Fallen Woman(82)

I wondered if Hart was watching as well. There was no doubt in my mind he was glued to the same program we were, but it was odd to think anyone cared about what I was doing with my life. It was Jase and Holland that were the story, but I’d come from out of nowhere and thrown a monkey wrench in Holland’s tale. I’d called his bluff. His prey had lashed out, and he hadn’t been expecting it.

Fear ran through me as the news anchor began to recount my story and showed clips of our interview outside the police station last night. She handled it with care and dignity—she told the story exactly the way I’d told her. There were no twists and turns. She included the part where I said until the rape kit was matched up with Holland’s DNA, there was no proof of anything other than I’d been with him and ended up at home with a large sum of money in my pocket. I didn’t state anything as a fact that I couldn’t plainly recall, and she made sure to share that with the viewers.

When the piece finished playing, she spoke with her partner and said, “Mrs. Lane had to take a bus to the hospital the next morning, hung over from the effects of the Rohypnol she’d been given because she didn’t have a car. Can you imagine?”

“No, I can’t, Leslie. It’s a heartbreaking story, but hopefully, it will have a happy ending.”

They closed the program out, and I waited for Jase to speak. I was pleased with their delivery—it was accurate and honest, but it certainly leaned in my direction. The Rohypnol was what would end up doing Holland in. The sex could’ve merely been his word against mine, in which case, I might not have a favorable outcome. But having been drugged changed the entire scenario. Nothing about that could’ve been misconstrued. I certainly didn’t dose myself.

When he turned his head so I could see his face, he was struggling with an emotion I couldn’t identify. “More and more every day, babe.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You did that for me.” He lost the battle as his eyes filled with tears.

“I love you too, Jase. And I did it for us.”

“I’m just in awe of your spirit and your bravery. You never stop fighting. I hate that you’ve had to, but I love your willingness to do it. Every man should be lucky enough to have a woman like you by his side.”

“How do you think Hart’s going to feel about the segment?”

“There’s no way any of that hurt us, so I can’t imagine he’ll be upset…maybe irritated you didn’t involve him so he could take the credit.” He chuckled to himself.

Lying there listening to him, my stomach started to churn. I got super hot and couldn’t get out of bed fast enough as my body glistened with sweat. I threw up in the sink and glanced up to see the sheen on my face. My eyes were tired, my cheeks were flushed, and as quickly as it came, it passed. Jase hovered behind me; I could see him in the mirror, but he didn’t say anything. The look he gave me was filled with apprehension and concern. I ignored his stare, rinsed out the sink, and then brushed my teeth.

There were only two other times in my life I’d felt like this, and both of them had nine-month expiration dates. I didn’t need to take a test. This miserable feeling would soon be accompanied by tender breasts and my inability to keep anything down. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was pregnant, but I wasn’t sure how to communicate that to Jase. There was already so much going on in our lives with Holland, waiting on a court date for the adoptions, a new marriage—adding another thing to the plate with him not working seemed like bad timing.

Those stormy gray eyes softened in the mirror, and a hint of blue surrounded the edges. I could get lost in the windows to his soul. They’re so expressive—the color told me more about his mood than his words frequently did. The hue called to me, enraptured me.

“When are you going to tell me?” He leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankle. The smirk indicated he was proud of himself for figuring it out and maybe even happy about it.

I played coy. “Tell you what?” I asked as I pushed by him and went back to bed.

“Gia…” I loved the way he drew my name out. Instead of responding, I watched the way he moved across the room, the way his muscles flexed with each step, the pull of the tendons in his neck. There was nothing about this man I didn’t find to be sheer perfection. I adored every inch of him.

“Jase…” I laughed as I mimicked his tone.

He stalked toward the bed, his eyes narrowing as if I’d become his prey. The mattress dipped when his knee hit the edge, and he crawled toward me in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. My husband was gorgeous. Every time he got near me half-dressed, all I wanted to do was strip and let him have his way with me. My chest heaved in anticipation, my heart raced with desire, and the warmth between my legs turned into a tingle I didn’t want to ignore.

“Do you have something you want to share with me?” The playful lilt in his voice kept the situation light.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“How long are you going to make me wait?”

The tingling turned into a dull ache, and when I refused to give him what he wanted, he retaliated by denying me what I craved. When he nestled his body between my thighs, it took everything I had not to give in. As he rolled his boxer-clad hips into my center, I almost came undone. It had become a game, but I didn’t think either of us could win or lose. But that wouldn’t stop me from trying to get what I wanted before I rewarded him.