Conspiracy Game (GhostWalkers, #4)(71)

“You had no way of knowing Ken and I shared a house.”

“Yes, I did.” Her gaze slid from his, flicked up to the ceiling. “You were worried about him when you were in Kinshasa. The rebels had tortured him, worse than what they did to you, and you were upset that you didn’t get to him fast enough. I caught glimpses of your home and knew he lived close—or with you. I just should have thought about how you’d feel if something happened to him.”

“You were thinking about the baby. You didn’t want to come here,” Jack pointed out. If she was going to be honest about the things she’d glimpsed, so could he. They had to come to an understanding at some point. She wasn’t ready yet, and he didn’t blame her, but he wasn’t going to pretend with her. She’d come to him. She had to know what kind of man she was dealing with. “I intend for you to make this your home.”

“I’m going to take one day at a time. I’m too comfortable with your touch, and I don’t trust myself around you anymore.”

“Don’t worry, baby, if you try to jump me, I’ll fend you off.”

She smiled, just as he knew she would. “Don’t think it couldn’t happen.”

The smile faded slowly and she looked frightened, so much so that Jack wrapped his arm around her waist. “What is it?”

“Doesn’t that bother you? What he did to us? You don’t have to even like me as a person, Jack. All that matters is having sex together.”

He reached for her hand, held it close to his chest, rubbing her skin with his thumb. “I’ve got news for you, Briony. Most men are just fine with that.”

She yanked her hand away. “So I found out.” Hunching one shoulder, she turned on her side. “Isn’t there another bedroom where I can sleep?”

“No. You can sleep in here. I have to be able to watch over you.”

That low note of command was back in his voice, the one that grated on her nerves and implied that he was in complete control, while she was a victim of her runaway hormones.

“Do you ever ask?”

Jack didn’t know why her sarcasm made him want to smile. “No. What would be the point? You’re so tired, Briony, you don’t know what you’re doing or saying anymore. I’m not about to let anything happen to you. If you’d rather I sat in a chair all night, I will, but it won’t change how we’re both feeling.”

“You don’t know anything about my feelings.”

Exasperated, he caught her hand and forced it between his legs, over the thick bulge pulsing with heat and urgent need. “It’s not going to matter a damn whether I’m sitting six feet from you, in the next room, or lying beside you. This isn’t going to go away until I’m buried deep inside of you where I belong.” He let go of her hand, nearly shoving it away from him. “Now go to sleep before I forget all my good intentions and get a little relief.”

Again Briony surprised him. He expected tears—or anger at his rough response, but she laughed softly. “There’s some comfort in knowing I’m not the only one suffering.”

“You don’t have to. You give me the word and we’ll both be sleeping like babies.” If she said no, he might have no recourse but to head for the shower as soon as possible and relieve the terrible ache. It would be fast and cheap and unsatisfying, but hell, he was going to explode. And he had the sinking feeling the solution wouldn’t last more than the next lungful of air he drew.

“I think a little suffering is good for your soul,” Briony said.

Her voice was muffled in the pillow, but he was absolutely certain she was laughing at him. Jack contented himself with smacking her on her pretty little rounded ass, and was more than satisfied when she yelped and glared at him. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of her body naked, stretched under his while he drifted off to sleep. He hadn’t embarrassed himself since he was twelve, but tonight might start a new phase in his life. Even with his physical discomfort, there was something right about lying beside her, having her close enough to hear her breathing and touch her soft skin—just to know she was there.

He heard her even breathing, slow and rhythmic, and knew she’d finally drifted off. Turning on his side, wrapping his body protectively around hers, he pushed his throbbing groin against the curve of her buttocks, one arm around her, his hand splayed over her stomach to hold their child as he allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.





CHAPTER 12





Briony wandered through the large house, surprised by how spacious it was. The ceilings were high and the rooms open, one running into the next. The house itself was shaped in a U, the kitchen, dining room, and great room separating the two wings. She peeked into the rooms in Jack’s wing and found only his bedroom and the bathroom finished. The second bedroom was still under construction, with the walls bare Sheetrock.

In the great room, the furniture was sparse but well made, and she examined it closely, running her hand along the large, wide sofa, remembering Jack admitting that he made all of the furniture. It was beautiful, as were the other pieces, all made of the same hardwood. She didn’t know if it was milled from their own trees, but she suspected it was. The cushions were thick and made of leather, obviously custom-made to fit each piece of furniture. Jack continually surprised her.