Chapter 152

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Tessa wandered through the house, clicking off lights and checking the locks as she prepared for bed. Her fingers tightened on the doorknob as the muscle car that had initially given her such a rush, sat in her driveway.

Still.

Was he out there, waiting? Did he really need to be this stubborn? She’d given him the out he needed. That you needed. She stuffed down the stupid voice. Louder now—annoying and unbending.

Like Jon.

Her fingers dug into the trim along the sliding window of the second floor. Watching a droplet of water dribble down the glass, her thumb and first finger toyed with the lock. She should check to see if he was still outside. She flicked off the last light next to the television, but there was no sign of Jon on the porch.

Cursing, she padded down the stairs and checked the more sheltered patio, but still he wasn’t there. The lingering drumbeat of rain gave her a twinge of conscience. It was his fault if he was going to sit out there and get wet. He could sleep in his car or on the porch. It wasn’t like it was that cold. He could find a hotel. He had unlimited resources for God’s sake.

It wasn’t her problem.

The clatter of a chair against the house made her flinch. “Dammit,” she muttered, rushing to the window again. The surf was raging as the wind kicked up. Her fingers curled around the handle of the back door and she unlocked it.

“No, he’s a big boy.”

She relocked the door and crossed her arms over her lightweight t-shirt. She was going to bed. Cracking her knuckles, she turned away from the door and walked to her room—okay, so it was slowly, but she was going. If he wanted to be comfortable he could take some of his millions and go to a hotel—hell even a motel, dammit.

It wasn’t her problem he was stubborn.

Like you?

“Shut up.” Great, now she was answering the voice. She snapped the sheets back and slid into the crisp cotton sheets. She curled into the big, fluffy down comforter that somehow kept her warm or cool, whichever she needed. She turned off the light and the sound of the rain became more pronounced. The wind seemed to batter against the glass as fiercely as the rain.

She stared at the ceiling. Hell—even the shadows of the raindrops lay there against the ceiling. “I hate you,” she whispered. “Shit!” Flinging back the covers she stalked down the hallway to the back patio door of the second floor. She pounded her hand against the llight switch, snicked the lock open and shoved the door wide.

“Jon!” She called out. “Are you still out here?”

Silence.

Nothing.

Hugging her arms to her chest she winced as the wind and spray hit her. “Stupid man.” Her feet instantly prickled at the cold floorboards puddling with water. She called his name again.

Nothing.

She went back downstairs to the lower deck, but it was equally drippy with tide spray, rain and wind that stung her cheeks with both. He wouldn’t be up on the widow’s peak. That was just stupid. “Of course he would,” she muttered and pounded up the stairs.

She hit the spiral staircase with a gasp as the rain hit her full force. “Jon, you stupid shit, do you want to catch your death of cold?” She shouted as she rounded the top. Water ran down the sides of the deck, drumming against the deck below, slickening the stairs until she had to hold onto both rails. “Jon!”

The bench and the chairs lay empty.

No Jon.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she growled turning back around. Her heel kicked out as a hooded figure filled the stairway. Sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt stuck to every inch of his lean body, dark and heavy with rain.

A hand clamped on each of her arms as he hauled her upright. “You okay?” he called out over the wind. She nodded and he advanced on her instead of retreating back down the steps. “Stubborn, willful—“

“Pain in the ass, arrogant, stupid.” She answered back, lifting her chin.

Instead of answering her, his mouth crushed down on hers. Too surprised to jerk away, she stood frozen. There’s no way he should even be slightly warm with the cold rain, but his body was like a furnace. His mouth was flame hot as he hauled her into his arms.

She pushed at the hood over his head, her fingers scraping through the half damp strands. Rain poured around them on the curved stairwell. The wind battered her. Jon battered her.

Jon.

Her Jon—there.

Still there. She could yell at herself later. Now, she wanted him, just him. She returned his kiss, sucking his heat into herself. God, it felt like she’d never been warm before. She was up an extra stair from where he stood so they were on even ground. Her arms circled his shoulders as their mouths met, kiss for kiss, heat to cold, feeding to starving.

His hands went around her waist, crushing her into him. Surely there had to be steam coming off of them. Lips mashed as they couldn’t seem to get close enough. His teeth scraped across her cheek to her ear, down her neck and back to her mouth as if he had to keep her mind off of stopping.

Like she could stop right now? Could she ever stop wanting him? Needing him? Was he like a drug or like her other half? She couldn’t seem to pull that apart right now.

His fingers dug into her ribs as she arched back. He sipped rainwater from her skin, nosing away the material until he found her shoulder. “Stop me now,” he snarled against her neck. “It’s been too long, Tessa.”

The inky night didn’t give much away, but she could feel the ache coming off of him—or was it her?

She pulled back, his fingers almost bruising as he held onto her. His chest heaved and the stony line of his jaw flexed in the low light. Pushing him back down the steps until they reached the overhang, she pulled him into the light. His eyes were a stark, turquoise blue filled with pain and longing. God, what were they doing to each other?

Without a word, she opened the door, backing herself inside she took him by the hand. Would this night be enough? Would it change anything? Would it help? Would it rip them apart? Would it put them back together?

She touched the tip of her fingers against his mouth. “I don’t know about tomorrow yet.” She lifted her shirt over her head until the thick ropes of her wet hair slapped against her shoulders.

Instead of answering, he curled his hand over his shoulder, tugging the sweatshirt over his head until they both dropped them to the tiled floor. Puddles dripped off their hair, their feet, their clothes, but it didn’t matter. Her eyes soaked him in. The lean lines of his waist, the rippling muscles that hadn’t been there before. Tough and refined—edgy with raw power. Her fingers shook as she dropped her hands to the boxer shorts she was wearing.

He held up a hand to stop her, rolling down his heavy sweats, stepping from them. Kneeling before her, he tugged at the ends of the shorts. She hissed as they slowly lowered. With each inch, he tasted her. A flick of his tongue along her hip, the low curve of her belly button until his hot breath teased along the very center of her. She swayed and his fingers gripped her thighs to steady her.

Staring up at her, he rolled the wet material over the curve of her ass until she was bare to him. Her fingers tangled into his wet hair as he nosed against the line where her thigh met hip bones. Dragging his stubbled jaw against her lower belly, the dent of his chin coasted over the low curve where she was already wet for him. Instead of touching her there, he flicked his tongue over the top of the thin line of hair and traced his way along her ribs and over the hollow of her stomach.

When he lifted her, she hooked her knees over his hips and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His mouth caught hers again. Pent up frustrations urged his mouth into a rougher kiss and she answered him with one of her own. Teeth clicked and nipped as tongues tangled for dominance. She hated herself for using him, but the moment he’d touched her, she’d been lost.

She’d been lost when she spotted him on the beach, she thought distantly. Then turned it off. She wanted to feel something—anything. And his mouth on hers, his body on hers, left little time for thought.

It was all feel.

He walked them down the hall as she groaned against his mouth, tearing herself away to trail her tongue over the rough sandpaper of his jaw, his neck…the Adam’s apple she loved so much. They toppled onto the bed, his shoulders shuddered under her as if he was holding himself in check. His knee pressed into the mattress, opening hers as he caged her in. His fingers curled into the sheets, into the comforter, tearing it back.

“Stop me now.”

She shook her head, dragging him higher on the bed until he was on top of her. The crisp hair of his chest pressed down on her aching nipples as his breathing went heavy with lust. Shadows and rain dotted the windows, throwing his face into shadow. The pronounced line of his nose, the slash of his lips, the glitter of his eyes in the dark—all there. Not a dream.

Here.

Now.

She could feel his cock hard against her, drilling into her thigh. God, she wanted that inside of her. Filling her. All those empty spots. Just for an hour. Just for a moment. Anything to quench this thirst, this undying need for him flaring hot and real inside of her.

His fingers curled around her knee, dragging it higher on his hip as he sucked a nipple into his mouth. She pushed at the pillows around her head. The pillows that had given her a sense of something around her now, were intrusive. She flung them against the wall, to the floor, away from her. Away from them—until it was them and only them on the crisp sheets.

His knee knocked her legs open wide, his arms shaking beside her head, her shoulder as he held himself in check. Her fingernails raked along his back, ropey muscles shifted and bunched under her hands. He held himself up above her, his mouth on her breast, hot and wide.

Arching up against him, she scraped down to his ass, pulling him closer…on top of her. “Please,” she whispered.

His hand disappeared between them, the blunt tip of his cock pressed against her. The pressure against the tiny knot inside of her had her squirming up against him.

Jon, inside of her again. Him over her. She shuddered, her breath coming too fast.

Oh God. Him. Inside of her again. Filling her again. Everything inside of her wanted it, but she wasn’t sure she could survive it. She couldn’t find enough oxygen.

Stopping everything, his eyes locked with hers. Sweat, rain or a mixture of both, dripped down his cheekbone. He swiped the silky head over her hood, until she jerked against him. He stopped, just on the edge of entering her.

His mouth was there, on hers. Filling her with his breath instead, his certainty. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he finally pushed forward. The invasion felt like the first time all over again. Stretching and filling, pleasure and pain as he inched his way inside of her.

His hips flexed against hers as they slowly moved, as their rhythm came back and the rain and the wind seemed to die down until it was just them. The slapping of skin, the groans from his throat—from hers. The slipping sweat and silky glide of excitement, the slope of an orgasm crested and burned until she rolled him.

Riding astride him, she undulated above him, watching the pleasure and the growling need race over his features in the dim, blue night. His fingertips dug into her hips, increasing the speed, knowing just what she needed. The friction tossed her up and over into a helpless scream and then she was back under him.

Her arms up, over her head as he slammed into her. His mouth in her neck as he pushed for more, forced her to feel more. She jerked against him, as his fingers wound around hers, pinning her there under him as he took her. She screamed out the pleasure and the unrelenting fear that seemed to be locked inside of her.

His name was a guttural and unrelenting sob as he poured himself inside of her. Gathering her into his arms, he hauled her up into a seated position with him still buried deep as he rocked her. The pleasure and the fear coalesced until there was nothing but him.

Always him.

Would be forever him. God help her.