally,
yet betrayed him when he needed them the most. In that instant I understood why
he thought his father deserved a chance. Robert had been there for him once, or
at least more than Jett’s mother, so Jett felt a sense of obligation toward the
old man.

I imagined myself having Robert Mayfield as my father.
Stern, hard, unrelenting, maybe even merciless.
Having
someone like him in my family, having to accept him just because he was my
father, the only parent I had after the other one left. It wasn’t a beautiful
picture.

As if sensing the dark direction of my thoughts, Jett smiled at me
weakly and the warmth in his eyes returned, enveloping me like a safe bubble.

“I’d do anything to avoid being like them,” he said softly.

I kissed the palm of his hand, wishing I could make him forget or at
least ease the burden of his memories weighing down his soul. Returning his
smile, I let my fingers glide up and down his sculpted arms. I wanted to help
him forget, if only for a few minutes, and the only way I knew how to do that
was to give him my passion. Gazing up at him, I trailed my hand from his nipple
to his abdomen. The top button of his jeans was undone and I could make out the
happy trail of dark hair that always enticed me.

“Are you horny?” His piercing eyes turned a darker shade of green. I
could see his instant desire in the way his jeans tightened around his groin
and the way he watched me.

“A bit.” I bit my lip. “And you?

“I’m always horny when you’re around.” He laughed, his voice hoarse and
erotic, filled with a silent invitation. “You’re sexy. You set everything on
fire, and you know I can’t keep my hands off you when you’re looking at me like
this.
”

He tugged at the belt of my bathrobe, opening it slowly. My blood rushed
harder and my breath came faster. Towering over me, he looked at me with his
sexy bedroom eyes, the kind of eyes that said everything along the lines:
I want you. I need you. And if you don’t give
me what I crave, I’ll take it. And you’ll like it. You’ll love it. You’ll want
more.

And I did. I wanted him. I wanted him so bad that I buried my hands in
his hair, and I pressed my body against him, my desire burning through me like
hot lava, burning my mind, burning through every barrier that held me back. His
fingers caught hold of my hips, pulling me against him, and his mouth descended
upon mine so hard, heat pooled between my legs.

“I fucking want you. I want you so hard.” His fingers trailed down my
thighs and then up again, his scorching touch sending my pulse into
a frenzy
. “I want you so much, I don’t want you to be with
anyone but me.”

His hot lips moved to the corner of my mouth while his thumb stroked my
cheek, the other hand caressing the sensitive spot between my legs. A soft moan
escaped my mouth as he started to kiss my shoulders. His teeth grazed my skin.
I imagined them on my nipples and on the inside of my thighs.

An unpleasant smell reached my nostrils.

“It’s burning.”

Our dinner was burning. Pushing Jett away, I reached out to remove the
pan from the hotplate but he beat me to it.

“That’s not the only thing burning here.” His sexy smile made me melt
like chocolate under his double meaning forbidden promise. “It’s crazy how much
you turn me on.”

He switched off the stove, his fingers moving so fast I couldn’t follow.
One second I watched him brush aside the clutter covering the oversized kitchen
counter, and the next second both of his hands cupped my ass and lifted me onto
the counter. My bathrobe barely covered my naked body as he started to kiss my
shoulders and my nipples, the bulge in his slacks rubbing hard and deliciously
against my sex starved entrance.

“Jett,” I whispered. “Is it really a good idea to do it here?”

“What’s wrong with it? We’ve never done it in the kitchen. It’s only a
matter of time until we do so we might as well do it right here, right now.”

“Good point.”

How could I argue with that?

The tip of his tongue moistened his lower lip, leaving a glistering
trail of moisture behind. My fingers clawed at his back, pulling him against
me. His thumb started to rub my clitoris until I felt my juices slowly
gathering between my legs, and then ever so slowly, he dipped his finger inside
me, the rotating motion making me moan.

“You’re turning me on,” I whispered against his shoulder.

His finger moved faster, matching the pace of his thumb, as he thrust it
in and out. I raised my hips and wrapped my thighs around his waist. My stomach
quivered. My whole body trembled for him as his thumb continued to stimulate my
clit.

“I want you inside me.”

“Not yet,” Jett whispered. “You’re so wet. Do you hear that?” He laughed
quietly into my neck as he slid a second finger into me. My sex clenched around
him, welcoming him with a squishing hum. “That’s the sound of love, baby.
That’s how I know I turn you on.”

Holy mother of pearls!