Hidden Currents (28 page)

“Eat your sandwich and stop bugging me.” He handed her a glass of milk.

Elle smiled at him over the glass. “You really hate being the good guy.”

He scowled at her. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong impression about me, that’s all. I like my privacy and I think most people are just plain ridiculous.”

“Really?”

The little teasing edge to her voice did something to the pit of his belly. In spite of himself, his body stirred, an aching, relentless need that wasn’t going away anytime soon. “Really,” he confirmed.

He needed a little respite from being in such close proximity to her. Elle wrapped in his mind was intimate, and listening to her voice, soft and melodious, was stroking nerve endings he didn’t need stroked. And then there was the brush of her body, her soft curves and glorious skin. He had to stop thinking about her. Right now, and maybe for a long time, she was going to need healing and care, not someone trying to touch her. But it didn’t stop him from aching to slide his palm over her skin.

Elle moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Jackson was trying so hard to keep from having any sexual thoughts toward her, but the images crept into his mind and washed over her, until a part of her was almost feeding his deepening hunger. She heard the come-on note in her voice, knew she was flirting with him, but the drive in her was becoming stronger.

There was a part of her that knew some of her desire was for the wrong reasons. She loved Jackson and she wanted to know that she could please him, that in spite of everything that happened, he found her attractive. There was a doubt in her mind. It shouldn’t have been there when he’d been so supportive and she could read his growing hunger for her, but still, she worried that he would think about the way Stavros had touched her, had forced another man to touch her and might not want to be with her.

“Don’t do that, Elle,” Jackson’s voice was low. Husky. Sexy. “Never doubt that I want you and will always want you.”

“This is crazy. You can’t have private thoughts and neither can I because the moment you pull away from me, he attacks.” She tried not to be upset that he knew, but it was humiliating, just as his knowing everything that happened to her in vivid, brutal detail was humiliating. Just as he knew that Stavros had succeeded in forcing her body to respond to him.

“Elle. Why are you thinking about him?”

“I can’t help it. I hate this. I hate wondering if I’m ever going to have a life with you, whether I’m capable of it.”

“We’ll have a life together, Elle.” He flashed a small cocky grin at her, one that turned her heart over and made her stomach do a funny little flip. “Don’t count out my skills of persuasion.”

“You have skills?”

“A lot of skills.”

Elle took a breath. She had skills now, too. She hadn’t thought about that aspect, only that she might be afraid to be touched. If she didn’t think about being afraid, if she could let herself relax and just go with her natural instincts with Jackson—her gaze dropped to the front of his jeans—she could work magic maybe.

“That’s it. Go into the other room,” Jackson said.

She could see the bulge in the front of his jeans growing. He turned away from her to busy himself cleaning the counters and pouring the tea for them.

“Well, it’s the truth, you know. I did learn some things. Used the right way they might be fun.” And Stavros could go straight to hell. Everything he wanted for himself, every service she’d learned at his hands could be given in love instead of forced from her.

“Elle.” Jackson’s voice was pleading. “Do you have any idea the pictures you’re creating in your head?” He glanced over his shoulder and studied her face. “Go sit down before you fall down. You’re so pale you look like you’re going to faint. I’ll bring us some tea and then I’ll work on your hair some more.”

“Jackson.” She waited until he turned back from the tea to look at her. “Stop ordering me around.”

He shrugged his shoulders, completely unrepentant. “Someone has to, baby, and it might as well be me. You’re a spoiled little thing and stubborn as hell. Besides, I promised Sarah I’d take good care of you and she scares the crap out of me.”

Elle sighed and went back to her favorite chair. It was large enough to accommodate a big man and she could curl up in it, drawing up her legs and making herself into a small ball where she felt safe. “What do you think about moving inland?” She tried to keep her voice from trembling, and her mind from giving away the fact that Stavros terrified her.

No matter what Jackson said, she didn’t feel strong or even particularly brave. She still felt his hands, powerful and filled with anger, around her throat and on her body. He would never let her go. And now he knew about Jackson. That would only fuel his intense rage. He hadn’t wanted any other man near her and the memory of him murdering the guard after forcing her to service him was burned forever into her mind. The guard’s face kept changing. Elle on her knees, her mouth sliding over Jackson’s shaft, looking up and seeing the gun shoved down his throat. She blinked rapidly to try to stop the burning tears.

“Stop it. I mean it, Elle. If you’re going to think about that then let’s just get it out in the open. You’re terrified that you won’t ever be able to give me pleasure by sucking my cock.”

She winced at his crude terminology, but that was Jackson. His voice was hard, his dark eyes glittering as he strode across the room to tower over her. She felt intimidated, threatened, when she stared at the twin columns of powerful thighs and then up a little higher to the thick outline of the evidence of his desire. She’d been thinking about what the taste and feel of him would be like. Whether she’d be afraid or excited or both. And she’d aroused him. Now she realized she might have done it on purpose.

Elle shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I can’t help but worry about it.”

“You worried about kissing me and we kiss just fine, Elle.”

“He took everything away from us.”

“He didn’t take anything.” His hands dropped to the buttons of his jeans.

Her gaze jumped back to the front of his jeans, mesmerized as he slowly unbuttoned the fly. Her heart began to pound and she moistened her lips. “What are you doing?”

“What are
we
doing, you mean.” He shoved his jeans down and stood there, large and even more intimidating than she remembered from the shower. “We’re going to know one way or another whether or not if you put your mouth around me, I die.”

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes briefly, tightly. “Jackson, I don’t think . . .” He stroked himself, a casual easy movement not only with his physical body, but with his mind. She felt the wave of pleasure course through him, through her. Her body stirred, nerve endings going on alert. Her mouth watered. She wanted the taste of him. She wanted to replace every bad memory with Jackson, to fill herself with him, but this . . . Again she shook her head.

Jackson didn’t move. He didn’t step forward. He didn’t drag her to her knees by her hair, he simply stood there, his hand circling his heavy erection, and he looked as sexy as sin.

“What if I can’t?”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter either way, but it did—it mattered to her. Jackson was everything good in her life, in her soul, and if she couldn’t bring him pleasure . . .

He laughed softly. “Silly woman. Pleasure starts in the mind. He can try to tear it from you and force you to accept him by training your body to a certain response, but it will never be what we have together. You give me pleasure already. I can feel your tongue stroking along the shaft, right here.”

She followed the line of his finger, with her eyes and then in her mind. She almost tasted him. Warm. Male. Wholly Jackson. Her tongue curled and he jumped.

“See, baby? It’s about love, and giving and not about control and serving. I have no doubt that you can bring me all kinds of pleasure anytime you want to.”

Elle didn’t take her eyes from his shaft and the large mushroom head already glistening with a small pearly drop. She wasn’t sickened—just the opposite—she was fascinated. She could feel his breath moving in and out of his lungs, the heat coursing through his body and gathering into his very core. Her hand moved tentatively and she cupped his heavy sac, almost without realizing she’d done so.

Jackson let out his breath in a long rush. Her fingers stroked the velvet texture. He didn’t move, standing perfectly still under her exploring hands. Fire streaked through him when she nuzzled him gently, her warm breath exquisite against his sensitive skin. She felt his reaction as if it were her own, his erection engorged and growing heavier and thicker, burning and aching with need now. She let her tongue run over the broad head just to taste him. His entire body shuddered in reaction. His shaft pulsed and jerked. She felt the explosion of ecstasy bursting through his mind.

“Tell me who has the real power, Elle,” Jackson whispered, his voice hoarse. “This is all you, giving me pleasure. So fuck him. He can’t take anything away from us.” He actually stepped back away from her, trembling a little, but determined not to go any further.

Elle didn’t want to stop. She wanted to see for herself. She hadn’t taken him in her mouth, stroked her tongue over him or felt him slide his shaft down her throat. She needed to know if it was possible without turning the act of giving, of love, into something depraved. Her hands stopped his backward step, fingers digging into his thighs.

“I want to feel you inside my mouth.”

“Baby . . .”

Jackson’s voice was gentle, but it shook, just a little, telling her he wasn’t nearly as composed or in control as he wanted her to believe. It should have scared her, but it filled her with elation. She ran her fingers down his thighs and back up again, stroked the tight sac and leaned forward to nuzzle the base of his shaft.

Jackson’s heavy erection jerked and pulsed against her face. He gasped and a groan slipped out. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Elle.”

She could see in his steady gaze he meant it. This would have been enough for him, he felt she could build confidence from there, but it wasn’t enough for her. He stood there, so sinfully masculine, so giving and tender and she wanted him to feel that explosion of ecstasy again and again. She wanted to be the one to bring it to him. And she wanted to wipe the memory of how it felt to be forced into service rather than lovingly give it.

Her hand circled his wide girth and she slipped to the floor, on her knees in a submissive position. Jackson winced visibly and caught her shoulders. “I’m telling you, baby, this isn’t necessary.” But it was becoming necessary.

His entire body was on fire. What man didn’t love to see his woman on her knees in front of him wanting to give him pleasure? He was afraid to let her, afraid of touching her, afraid of triggering a negative response in her, yet the moment her mouth moved over him, he knew he was lost, caught forever in her spell. The only avenue left to him was to share how she made him feel. He flooded every corner of her mind with sizzling fire.

Kneeling, Elle looked up at him. His face was a mask of desire, lines etched into his skin, white lines around his mouth. His eyes were closed, as he savored the feel of her hands stroking his heavy, thick erection. She felt his lust rising, his desire spreading and it should have scared her, but his love was woven so tightly into every image, into every thought, that she only wanted to feel more, to please him more, to give him—everything.

Hunger invaded, sharp and relentless, a need to feel Jackson, to know the shape and texture of him, to have his shaft filling her mouth, and feel his need of her—for her—filling her mind. She leaned into him, one hand sliding up his inner thigh, the other massaging his balls. She licked along the broad head, a curling sweep of her tongue, teasing him a little, feeling the jerk, the pulse that followed as she licked him like an ice cream cone.

Jackson’s jaw was set, his hands balled into two tight fists, a mixture of such longing and restraint incredibly beautiful to her and such a sexy turn-on. He didn’t grab her hair and thrust his aching cock deep into her throat, recognizing her need to be in total control, but she could tell she was driving him insane with her sensual exploration, her tongue laving and sliding over and around, exploring the hard length of him. His breath left his lungs in a rush as she skimmed her mouth up and down the heavy shaft.

There was no room for anything in her mind but bringing pleasure to Jackson. She wanted to prolong the time, savor it, revel in the way his body became hers. He gave himself totally to her, but a soft growl escaped, and his jaw tightened more, teeth clenching in an effort to stay under control when his desire and need raged like a wildfire.

Keeping her gaze locked with his, Elle parted her lips and, with infinite slowness, took him in, drawing the flared head into the moist velvet heat of her mouth. His body shuddered again. His hips jerked hard, his muscles going tight under her fingers. Even his balls drew tighter in reaction. She moaned, vibrating around his shaft as he slowly sank his length deeper. She heard the heavy rasp of his breath, hoarse and needy.

Love exploded through his mind, hot and hungry and so mixed with lust she didn’t know where one started and the other left off. The two emotions were darkly woven together, inseparable, and she realized she wanted it that way. She wanted this, her gift to him, a treasure she could give him, worshiping his body and not allowing ugliness to touch them. His hunger fed hers. Her mouth tightened around him, tongue teasing and probing while she suckled strongly.

Jackson dropped both hands on her shoulders, fingers tightening. “Baby. You have to stop. We’re getting out of hand here.” His voice was rough, almost unrecognizable.

Oh, yeah. He liked it. He more than liked it. Triumph swept through her. Elation. She ran her tongue up and down his shaft and over the head, teasing at the underside before drawing him deep again, suckling strongly. She was giving everything to her man, showing him love, and no part of Stavros and his ugliness touched them—or could touch them. A kind of euphoria seized her and she engulfed his shaft with her tight mouth, her tongue working magic.