Strong Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #1)(77)

When he straightens, he faces me. His eyes click to a stop on mine and we stare at each other. Still neither of us speaks. I don’t know what’s going through his mind, but I’m too afraid of ruining this moment to utter a single word. I’m too afraid that I might be dreaming and I’ll wake up. Or that he’s an apparition and he might disappear. That’s what’s going through mine.

The moment stretches on, tight as a drum, until the tub fills. Jasper reaches down to turn it off and then lifts me off my feet again, setting me in the gloriously hot water. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until the heat hits my skin. I did, however, know how lonely I was, how desperate I was for Jasper. Now that’s all the more apparent.

Eyes locked together, Jasper pushes up the sleeves of his black shirt and takes the washcloth I’d set on the edge of the tub earlier. He wets it, lathers it with my soap and then with a gentleness that melts my heart, he starts to wash me. He drags his hand under my chin, down my chest, circling my breasts several times before he applies more soap and starts again. He follows the same path, only this time takes his cleaning down my stomach where he circles and circles and circles.

I study him the whole time. I watch his face, a face that has always been hard to read, but is now showing me a sea of distress.

“Jasper, what’s wrong?”

His eyes are intent, focused on his hands, but I don’t think he’s seeing them. He seems to be looking somewhere else. Inward maybe.

When he repeats the same steps again, making his way to below my navel this time, I finally understand what this is about.

He’s washing away what just happened. He’s doing the only thing he can to take away the trauma of what I almost experienced, the horror of being that close to rape. And to death.

“If I’d been here, he’d never have gotten that close,” he finally says in a softly haunted voice. It slides over my skin like velvet and moves over my heart like silk.

I catch his wrist and bring his hand up to my chest, where he can feel the thud of my heart beneath the bone. “Do you feel that, Jasper? That beats for you. I feel like it hasn’t beat since the day you left. I’d risk losing my life all over again if it meant you coming back to me.”

Jasper drops his head and rests it along the edge of the tub. Slowly, I sit up, reaching forward to cup his face and raise his eyes to mine. Now is not the time for second thoughts or stubborn pride. I may never get a chance like this again. I have to make the most of it.

“Jasper, I love you. I’ve loved you from the second you walked into my life. And I never stopped. Not for one minute. Nothing else matters. Nothing. And no one. All I want, all I need is you. Just you. And you’re here. Finally,” I tell him, happy tears blurring his face in front of me. “You’re finally here. You came for me.”

I watch as Jasper’s eyes turn to dark gold. I hear his shaky breath as he exhales. I feel the tremor in his hand where it rests against my skin. We stare at each other, something more powerful than words, more powerful than the electricity swirling in the air around us. It triggers a shiver that skitters through my muscles, my body responding to the unspoken, to the undefined.

My stomach twists into a knot and my chest swells with emotion. I gasp. I can’t help it. I want this man. I want everything he can give me, however much for however long.

“Don’t do that,” Jasper whispers.

“Don’t do what?” I breathe, my insides jittering.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Make what harder?”

“Me keeping my hands off you.”

“I never asked you to keep your hands off me.”

“But after what just happened . . .”

“It didn’t happen. And I can’t think of anything I want more right now than to have your hands on me, erasing the touch of anyone else.”

“Muse, I—”

“Make love to me, Jasper. Please.” I move his hand down my body. I guide it between my legs. The thought that someone else might’ve forced himself on me only makes me want Jasper that much more. The touch of the man I want. The touch of the man I love. The touch of the man I think loves me.

He holds perfectly still for a few seconds until I press one of my fingers onto his and guide it between my folds. Tentatively, he rubs me, his eyes never leaving mine. Long ovals, fluid, teasing, until my stomach tightens with a different kind of emotion.

Jasper lengthens his stroke until he is moving ever closer to my opening. When he reaches it, he eases a single finger inside. Sweetly, tenderly.

Desire gushes through me and I feel my muscles clamp around his digit. Our eyes are still glued together. Inseparable. Desperate. Jasper brings his thumb into play, massaging me with it as his finger gently explores me from the inside. He increases his rhythm just enough to take me up to the next notch. I press the back of his hand with my own, a silent plea for more.

Jasper wets his lips and slides another finger into me, thrusting deeper, yet still only slowly forcing me higher and higher. My breath is coming faster. My hips are moving against his hand. Jasper’s eyes are darkening and the world around me is fading.

Then, with a growl that thrills me and movements so fast they surprise me, Jasper lifts me to my feet to stand in the tub in front of him. He leans forward and buries his tongue between my legs, like he couldn’t wait another minute to taste me. A starving man offered a feast, and he accepted.