Chapter Forty-Nine

“Take it slow, Books. Start from the beginning.”

We’re back in Jake’s mansion. I’m sitting on one of his somber gray couches with his black suit jacket wrapped around my shoulders. He’s sitting on the edge of an elegant glass coffee table directly opposite me, and with his troubled eyes and mussed-up hair he doesn’t look quite so businesslike anymore.

The last hour is a blank space. I can’t recall how we got here or how I came to be wearing his jacket. I’m pretty sure he didn’t have it with him in the bar. But now we’re here, with nothing but the ticking of a distant clock eking into our silence. I’m a wreck, sustained by one thing only. Jake’s not kicking me out…yet.

“My father wasn’t always a bad man.”

Jake’s head jerks up and a look passes between us. I can see he’s trying to remember all the good about his own father, too.

“Can I have a drink?” I mutter.

“Christ, yes.”

He crosses the room to the drinks cabinet in the corner, his long stride covering the distance in no time. I hear the sound of liquid sloshing into a glass, and then something brown and pungent is thrust into my hand. His skin brushes against mine, and I watch our fingers reaching out for one another. It’s instinctive, as if they were separate entities entirely.

Transferring my drink to the coffee table, Jake collapses onto the couch next to me, my right hand now firmly embedded in his left. Neither of us seems willing to let go.

“You won’t leave?” I sound so scared and vulnerable.

His grip on me tightens. “Never.”

Will he take on my past? Is he strong enough for the both of us?

“In case you hadn’t noticed, my mother was, and still is, a social climbing bitch,” I begin quietly. “My father was never good enough, and she constantly punished him for it. They married when she was young, and I came along soon after. He loved her, but she put him through hell.” I grind to a halt, struck by the parallels in our lives again. Both our fathers had been tormented and ultimately failed by our mothers.

“What happened?” murmurs Jake.

“He snapped.” I glance down at our hands again. “He found my mother in bed with my future stepfather, David. It was the final humiliation. He ran up to my room and set about breaking the one thing my mother cared about almost as much as money.”

“You,” says Jake harshly.

“Me.” I reach out for my glass and take a large sip of whiskey, choking as the liquid scorches a hole in the back of my throat. “He was rough, grabbing my wrists and throwing me into the back of the car. He didn’t care. To him, I was nothing more than an extension of her. He probably didn’t even think I was his. My mother had never been faithful.”

“Where did he take you?” Jake’s voice is like stone.

“Some deserted farm. He kept me there for five days.”

“Where the hell were the police? Why the hell didn’t they find you sooner?” He’s on his feet and pacing now. He’s all fire and vengeance on behalf of a six-year-old girl who was all alone and scared to death. He hasn’t even heard the worst part yet.

“My father drank all day. Every day. But he never took his eyes off me. He wouldn’t let me sleep or eat. Some days the hint of a conscience flashed across his face. On those occasions he just drank more.”

Jake stops pacing. “Did he touch you?”

“Not like that. He got his kicks from mental torture instead.”

“What about the gun? Tell me about the gun.”

“How did you—”

He knows. Of course he does. Any man who hires a team of professionals to follow me around would have delved into my past. But when? At what part in our relationship did he uncover my dirty little secret?

“After Morocco,” he says roughly, answering my unspoken question. “Those nightmares you were having.” He shakes his head at the memory. “There had to be a reason why you kept on pressing that self-destruct button. I had to know.” He drops to his knees in front of me, clasping my hands to his chest. His heart is like rolling thunder beneath his shirt.

“Is that the reason you were so cold to me in London?” I whisper. “Knowing what you do about me?”

“Fuck, no.” He looks furious at my insinuation. “I convinced myself you had enough to deal with. You didn’t need all my shit, as well. I came to London because I couldn’t keep away from you. This last week has been hell. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t sleep. I missed you so fucking much. Besides, nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to demote Brad by phone.” He turns my hands over and gently presses his thumbs into my palms. “Come to bed with me, Charlie. I want to consume you, take your pain away. Make you feel secure and wanted. Let me love you. It’s the only way I know how to do that.” He presses his lips to mine, and I can feel his strength bleeding into my mouth. It tastes like paradise.

“What about your business?” I say, breaking away to trace his jaw with my fingertips.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I’ve broken another rule,” I confess softly.

“You mean the don’t-ever-drag-your-producer-to-hell-and-back-just-because-he’s-a-stubborn-bastard one?” He leans into my touch and gifts me a faint smile.

I shake my head. “It’s more of a never-fall-in-love-with-your-producer kind of one.”

A strange emotion crosses his face as my words hit home. Please don’t let it be regret.

I’d be a fool to think I’m the first woman to love him, but I need to count myself among them now. It’s suddenly vital that he knows how much he means to me.

He reaches out and brushes my long bangs out of my eyes. “I guess that means you’re not mad at me anymore?”

I shake my head again. “Not this time.”

“Do you want to stand still with me?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod.

“Even though we have earthquakes in California?”

“I’m pretty good at keeping my balance.”

Jake’s lips start to twitch. “I’m pleased to hear it.” He guides me to my feet and lifts me into his arms. “I don’t want you waiting around to be someone’s else’s moment, Charlie. Not when you’re mine.”

I rest my head against the crease of his neck as he walks with me to his bedroom. It’s a masculine space with white walls and dark furniture. I’ve been here before, but so much has happened over the last few months. I’ve changed. We’ve changed. Tonight, I’m here as his lover, not as his one-night stand.

He lowers my feet back to the floor and slowly removes my clothes, one item at a time. “You may think you’re broken, but I only see the bravest fucking woman I’ve ever met.”

“Kiss me.” I’m desperate to feel his lips on mine again.

“All good things come to those who wait, and I’ve been waiting a long time for someone like you.” He steps back to remove his own clothes. As he does, I catch teasing glimpses of bronzed skin in the moonlight. His upper body is flawless, exactly how I remember it—broad shoulders, carved chest, tapered waist. When he unzips his pants, he’s hard and ready. My desire for him reaches fever pitch.

“I need you, Jake.”

“Then get on the bed and show me how much.”

I scrabble backward to comply, never disconnecting from the lust in his eyes. I part my thighs wide, grinding my heels into the mattress. I’ve bared my soul to him, and now it’s time to bare my body.

“Fuck.” He whistles. “You’re too beautiful.”

I close my eyes as he trails a finger from one hipbone to the other before skating downward. A low hiss escapes from his lips. “I’m going to worship every part of you tonight. By morning, there won’t be an inch of your body that hasn’t been fucked or kissed.” As if to prove his point, he drops his mouth to my lower stomach, making my insides clench.

Warm and wet, his lips are moving downward, licking and tasting and igniting my core. But it’s not enough. I need to feel him inside me. I need the strength of our connection. He seems to sense it, too, because he dips between my legs and slowly eases into me.

“I’ve missed this,” he says with a groan, sliding in even deeper as I lift my hips to meet him. “We’ll make this work. We have to. We don’t have a choice anymore.”

I spread my legs wider, and he buries himself to the hilt. The fierce, possessive look on his face only intensifies the spell he’s weaving over me. I’m raw and undone by the outpouring of my emotions tonight.

“Love me.” He molds his mouth to mine, a demand so harsh and needy that another wave of wetness soaks my core.

He moves at a breakneck pace. Urgent and uninhibited, like me. We’re using our bodies to communicate just how much we want to heal each other.

Without warning, he pulls out of me and flips me onto my front. He pushes my knees up to my chest and slams into me from behind.

“Jake!” I cry, clutching wildly at the sheets. That familiar sensation is building, building, and spreading like wildfire throughout my pelvis.

“You feel so good, Charlie. So. Fucking. Good.”

I’m blown apart by his words. My cry turns into a sob as I shatter around him. In the moments that follow, it feels like he’s consuming every part of me, just as he promised. The hurts of my past splinter all around us like broken glass.

My present, Jake, has overridden it all.