All Jacked Up (Rough Riders #8)(52)

“You’re as wiggly as a worm.”


Keely spooned behind him. “You’re as hot as a furnace. You feeling okay?”


“Just feeling a little…melancholy. No big deal.”


Wow. Stoic Jack confessed a crack in his emotional armor. “Was it something I did?”


“No.” He sighed. “I don’t even know how the hell to explain it.”


Keely kissed the middle of his back. “Try.”


He didn’t say anything for the longest time. Finally, he said, “Being around your family makes me miss my dad. Mostly it reinforces my regret of all we missed out on. Granted, we never had an easy relationship, but I thought we’d have time to change that. Your family makes it look so effortless.”


“It’s not. In fact it’s hard living so close. Seems I’m always overstepping boundaries. Or they’re overstepping mine. I hated when my brothers were gone and I can’t imagine only seeing them once a year.


But sometimes I wonder if distance isn’t better. Makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz.”


“Can you really see yourself living someplace else?”


Keely’s non-response spurred Jack on.


“See, that’s where we’re different, Keely. I never saw myself living on the farm permanently. Not even as a kid. I couldn’t wait to get out and establish my own identity.”


“Was it that awful growing up there?” she asked.


“I hated the constant backbreaking work. I watched my dad toil, year in year out. For what? He and my mother lived hand to mouth. It wasn’t like he spent quality time with us. He liked his whiskey and he liked his quiet. He didn’t have a great relationship with us kids because he couldn’t be bothered to make the effort. So as I watched your brothers, with their kids, how they’re all such great fathers, I wondered if I’d inherited my father’s worst qualities. If I was ever lucky enough to reproduce, if I’d be a shitty father because that’s all I know.”


She had to tread lightly, since this was the first time Jack had opened up to her. It was as enlightening as it was heartbreaking.


“I never wanted to be like my dad. It’s sobering when I consider I am just like him. I’m not a farmer, but what I do for a living is my personal measure of who I am as a man.”


“Jack—”


“But even now, I don’t make the effort with my mother. Or Justin. Or anyone else. I’m stuck in this f*cked-up cycle and can’t seem to change it.”


“Do you want to change it?”


His body stiffened. “Look. Just forget I said anything and go to sleep.”


Ooh. Dismissed again. Luckily she’d gotten used to mood swings when she lived with Cam. Keely pushed away from his warmth and sat on the edge of the bed.


Jack rolled over. “Sorry I snapped. You don’t have to go. Stay.”


Keely ignored his assumption she’d leave when he finally reached out to her. No way. She was sticking. She was annoying that way. She rooted round in her nightstand drawer until she found the pouch at the back. Palming it, she slid back between the sheets. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” She traced the frown lines on his forehead. The rise of his sharp cheekbones. The tensed line of his jaw. The grooves bracketing his sinful mouth. When he closed his eyes and sighed, she knew tonight he needed her to soothe him.


She straddled his pelvis and knocked the pillows aside, pinning his arms above his head.


His eyes flew open.


“Stay still.” Keely urged his lips to part, allowing her to direct the openmouthed kisses she craved.



She tested his reactions as she explored his mouth. Sucked on his tongue. Licked and nibbled and bit as long and as methodically as she pleased. Jack was an active participant, but he didn’t try to wrest control.


She slid her lips up and down his neck. Tasting. He arched when Keely hit a sensitive spot with her tongue. He groaned when she sucked on the tendons straining for attention. She scattered kisses across his pectorals, relishing how the downy chest hair teased her cheek. Mmm. He smelled terrific too.


“Keely—”


“Let me, Jack.” The tip of her wet tongue flicked his nipple. “Or do you want me to stop?”


“No! I just—”


“Then be good, bad boy, or I will stop.”


Jack slumped into the mattress with a terse, “Fine.”


She bent to her task of mapping his pecs with her mouth. She traced the cut muscles with her tongue between lapping at his nipples. “I’ve never seen you working out, so how is it that you maintain such a studly body?”


“I work out at home while I’m watching TV. I’ve used the weight room in the community center several times since I’ve been here.”


“I’m glad. So—” she licked his right nipple, “—very—” she licked it again,


“—very—” and she blew across the wet skin, watching that already taut nipple tighten further, “—glad.”


His hips shot up. “You’re killing me with that mouth of yours.”