Heart of the Hunter (46 page)

“I know what happened, Faith. I know I can’t erase that. But if you don’t get back into my lap soon, I swear I’m going to burst.”

Chapter 31

Jackson

W
HAT THE HELL WAS I DOING?
I mean, this wasn’t the way I operated. I know how to deal with women. At least, I used to know. It had been so long since I’d gotten my dick wet it was like I’d lost my touch.

I’d been back in the Socorro Valley a week.

A week!

And I was still pussyfooting around Faith like a boy too scared to ask her to the prom.

Faith didn’t need a guy to show her manners. She’d been waiting for me for twelve years. She needed me to fuck her so hard she had to beg me to stop. She needed an orgasm in her pussy. An orgasm in her mouth. An orgasm in her ass. She needed my jizz flowing out of every hole.

I don’t mean to be crass. I loved this woman and I’d have taken a bullet to see her happy. But shit. I had to get my act together.

Women are the most complicated creatures on God’s green earth, but they’re simple too. You charm them. You challenge them. You flatter them. And then you fuck them. And then you fuck them again. And a third time. And they love you for it. They thank you for it. They beg you for more and then they beg you to stop. They know exactly what they want and if you can’t give it to them, you’re not really a man. At least in my book.

That’s the way it’s always been, since the beginning of time.

So why did this feel different?

Why was Faith making my dick pound with desire, while at the same time terrifying me?

I’ll tell you why. Love. Love was the complicating factor.

I looked into Faith’s eyes. God, she was pretty.

I took her by the hand and led her across the bar.

“Jackson,” she gasped. “Where are you taking me?”

“Have fun, you two,” Grant said, as we left.

Lacey was laughing.

“I’m taking you where I should have taken you a long time ago, Faith.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If I hadn’t gotten mixed up with Los Lobos, this is the place I’d have taken you twelve years ago.”

“If it wasn’t for Los Lobos, we’d never have met at all,” she said.

I looked at her and smiled. She was being kind. She was letting me know that she wasn’t holding what had happened against me. Was she really forgiving me?

Outside, the air was refreshing. It was a relief to get out of the bar. In the moonlight, Faith looked even more attractive. All I wanted was a chance to talk to her alone.

I led her to the pickup truck and opened the passenger door for her.

“Where are you taking me?” she said.

“You’ll see.”

She climbed up into her seat and I hurried around and got in next to her. I took the truck out onto the road and down into the valley, past the spot where she’d almost killed me a week earlier.

“I can’t believe you said nothing when you were in my car,” she said.

I looked across at her. Fuck, she was beautiful. She was an angel.
My angel
.

“The time wasn’t right,” I said.

She smiled and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “This feels better.”

We were driving away from the town, down toward the bottom of the valley, where the peaks of the mountains rose sharply up from the river. We passed the Brotherhood mansion and Faith looked down the driveway toward it.

“Grant took me there after you left,” she said.

“I know. Did you like it there?”

“Yes, I did. And I’ve liked knowing the Brotherhood was there for me if I needed them. Lacey and the brothers helped me get established. Lacey’s still my best friend.”

I nodded.

“I thought you were taking me there now,” she said. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

We drove on a couple more miles and then I pulled down the driveway of my father’s vineyard.

“Where is this place?” she said.

“My father’s old place.”

“Oh.”

I pulled up outside the house and killed the engine. I looked at Faith. There were tears in her eyes when she looked back at me.

“I’ve never been here,” she said.

“Well, you’re here with me, now.”

“I’m glad to be.”

“This is where I grew up.”

“And what are you going to do with me here?” she said, a sparkle in her eye.

“Come on,” I said.

I got out of the truck and helped her out of her side.

“Are we going into the house?”

“Not yet. I’m still working on the house. I don’t want you to see it until it’s ready.”

“Ready for what?”

I didn’t answer.

“What did you think of that wine?” I said.

“I liked it. I really did. And I know wine. I think I could find some restaurants in the city that would be interested.”

I opened the tailgate and hopped up onto the back of the truck.

“You want to see what else we’ve got?” I said. “There’s a case here with Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Syrah, Grenache.”

“You had me at Merlot,” she said, laughing.

I reached down to her and she seemed to hesitate for just a second before giving me her hand and letting me pull her up into the back of the truck.

“Would it be out of line if I were to pay you a complement?” I said.

She laughed but she was listening. “That depends.”

I could tell she was blushing. She was probably glad it was dark.

“On what?”

“On whether or not you mean it.”

I couldn’t lie to her. I could never lie to her. She was a part of my soul.

“You are an angel, Faith. You are an absolute angel.”

She looked away.

We sat at the back of the truck, our backs against the cab. I’d brought our wineglasses from the bar and set them in front of us.

“What do you want to try first?” I said.

“You choose?”

I looked at her for a second. It was a surreal moment. The moon was shining above us. We were outside the house I’d grown up in. We had a child together, and yet it was as if we were two strangers. We were soulmates who’d been forced apart for over a decade. It reminded me of those stories of twins separated at birth. Somehow, they maintain a deep connection, despite the fact they’ve been kept apart their whole lives. There was heat in the air but it wasn’t oppressive. Crickets were chirping for twenty miles in every direction and they created a comforting din, like the sound of the ocean.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she said.

“You’re beautiful, Faith.”

Her lips were like the blush on a ripe cherry. Her eyes looked into mine and the connection between us was like that between two people who’d known each other their entire lives. We weren’t strangers. We were lovers. We always had been, and we always would be. At that moment, the only thing that existed in the entire universe was her.

Nothing mattered, except that we were both there, under the stars, drinking wine and looking into each other’s eyes.

I opened a bottle of Merlot and poured two glasses.

She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip.

“What do you think?” I said.

“What do I think?” she repeated thoughtfully. “Jackson, what are we doing out here? What are you going to do to me?”

Chapter 32

Faith

I
DRANK THE WINE.
I needed it. Nothing like this had happened to me in a very long time.

I’d once been the wild girl, the girl that hooked up with the bad boys, but for the last twelve years I’d been a wallflower. No guy so much as looked at me. They could tell I wasn’t interested. It was like Jackson had marked me somehow, and other men could sense it. I’d gone from being the wildest thing at the party to being a complete wallflower. I was the designated driver, the one who went home early. Something told me tonight was going to be different. I’d finally be the Faith I’d been a long time ago. I’d be the girl that got the guy.

For the second time in my life, I was getting picked up by Jackson Jones, and it was a thrill.

As I sat there with him in the back of the truck, his muscular body right next to me, the thoughts of what he was going to do to me became increasingly vivid.

I was scared, but there was no way in hell I wasn’t going through with this. We’d committed to each other a long time ago. This was just an inevitable part of the journey. A very long time ago, Jackson had told me there would be no going back. I’d believed that. And I would hold him to his word.

I decided to let go of my inhibitions. Whatever was going to happen, and I could feel that
something
was definitely going to happen, I would embrace it.

I’d already put in the time. I’d waited long enough. I remembered Jackson as a wild passionate lover, and I was ready to submit to his powerful body. Whatever he wanted from me, I would give him.

He opened another bottle of wine, I didn’t even notice which one.

“You want me to try and find buyers for this wine in the city?” I said.

Jackson shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s been Grant’s department up until now. I don’t want to make plans without speaking to him.”

“Well speak to him. Lacey and I could create quite a stir with this.”

I took another sip.

We sat there, drinking the wine, looking up at the stars, and then it came. Exactly what I knew was coming. What I’d been praying would come. You don’t get into the back of a truck with a man like Jackson Jones and not expect something to happen.

His hand was on my thigh.

His strong, masculine hand, was on my smooth, succulent thigh.

My mind flashed back twelve years, to the first time he touched me at the motel. I shuddered with desire.

I was wearing a short, black dress. I’d always been proud of my legs. They were my best feature. I was glad he started on them. I was terrified of letting him down. A lot had changed with my body in twelve years. I’d given birth to a child. I wasn’t the twenty-year-old he remembered.

I looked at him.

It was strange. There was something intense and real about the look in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought maybe it was love.

Love.

Where did we stand on that question? I didn’t know.

I loved him. I loved him with all my heart and I had ever since he’d given me his son, but did he love me? He said he’d been loyal to me for all the years we were apart. Did that mean we were in love? I hoped it did.

Stop thinking,
I told myself. Just enjoy this for what it is and stop trying to read anything into it. I couldn’t control what the future held, and I wouldn’t try. If Jackson loved me, if he loved Sam, he would show us. We wouldn’t have to guess.

For now, all I had to focus on was Jackson’s finger, toying with the lace of my panty. His hand was inside my dress, pulling at the elastic of my thong. He was touching my sensitive skin, sending shivers of anticipation through me.

“Jackson,” I said.

“Faith,” he said.

“What are we doing?”

“Whatever we want,” he said and leaned in close and pressed his lips against mine.

It was incredible. More intense than the one outside the bar. Have you ever waited twelve years for a kiss? His tongue was all over mine, dancing with it, entangling itself in the most delicious way imaginable.

“Divine,” he said when our lips broke contact.

“Mm-hmm,” I moaned. I wanted more. I wanted more of that kiss and I didn’t care what I had to give to get it.

He leaned in and kissed me again, this time on my neck, allowing his tongue to slide down toward my breasts. It made my blood shiver. I leaned back in the truck and opened my legs a little. What was I doing? Trying to signal to him to come in and take me? God, was he going to think I was desperate?

He lay me down flat and leaned over me.

“Good lord, you’re a beautiful woman,” he said. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Not lately.”

He smiled.

“In fact,” I said, “the last man to tell me that, was you.”

“Well, I was right,” he said.

He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it away. Those muscles. Those tattoos. That perfectly chiseled chest. It wasn’t exactly the same as I remembered—it was hotter. And I wouldn’t have even believed that was possible. He had more scars, more wounds, more tattoos, and I knew every one of those marks on his body had a story behind it. Each held a meaning.

The memories of his body came flooding back to me. They were the treasures I’d stored away twelve years ago. I’d kept them in a safe place where only I knew about them. They were mine. And now they’d come to life again.

He was like something from a movie poster, built like a model. His muscles were perfect. He had ripples and bumps and grooves everywhere they were supposed to be. He had a perfect six pack, large, hard pectorals, arms like tree trunks. He was like a marble statue.

I smiled at him while he reached under my dress and clenched my thighs. Holy hell. His hands slid under me and grabbed my bare buttocks. It sent a shiver of passion through me like an electric pulse. I wanted him to take me, to possess me in the deepest way imaginable, to own me, to destroy me. I was his.

I’d always been his.

When he lifted my dress and peered underneath, I gasped. I was thrilled and terrified at the same time. I wanted him, but I was scared he wouldn’t want me back. What if he didn’t like what he saw?

“What have we got under here?” he said, teasingly.

I giggled like a girl. I’m not exaggerating. On an ordinary day, I could count myself as a normal, mature, adult woman. But with Jackson I felt like a teenager all over again. I felt like I was about to lose my virginity all over again. I wanted to shut my legs as tight as I could, stop him from exploring me, but I couldn’t. Something deeper within me allowed him to do what he wanted.

I held my breath and waited.

He put his head under my dress. A moment later I felt his hot breath against the skin of my inner thighs.

“What are you going to do to me, Jackson Jones?” I whispered.

I didn’t even know if he heard me. He pulled my underwear down to my ankles and then off completely. My shoes fell off in the process. Then he leaned down and let his tongue touch the soft skin of my clitoris.