Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4) (25 page)

“Yes.”

“The flash mob?” he asked.

“Technically, that was Emma’s thing. She dragged Jonah into it, but he sure as hell enjoyed it.”

“And the twerking?” His tone was laced with amusement.

She laughed softly, her face on his chest. “Oh, that’s all me, baby.”

They lay there for a long while, her sprawled over him, listening to his heart, him petting her hair. Both in silence.

“Jack?”

“Mmm?”

“What do you mean you read the police report?”

“Of course I did. That’s the sensible thing to do when new people come into your life. Have them investigated.”

“You had me investigated?”

He assented. “Thoroughly.”

“And?”

“It was as I suspected. All trouble.”

“I’m glad,” she mumbled, little by little falling asleep.

When she woke up, dawn lit the sky. She lifted her head and found Jack looking at her. After her hissy fit and her crying jag he hadn’t let go of her, holding her tight. And funny enough, she didn’t feel trapped. She felt great. Lighter than she had in years, even before the accident that truncated everyone’s lives.

“I fell asleep.”

A smile flashed on his face, softening his otherwise harsh lines. “You did.”

Man, her Borg was so handsome with that do-not-fuck-with-me vibe. He was the hardest man she’d ever met, and not only in the physical sense. Jack was the most uncompromising, the most infuriating, and yet there was something about him that soothed her. In spite of all his lord-of-the-manor comments and behavior, he was steady as a rock.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He tucked her hair behind her ear. “This Diablos gathering you want to attend, that’s something you used to do with Jonah, right?”

She nodded. “It was our thing, although the last year I bailed on him. Too busy keeping bad company.”

He studied her for a long moment and then asked, “How important is it to you?”

ELLE LOOKED AT him, her beautiful eyes shimmering. “Very important, Jack.”

“I understand you wanting to honor your brother, but getting killed is not the way, pet. If you need to honor his memory, I’m down with it, but do it by living to the fullest, enjoying every second, not spacing out and going through the motions on automatic. Spacing out delays the pain, but it also delays life and all its joys. Not to mention Maldonado is in Boston.”

“Yes, but at a fund-raiser,” she insisted. “He doesn’t know about me. All of us wear glasses and scarfs, and with the costumes, it’s virtually impossible to distinguish who’s who. Please—”

He placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. “I’ll make you a deal, pet.”

“Name it. No sex, though. I don’t exchange sex for favors.”

“Me neither. I’ll get the sex from you anyway.” She narrowed her eyes at him but he pushed on. “I’ll let you attend the Diablos parade. Afterward, you’ll stay where I put you, quietly and without complaint, while I go take care of this Maldonado situation.”

“Where exactly do you intend to put me?”

“Someplace safe. You won’t give them any trouble and you will wait for me to come fetch you. Agree?”

“Your language is so politically incorrect I don’t know where to start. You’ll let me? Then come to fetch me?”

He ignored her remarks. Political correctness had never been one of his priorities. “Do we have a deal?”

“You know, in spite of the gruff package, you’re sweet,” she said cupping his face.

“I’m many things, pet. Sweet is not one of them. Now answer, do we have a deal?”

She saluted him. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Smart-ass.

“How do you intend to take care of the situation?”

The only way he could at this point. Taking Maldonado out. Before Elle, bringing the drug lord to justice and making a dent in the trade and the violence of the cartels had been his goal; now that wasn’t an option. Elle was his priority and Maldonado was a threat to her as long as he was alive. But he didn’t say anything. And she must be starting to know him, because she didn’t push it.

“Where does this Baile de Diablos take place?”

“Little Italy. Lots of people. It looks chaotic from the outside, but it’s all synchronized.”

He was so going to regret this. “Where’s your outfit?” She was not getting even a mile close to that event without her gear on to disguise her.

“Rosita’s.”

“El Baile de Diablos; that’s not Italian.” That was Spanish for the dance of the devils.

“Probably because it isn’t strictly an Italian tradition,” Elle admitted sheepishly.

“What?”

“Nowadays it’s most spread out over the Mediterranean coast of Spain, in Catalonia to be more precise. Very old tradition dating to Roman times. And you know anything Roman is basically Italian, right? So we sort of claimed it. Besides, some of the founding members of the group did their research and there’s some evidence of this tradition in Italy. It just didn’t survive to Modern times. And Chinatown was getting ahead with their New Year celebrations and their dragons. Little Italy needed an edge and dancing devils shooting fireworks, having fun and being irreverent is so Italian.”

Jack barked out a laugh. Thank God these people didn’t decide running in front of the bulls, which the Bowens were so fond of doing in Pamplona, was also a Roman tradition or they would claim it for themselves too and bring it to Little Italy.

“Why didn’t you change the name?”

“No need. Spanish language evolved from Latin, and Latin was the language of the Roman Empire. And anything Roman—”

“Is basically Italian,” Jack finished with Elle in unison. “You’re nuts.”

“We keep busy.”

“You cold?” he asked, noticing her shivers.

“A bit.”

“Come on, let’s move closer to the fireplace. Hold on to the blankets,” he said hauling her up and taking the whole bundle to the next room and leaving it on the rug.

He turned to stoke the fire and then felt her light touch on his back.

“A fallen angel.”

Fallen angel. Demon. Same thing.

“And the cock piercing?” she asked as he lay down beside her. “Does it have some hidden spy capabilities? A cyanide tablet inside one of the balls?”

He chuckled. “Standard issue. No cyanide tablets.”

“You lost a bet, then?”

Like he would ever risk his cock in a bet. “Have you ever heard that saying that one guy has one brain, two guys have half, and so on? It’s true. The exponential loss of brain cells the more males you get together is a fact. The younger the men, the worse it gets. If you add alcohol in the mix, the neural degeneration snowballs.”

She burst into laughter.

“The rule that no-body alterations while inebriated? Not that strict, I’m afraid. My cock is the living proof of it.”

All things considered, they had been lucky they didn’t get any disease and their cocks hadn’t fallen into pieces, because next day they couldn’t even remember where they got the piercings done. First and last time he’d ever blacked out.

“Don’t tell me Kai is the one who pierced you. Is that the reason why you dislike him so much?”

He shook his head, sobering up. “I dislike him because he had you in his bed.”

She stared at him for what it felt like an eternity. “He didn’t.”

Relief at her statement flooded him. “What about your tattoos?”

“Constellations,” she said. “Orion the Great Hunter chasing the Pleiades, the seven sisters, daughters of the Titan Atlas. On the other leg Scorpio, sent by Artemis, forever chasing Orion.”

Orion, the eternal hunter, being eternally hunted. Very fitting.

“Funny description for an astronomer,” he said, caressing her thigh.

She shrugged. “I could call the Pleiades M45, an open star cluster with middle-aged hot B-type stars in quadrant NQ1, but doesn’t have the same ring. Humans always looked at the skies to find their own place. It doesn’t hurt to dress it up, right?”

She straddled him and brushed her lips over him. “I think I’m going to take your advice and start to work through the inspirational sentences. Love slowly.”

He couldn’t stop the chuckle. Of course she would choose to start making a dent in that during the most painful moment for him.

She was not rushing it, caressing him. Taking her time. Then she moved downward and teased his nipples.

“You need to be careful at the Diablos, pet. I can’t call Mullen or any backup without risking them trying to get you away from me. You have to do as I say.”

She stopped nuzzling his chest and lifted her eyes to him. Her nod surprised him. Then she proceeded to trace his scars.

“What are you doing?”

“Soothing you.”

Jack stilled at her words. “I don’t need soothing.” No one took care of him, ever. He took care of himself.

She ignored him and touched the scars from the cigarette burns with trembling fingers. “Of all the scars, these small ones are the most horrific. No wonder you—”

“What? Turned out to be such a bastard?”

“No. No wonder you are as hard as you are.”

“That’s on me, pet. What I became. Can’t stand losers blaming their childhood and others for their choices and how their lives ended up. They need to grow the fuck up, take responsibility, and own their shit. Make something of themselves.”

“Like you did.”

“I had motivation. A child to look after.”

She cupped his face and looked at him for a long second, the softness in her gaze killing him. “You know, I totally strayed this time. No asshole here.”

Tension stiffened his body. “Don’t go there, pet. And don’t get illusions. I am an asshole.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “No, you are not.”

He felt naked. So fucking naked. He ached for her, for something he had no name for. Every time he touched her, this weight pressed at his chest, because there was not only lust between them; there was something else too. Something bright and warm and precious, glowing more and more with every passing moment. “Do you need me to prove it? Because hey, glad to,” he said, standing up. He had to break this intimacy.

Before she could react, he’d hauled her up, taken her hands in one of his, tied her up, and then hooked the ropes to the O-ring in the ceiling.

“That’s all you got?” she asked, lifting her chin, defiantly.

Her eyes were shining, her breath coming out in short pants, but she stood proudly.

He grabbed a cloth and blindfolded her.

She stood taller. Prouder. The shadows of the fire reflecting on her body, playing off all the swells and hollows. All her luscious curves. “You don’t scare me, so don’t even bother with all this macho tripping and power games.”

“This is not a game,” he said, roughly opening her legs.

“You need to prove you’re an asshole? Go ahead, but you don’t fool me; you’re just deluding yourself. And throwing a tantrum while you’re at it.”

He walked around her, stopping at her back, and ran a finger from her neck, along her spine, down to her ass, and closed in to whisper in her ear. “Keep talking and you’ll earn a ball gag.”

She snorted. “Bring it on. You’ll have to take it off at some time, won’t you?”

“I don’t know. Will I?”

“You love my mouth.” True. “And my smart-ass remarks.” True again. “You keep me gagged, you won’t get either.”

“You are defenseless. I could take whatever I wanted from you.”

“Again with the useless intimidation. Yes, I am defenseless. I’m blindfolded and tied, but only because you’re afraid of me. Really, just give it up. You wouldn’t take anything that wasn’t freely offered.”

It floored him. Her confidence in him. How brave she was. How fucking beautiful. Fire outside. Fire inside.

“Going for the ball gag,” he warned, walking around and looking at her face.

“As you wish, but I think you’ll want to hear me.” She wrapped her legs around him, her hot, wet pussy encasing his cock.

He gripped her hair and pulled her head back, pressing himself against her core. “I say when. I say how.”

“Sir, yes, sir. Would now be a good moment for you, sir?”

He’d had many women tied up for him. Not a single one had rocked his world the way Elle did it. Giving herself to him yet never losing her spunk.

“How badly do you want me?”

Her whole body stiffened as she tried to lift herself and force him to penetrate her. “Badly.”

He hooked his elbows under her knees, breaking the grip she had on him. “Next time, I’ll tie your legs too.”

“Promises, promises,” she said, a teasing smile on her face.

Uncomfortable with that level of intimacy, he surged balls-deep inside her, slamming against her full force, his mind almost blowing at the intense sensation.

She gasped, clamping around him and he froze, lifting his gaze to her. With the blindfold on, he couldn’t read her eyes.

Before he could say anything, she pressed herself against him. “Don’t stop. You surprised me, but I liked it. You didn’t hurt me.”

Jesus fucking Christ. She was perfect for him.

Slowly, he withdrew from her until his crown was just kissing her damp folds. Then, putting all his weight behind his thrust, he plunged to her depths. She cried out, throwing her head back and bowing her body, but not away from him. Toward him.

“More,” she let out in a shudder. “Harder.”

He could do nothing but oblige. Giving her more, watching, enthralled, as she took all of him until she exploded, her pussy squeezing him so tight he was a split second from coming.

He ground his pelvis over her throbbing clit and took off her blindfold. He needed to watch her, and needed her to watch him.

“You do it for me, pet,” he said, trying to hold on to the last shred of control.

Her smirk was all sass as her inner muscles clamped around his erection. “I can tell.”

“No. You don’t get it. You really do it for me.” At all levels.

“Really?” She stilled. “I thought you didn’t like abrasive women.”

“I don’t, but I like you.” Which was an understatement if there was ever one. He really, really, liked her. All of her. Even when she was being a pain in his ass and confrontational and giving him hell, which it was most of the time, he found himself with a smile on his lips. When she was being sweet to him and offering him her body, trusting him with it, it just blew his mind. And something else too, because every inch of her tugged at his heart.