Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(74)

Need. I wonder if he knows he lingers on that word, and when I cup his cheek and look into his eyes, I see the stark torment of a man carrying the world on his shoulders, a man who needs his own form of escape. And I want to give it to him. I reach up and pull my shirt off. “Now what do you need?” I ask.

He turns me to face the desk, unhooking my bra, his hands caressing up and down my back, leaning into me, his breath warm on my neck. “Control . . . Trust . . . You on my tongue . . . More . . . Say yes.”

This is his escape, what he needs—and I wait for red flags, for the feeling of being violated that I had too many times with an ex who took but didn’t ask. But I feel only desire and need. Only passion and hunger for this man. “Yes,” I whisper.

He nips my shoulder, pleasure rocketing through me, and proof of just how sensitized I am with this man. His tongue follows, and then his hands. Oh, his hands. He undresses me, leaving me exposed, naked with him behind me fully dressed. And yes, this is his control, but it’s my pleasure—and my torment, because I cannot touch him. When finally he turns me to face him, he doesn’t touch me. He presses his hands to the desk, lifting his body from mine, and somehow it’s like he is touching me. And now I need. I need so very badly.

“Jason,” I whisper.

He leans in, his breath a warm fan on my neck, lips by my ear. “What do you need?”

“You,” I say, no hesitation. “I really need you.”

He pulls back, his eyes meeting mine, and there is no torment left to be found. Just passion. Heat. Desire. His hands go to my hips and he lifts me, setting me on the desk, then sitting in the chair. Slowly he eases my legs apart, then his hands are on my knees, traveling upward, until finally his thumbs rest just below my sex. They rest there until I am panting, my nipples so tight they hurt. He lifts my leg to his shoulder and I catch myself on my hands. The other leg follows, and then I’m completely at his mercy, unable to move even if I wanted to.

And what does he do? What does he demand? The best damn orgasm of my life.

And then what does he say? “We’re just getting started.”

It’s a long time later when he proves that is true, when I’m lying with my back to his front, with him holding me, and I snuggle closer. I just want to be close to him. To hold on as long as life lets me.

? ? ?

JASON AND I WAKE UP to share coffee, conversation, and a growing sense of intimacy. We also have the peace of mind of knowing Jack’s men are in place, and we decide to explore Vegas. Unfortunately for me, that means wearing my last pair of faded jeans and a black tee, and Jason decides he’s taking me shopping. A plan he doesn’t share until he pulls me into a shopping mall.

“No,” I say. “I’m not—”

He kisses me. “I’ll have random shit delivered you may hate if you don’t shop yourself. Really expensive random shit.”

“You are so unfair.”

“I won a hundred grand last weekend, baby. I always invest it all. Let’s spend some, for once.”

“For once? I’ve seen your car.”

“Okay, twice.” He laughs. “Maybe more than twice. Whatever the case, let’s just enjoy it.”

Hours later, bags are sent up to our room. A lot of bags, because he kept sending things to my dressing rooms. But he did buy himself a pair of boots, and some cologne I helped pick out.

“Now you learn poker,” Jason says as we leave the mall. He points to a hotel. “My favorite spot.” He slips his arm around my shoulders. “And we walk.”

“It just hit me that not once have I felt followed,” I say. “You think Jack’s men are here?”

“They’re here,” he says. “And think about me, not them.”

A task he makes easy and fun as we play cards, and then hit Jason’s favorite all-night burger joint, and have Daniel join us, our invitation to Abel declined. “He says he’s got a woman thing,” Jason says when we all sit down at the table, fries and burgers in front of us.

“You mean a ‘me’ thing,” Daniel says. “I swear, when he gets angry, he’s like the wrong woman. Pissy for days.”

“Wait,” I say. “This isn’t about the security checks? Because honestly, that was starting to bother me. Why would he be this against everyone being looked at?”

“He gets like this,” Jason says. “Which is why he’s not good at the tables. His passion works for him when he’s acting as an agent, though. He gets hyped up with his clients.”

“And if you’re worried about him in particular,” Daniel says, “he and Jason have known each other for a decade, but I still ran his check and gave it to Jason and to Jack. If this is someone close to us, it’s not as intimate as our inner circle.”

An hour later Jason and I walk back to our hotel, and I stop in a store and buy a journal. Back in our room, we start making a suspect list. I then drill Jason for the kind of information I would need about each if I were preparing for a case. We end up with a laundry list of tidbits we scan and send to Jack.

And we fall asleep talking, with a sense that everything is going to work out. It’s in the air: good things are coming.

? ? ?

TWO MORE DAYS PASS, and Jason and I keep that positive energy going, getting lost in each other and the ins and outs of Vegas, no doubt painting the picture of new lovers taking time out to be together. And it seems Mother Nature, and our instant chemistry, knew what she was doing. We click. We like the same things or enjoy the contrast of those we don’t. We talk. We spend lots of time naked. We make love in the hallway, though I still don’t talk about just how bad things were with my father.