Rules of Protection(81)

Someone had to go first. “Before you say anything, I’d like to—”

“Don’t.” The only word he spoke.

Shit. “If you’re going to yell at me, get it over—”

“Don’t speak.”

Fuck me. What’s he going to say next, three words? The anticipation was killing me, but I sat quietly, wondering what he was thinking. Come on, Jake. Yell at me. Punch a wall. Do something. Anything.

When he moved toward me, I changed my mind.

He sat on the side of the bed, facing me. I instinctually drew away from him, but he wouldn’t allow it. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me back and making me flinch. I still wasn’t sure of his mindset. My eyes refused to meet his, avoiding the storm I imagined raging inside, but he caught my chin and lifted it.

I was surprised at what I saw. Jake looked terrible. No, he looked like shit. And it wasn’t from the bruises left over from the bar brawl.

A painful scowl puckered his face and his dark, unruly hair was disheveled. His gray eyes appeared weathered, as if he had aged ten years overnight. Every bit of the strain showed on his face, but he didn’t look mad. He looked…pitiful.

“Jake…?”

“Shhh,” he said, pulling me into his chest. “Don’t talk.” His hand twisted into my hair as his fingers made feather-light strokes against my scalp. “Jesus, Emily. You were gone, dead for all I knew. I wasn’t sure we’d find you in time and I couldn’t stop thinking if I’d only—”

“Jake, I’m fine.”

He studied my face as his eyes clouded over. “But I’m not.” Then his mouth covered mine.

I tried not to lose my smarts, struggling to control the mind clutter and scattered feelings. But I had to contemplate whether Jake had a passive-aggressive disorder. When his tongue swept into my mouth, caressing mine, I no longer cared. After all, I’m no doctor. Hell, I was in the midst of spiking a fever myself.

When Jake resurfaced, his gray eyes had changed. Cold, murky ashes now smoldered with heat. He traced a velvety finger along my collarbone, as if finger painting across my skin, until he reached the strap of my halter top. Pushing it aside, he gently pressed his lips to my shoulder, then his tongue, making me shiver at his slight touch.

Confused, I pushed him back. “W-what are you doing?”

“If you don’t know,” Jake said, snaking his hand around my neck, “then you’re way behind.” He nipped at my bottom lip and trailed his mouth up my jaw.

“Wait…” I murmured unconvincingly, as his lips brushed across my ear, his tongue flicking at my lobe. But he wasn’t stopping. “Jake, hold on.” I put my hands on his chest and moved him back again. “Why are you acting like nothing happened?”

“I’m not,” he said softly, settling his hands on my hips and pulling me closer. “Something happened. Fine. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Later?” Did we switch roles somehow and I wasn’t aware of it? “Why later? Why not right now?”

“Because, right now, we’re busy.” Jake nudged me onto my back and crawled over me, lifting my shirt to reveal my midriff. He tickled it with his soft lips, moving upward with the shirt until he neared my breasts.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, disrupting the delicate balance of oxygen and carbon dioxide in my brain. It made it harder to think. Was he planning to yell at me later? If so, I wasn’t sure I wanted to have sex with him before getting berated.

With my hands, I blocked his progression to my breasts. “Talk first, sex later.”

He groaned with frustration and flopped onto his back. “Never thought I’d hear you say that,” he grumbled.

“Neither did I,” I admitted, trying to get control of my senses. “What is this? Aren’t you mad at me?”

“For stopping me, yes. For falling into the river and getting lost in the woods, no.”

I tossed him a suspicious glance. “You’re not mad?”

“God, Emily, it was an accident. We knew what happened the moment we found where you fell into the water. What we didn’t know was what happened to you afterward. I wasn’t even sure you made it out of the river alive. Not until Floss reached us on the radio and told us Junior had found you.” He ran his fingers through his hair, the stress of the memory showing plainly on his face. “I knew Junior would get to you first. The boys and I are good at tracking, but—”

“He’s better,” I said, finishing his sentence.

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Junior said that, didn’t he?”

I smirked in confirmation.

“That stupid Indian has no modesty when it comes to his abilities,” he said. “He’s good at everything and damn well knows it. But I guess you know that already.”

“Because he found me first?”

“We passed Junior on the road. He told us about the hogs. You don’t know how lucky you are the Russian boar didn’t get ahold of you.”

“Well, I’m not stupid. I wasn’t going to stand there and let a four-hundred pound pig—”

“Five.”

“Huh?”

Jake sat upright. “Junior said the hog was closer to five hundred pounds.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to feel stupid for guessing low or smart for coming as close as I did.