Loving Lies (13 page)

Chapter Twelve

 

“Get out,” Jessie screamed as she threw Slade's shoes at him while he cinched his belt, watching her with lazy satisfaction. “And don't bother coming back. The next time you show up here I'll call the police.”

He grabbed the other shoe a second before it connected with his head. He sat down on the bed, untying them and pushing his socked feet unhurriedly into the sneakers.

“You act like I raped you,” he grunted. “You were the one tearing at my jeans…”

“Shut up.” She had discarded the shirt and sweats, pulling on a robe and belting it tightly around her waist instead. “Just shut up and get out.”

“Are you on the pill?”

“None of your damned business. Get out.”

“It would have been if I came inside you like I wanted to,” he growled. “Watch out, baby, or you might get caught more effectively than you want.”

“Women have been having babies for years without the moron fathers tagging along,” she informed him, her voice furious.

“Not mine.” His head snapped up, his gaze suddenly sharp, fierce. “Never a kid of mine, Jessie, and you know it. Not if I can help it.”

He had been abandoned as a child, raised in one foster home after another until he escaped and headed to college. He had always sworn he would never leave a kid of his to suffer as he had.

Jessie shook her head, weary to her very soul as she faced him.

“You should carry condoms, stud. The way you fuck around, you'd think they would be second nature,” she snapped.

He didn't say a word. He laced his shoes then rose from the bed, towering over her as she backed away from him.

“If you're not on birth control then get on it,” he growled. “Condoms break, Jessie.”

Well, that put her in her place.

“Yeah, you wouldn't want your little river slut getting knocked up,” she sneered furiously.

“Enough.” He gripped her arms, a quick little shake leaving her to stare up at him in shock. “Never call yourself something so vile again or I'll paddle your ass until you can't sit down for a week. I never thought of you that way.”

“Then you should have.” She jerked away from him, moving out of the bedroom and heading to the kitchen. “You've had your morning fun, now you can get the hell out.”

She fought the trembling of her hands, but nothing could erase the lazy satisfaction in her body. Slade had taken her not just once, but twice. Taking her until she couldn't move, couldn't even cry out, she could only come, over and over again, washing his hard cock with her release each time he demanded it.

She was pathetic. As though he hadn't already walked away from her once, she had to fall at his feet and beg him to do it again.

“Jessie.” His voice stopped her as he followed, darker, deeper than she had ever heard it.

She turned back, facing him as self-disgust, fury, and her own pathetic needs washed over her.

“I love you.”

She blinked back at him in shock.

“What?”

His expression was stoic, resigned, his eyes nearly black as he watched her.

“I love you now, and I loved you then,” he whispered, his voice harsh. “As God is my witness, if I could have found another way…” He swallowed tight, glancing away from her before straightening his shoulders and facing her once again. “If I could have, I would have done things different.”

She couldn't handle this. She lifted her hand, moving away from him before walking to the door and pulling it open with a quick, violent jerk.

“You're not going to do this to me again.” She couldn't look at him, she stared into the hallway, watching the fingers of sunlight wash over it, piercing the fog as the pain she had pushed back years ago began to pierce her heart. “Don't come back, Slade. Not for any reason.”

She heard him breathe deeply as he neared her, felt his warmth as it washed over her, once again warming that place in her heart that had been cold for so long. She steeled herself against it. Slade was a liability to her, and she knew it. He was a weakness she couldn't afford.

“Jessie?” His voice throbbed, the sound of it as agonized as the well of heartache opening inside her.

She turned back to him, staring into the somber, saddened expression that filled his face.

“It doesn't go away. I thought it would. I thought I could do what was right and live with the decision. I thought I could be strong.” A bitter smile shaped his lips. “I learned better.”

He stepped past her, moving into the hall. She watched him go, breathing in with jerky breaths, her lips tightening to hold back the tears as she closed the door quietly behind him. He wouldn't stay away, and she knew it. He believed what he was saying, just as she believed nothing could change the past.

Shaking her head, she moved through the living room to the kitchen and sat down in one of the chairs as a frustrated groan left her lips. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She had spent too many years getting over Slade to let him walk back in and mess up her heart and her head again. Too many years spent trying not to cry, not to give up because it hurt so bad she just wanted to hide.

She was not going to let him do this to her.

His pussy? She didn't think so. She may have faltered in her sleep, but there were ways to keep that from happening ever again, and she would make certain he didn't get the opportunity. He could ambush her when she was dreaming of him, but if he couldn't get to her, then he couldn't ambush her.

She smiled, cold determination filling her. Slade was going to learn that she wasn't the pushover he obviously thought she was.

 

 

 

Jessie was going to play hard to get.

For the first time in five years, Slade felt the blood pumping through his body, anticipation surging through his system. A smile curved his lips. The first one since that weekend he had spent with Jessie, a true smile, filled with amusement, warmth and joy.

Damn, she had always had the ability to do that, to fill him with a challenge, even though he knew she was his. It was a rare woman who had the ability to challenge a man even though he knew he already had her. And Slade knew he had her. She could rage and fight and argue until hell froze over, but she was his, and he would prove it.

She wanted to play first, that was fine. He could handle a little playtime. The sharp edge of hunger had been blunted that morning as he filled her, as he heard her screams echoing around him and felt her pussy spasm around his dick. He'd spent two days, five years ago, teaching her to match his body, his hungers. He didn't care what she wanted to convince herself of, no one else would ever do for either of them.

For now, he sat in the runabout, stretched out in the bench seat at the back, hiding in the shadows as he watched the party on the bank. He had pulled in late, beaching the small craft and searching out Jessie's form. He had found her quickly, chasing about the firelight with Rhonda, obviously taking her shift at childcare.

She was a natural, eagle-eyed, quick, keeping the kids laughing and amused even as she kept them out of trouble. Snacks were set out beneath the awnings of the parked RVs, hot dogs and marshmallows were being roasted over the fires, and through it all, Slade watched her like the living, breathing dream she was.

He imagined her heavy with his child, a smile on her face as another child tagged behind her. She was a natural mother and, for a second, the need to tie her to him, to fill her with his babies was overwhelming.

Fuck, he was no better than Amy. He couldn't and he wouldn't trap Jessie like that, but damn, she had been made to be a mother, created with such a core of nurturing, healing love, that he couldn't imagine her not having his babies. His babies. Not Jazz's, and by God, sure as hell not any other man's. His.

He lifted his beer to his lips, drinking deeply as he contented himself with just watching her. It was enough, for now. Seeing her joking with Momma Rhonda, the little spitfire who ruled the parties held here as any mother ruled a family. Ron stood not far away, always near his wife, always watching her, even when a man thought he wasn't. He was prone to overindulge, but even falling down drunk he watched his wife with a possessiveness Slade hadn't understood, until he found Jessie.

“You gonna come up here or hide all night?” Zack stepped from the shadows and stared at Slade mockingly.

“I'm just watching.” Slade lifted his beer before tipping it to his mouth once again, his eyes never leaving Jessie. “Damn, Zack. I missed this.”

And he had. The camaraderie, it was different here. He maintained a distance as an agent with the various skirmishes ranging to hell and back. He'd lost enough friends, he couldn't face losing friends like Zack or Jazz, so he hadn't made any others.

“Yeah well, you might have been missed a bit too.” Zack jumped to the runabout, moving to the swivel seat in front of Slade as he plucked a beer from the ice chest on the floor and twisted the cap free. “We worried ‘bout ya, man. That was some serious shit you were into. I saw the news story when the stories of the arrests broke. It wasn't pretty.”

Slade sighed tiredly. “No, it wasn't.” He kept his eyes on Jessie, as he had kept her in his mind during those hellish years.

He let a smile tip his lips as he watched Jessie's gaze rove over the shoreline. She couldn't see the boat, or him. A frown marred her brow a second before she turned back to the kids, laughing with a chubby little toddler as he waved a burned marshmallow up at her.

“We worried ‘bout her too,” Zack finally said, his voice quiet. “She wasn't the same. Worked too much. She bought the RV as soon as it went up for sale, going through Jazz to hide it from you, then renting your apartment. It seemed to ease her some, so we let it go. But we worried.”

Not as much as Slade had. He had known Jessie was buying it, had priced it ridiculously low for that simple fact.

“You weren't alone, Zack.” He flicked his gaze toward his friend before it was drawn once again to Jessie. “You know why I did what I had to do. I didn't have a choice. I did it the only way I knew how.”

“Yeah.” He saw Zack's abrupt nod from the corner of his eyes. “I thought we were buddies though. You could have told me.”

“I didn't tell her.” He tipped the beer toward Jessie as she swung another youngster into her arms. “And she holds my soul.”

Zack snorted. “You're waxing poetic, man.”

Slade laughed at the accusation. “She's worth it. Watch her. Son of a bitch, I don't think I've ever seen anything so pretty in my life.”

“Man, you're just eat up with it,” Zack groaned. “I hope it's not contagious. So what are you gonna do, just sit here and watch her all night? Or ambush her like you did this morning?”

Slade swung his gaze back to Zack.

“You think no one would hear her screaming like a dying banshee?” He laughed. “Hell man, I work the office on Saturday. You two had me sweating down there.”

Slade wiped his hand over his chin, grinning back at the other man in unabashed amusement.

Zack chuckled, a thread of exasperation running through his voice. “She's not going to be that easy to pull in, boy. Sideswiping her ain't gonna gain you any points either.”

Slade shrugged, finished his beer and reached for another.

“I can wait. I waited five years.”

“And Jazz? He's taken care of her, Slade. Maybe he's not ready to let her go.”

“Don't remind me of that black-hearted, woman-thieving, poor excuse for a grinning fool,” Slade snapped furiously. “He's lucky I didn't cut his dick off for touching her. And don't start with the Goddamned maybes either. I've had enough of those out of him.”

He still wasn't certain he shouldn't whip Jazz's ass again. The only thing that saved the overgrown jackass was the fact that Jessie had come apart in
his
arms, her pussy so snug she nearly strangled his cock, her eyes dazed, the shock and surprise at the pleasure tearing through her proof enough that Jazz hadn't touched her heart. He hadn't touched what mattered. The rest Slade would forgive. In time.

“So what do you intend to do? Watch her until she breaks?” Zack snickered back at him.

Slade lifted his brow in amusement. “A good agent learns fast when to watch and when to strike, remember that, Zack? She knows I'm here, she knows I'm watching. I'll know when to strike.”

Chapter Thirteen

 

What the hell was he up to?

Monday afternoon, Jessie lay on the balcony outside her bedroom, listening to Jazz, Zack and Slade's voices as they argued over something in the apartment he had tortured her by moving into. Dammit, they had an office, why the hell didn't they take it there instead of interrupting her summer? Besides the fact they wouldn't argue loud enough for her to hear it.

She frowned, catching only scattered words, never a phrase or an inkling to what the debate was over. Her curiosity was driving her crazy. And Jazz, damn him, probably knew it.

The office building itself was back from the main road and fairly private. With the towels she used to cover her balcony rails, she was hidden from view below, allowing her to sunbathe nude whenever she wanted to, as she was now. It was a hazard, because the sound of Slade's voice was making her horny.

Realizing she was once again caressing her abdomen and moving much too close to the waxed folds between her thighs, Jesse flipped back to her stomach. The murmur of Slade's voice was driving her crazy.

At this rate, masturbation wasn't far away and she refused to allow his voice to push her to that point. No matter how good it would be.

It would be easier if she could actually hear him acting like an ass! A frown creased her brow at the fierce thought, even as she snorted at herself in derision. It was a damned lie. Slade's voice, whether pissed off or sexually determined, had the power to make her pussy gush with the need to fuck. The feel of him sliding into her, stretching her, setting her on fire, was one of the things she had never been able to forget. Even Jazz couldn't do that to her. The prickling lash of erotic pain at penetration had been more uncomfortable than pleasurable when he had taken her. With Slade, she only craved more.