The Storm Inside (10 page)

Jake half-grinned. The damn dimple smiled at me. My heart took off again.

“She’s just the same. I think I missed her almost as much as I missed you.”

And now I’d stopped breathing. Not to mention how my insides were quivering being so close to his warm body.

His lids lowered and he leaned in toward me, just a little. “Eve, I lied earlier… upstairs.”

It was like he was drawing me in toward him even though neither of us had moved. Or had we? Maybe I’d stepped in to him, because he seemed so much closer. So much more of his scent was wafting around me, making me dizzy. “Oh, what about?”

He loomed over me, his eyes fixated on my lips. “Kissing you. I do. I want to kiss you.”

I was inside his arms now, my head tilting up toward his lips, my eyes gazing into his dark green ones. “I want you to kiss me,” I murmured back.

And he did. He wrapped those big, rough hands of his around my face and pulled me to him. His lips grazed mine gently, kissing first my bottom, then my top lip. Then he claimed all of my mouth, kissing me deeply, his tongue gliding down along mine, searching for a way completely inside me.

I pressed my body flush against his, feeling every molecule of my body come to life for the first time in years. My breasts ached to be in his hands, my legs begged to be wrapped around his trim waist, with him deep inside my wet body. I wanted all of him, here and now at my front door, with Jennie and her new boyfriend in the kitchen. I didn’t care who saw us. All I knew was what I wanted. And it was Jake.

And then for some stupid reason he stopped.

Jake kissed the tip of my nose and my lips, then pulled away and looked down at me long and hard. “I want you back, Eve. I want all of you this time. I can give you everything and anything you desire. There is no more scared, hurt, screwed-up little jackass left inside me. I’m a new person through and through. Someone who can take care of you inside and out.” His hand ran down between my legs. I was hot and swollen, so the contact of his hand against the thin cotton covering me was intense. I gasped and shuddered from the overwhelming sensations it sent through me. “I can be the man you always wanted me to be. But I want you to know it. I want you to want it.” He pulled his hand away and I swayed. “Think about it tonight and we’ll talk on the drive tomorrow.”

And then he left.

And I was so damn confused.

Chapter 6

I didn’t sleep that night. I don’t call that restless, crazy rest,
sleep.
Sleep is restful and rejuvenating. What I did last night was relax my body while my mind went wild.

We kissed.

And it had rocked my world.

If I could understand what made Jake so different from every other man I’d ever known I might finally be able to grasp why he had such a firm hold on my heart. Or why I couldn’t find magic like that with anyone else.

His lips were so soft. How was it possible for lips to be that soft? They had been like whispers against my skin. His tongue was like velvet as it stroked mine. His scent had intoxicated me to the point I couldn’t see… I couldn’t stop reliving those moments over and over again. Each time I thought of his lips my eyes automatically closed and my head tipped back as if I could physically relive the moment even without him there. Just the memory of it made me warm all over and the heat between my legs was almost enough to drive me wild.

I bounced back and forth between those memories and his final words…
I want you back
.

I was like a ping-pong ball all night long. I should be exhausted and yet, I was strangely awake. I was alive with an energy I couldn’t explain. I felt like a live-wire, full of power and potentially dangerous to those around me.

Luckily I had work to do and I focused on it with a fervor—plowing through my obligations for both that day and most of Monday.

At least there was that.

By the time Jake texted me, I was a bundle of nerves. He was outside, parked next to my car and waiting. This was it. This weekend was my opportunity. If I couldn’t figure Jake out in my family home surrounded by my friends and our memories… well, then I was screwed.

The orange Bronco stuck out like a sore thumb next to my sleek graphite colored Nissan GT-R. I really did miss that old orange beast. She was rough and fun. Like Jake. He’d worked on her all through college and we’d taken her on all kinds of adventures. I was pretty excited to take another ride in her.

Jake was laid back in the driver’s seat wearing green board shorts, a tight white t-shirt, a Rays hat, and aviators. He must have seen my approach because suddenly he was up and out of the truck and at my side.

I popped open my trunk.

“Just this bag?” he asked with a ridiculous crooked grin.

It sent a familiar shiver right through me. “Yes,” I replied, not trusting myself to say anymore.

He grabbed the bag and set it carefully in the backseat of the Bronco. His shirt was thin and tight enough I could see every flex and ripple of his beautifully sculpted upper body. I’d always been attracted to him, but this newer, harder body was difficult not to openly appreciate. It was probably some sort of cavewoman instinct to be strongly attracted to tall and strong men; a display that they are capable of defending their family and protecting what’s theirs… and mine was being triggered hard.

“You ready?” he asked turning back toward me, his cocky grin firmly in place.

I popped on my own sunglasses, threaded my ponytail through my hat, pulling it down and flexing the bill around my glasses. Then I smoothed down the tank top and shorts I was wearing over my bathing suit. “Yes. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He watched my fidgeting, I couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses but I knew his looks. He wasn’t causally watching my movements, he was reading my body language. “It’s going to be fine, Eve.”

I hated that he could still read me. It made me feel vulnerable in a way that I didn’t want to be. “Of course it will. We need this.”

He took a step toward me, his long legs covering the gap between us in a single stride, “Yes, we do.” He was so close I could feel the air shift, the hot Florida humidity was pushed aside by Jake’s body, his heat replacing the air around me. He lightly grasped my fingertips, just my fingertips, inside his larger ones. “Let’s go.” He tugged me toward the passenger door, opening it and helping me inside, not that I needed the help. It was a sweet gesture, or at least it was supposed to be. Instead it just made me more nervous. Every second I was awash in his energy was another step toward losing what little control I had.

He backed us out and headed toward Interstate 275 which would take us south over Tampa Bay and the Sunshine Skyway, then south down I-75 to Fort Myers. He grabbed his phone, “Hey, we’re on the road… Great, I’ll keep an eye out.”

After he carefully tucked it back into the console he explained, “Jennie and Andrew should only be a few minutes behind us.”

In reality I didn’t know why I was so nervous to be around Jake. We were each strapped into separate seats, the truck was open to the outside with the top off, and Jennie would be following us. It wasn’t as if he was going to drag me off somewhere isolated and force me to love him.

And it wasn’t as if I didn’t like him. In fact, I was realizing, the anger I’d originally felt toward him for leaving me was starting to fade. And yet I was still completely and utterly nervous around him.

Maybe it was because I knew I wanted to love him.

Jake smiled over at me after he merged onto the highway, “Ask me anything. The next two hours are yours, I’m an open book.”

So it was Q&A time? “Did you like living over there?”

His large, capable hands gripped the wheel a little tighter and his biceps flexed. “Not particularly.”

Then why did you stay?
“What didn’t you like?”

He chuckled softly, “You mean other than the eternal sun and endless desert?”

The bay was approaching fast, the cables of the bridge stretching up ahead, and the salt of the air stung my nose. It was hard to imagine living somewhere so completely opposite of the only environment I’d ever called home. I loved the water; I didn’t think I could survive without it. The salt on my skin and the waves rocking my body were my favorite form of therapy. I couldn’t even adequately imagine what it must be like to live in a desert.

“Yes, other than that.”

He sighed and shrugged his broad shoulders, “There are women over there, but it’s a lot of guys. A
lot
. It can be a bit testosterone heavy, very competitive, and well… hard. Guys are hard; women are soft. The desert is hard… I think when I picture my life over there I think of it as hard.”

Then why didn’t you come home to me?
“It sounds like a good place to work on yourself then.”

“It was.” He glanced at me; he studied me for a moment. “I went to Germany for a week once every six months to see a therapist. Then it was phone calls and video chats in between.” He paused and his face flinched and contorted as he worked through whatever was going on in his head. “I didn’t dick around while I was over there, Eve. I worked. I worked hard. I worked on me and I worked on actual work. I made contacts, built relationships, and got really damn good at what I do.”

“And what exactly is that?” He had a degree in mechanical engineering and was heading his firm here in Tampa—I knew that. But I didn’t know what he
did
; I didn’t know what made him damn good, better than everyone else. I wanted to know what he had finally figured out.

“Materials.” he said with authority, the kind that makes you sit up a little straighter and listen a little harder because you know you are about to hear someone speak who really knows what they are talking about. “I have a gift for identifying the best materials for any project. You and Josh liked my proposal not just because you liked our design but because you liked the price.” Which was true. “I design projects based on need. I don’t design it to be made of the very best materials available; I pick the best for what you need. Not many people think that way, so my projects often come out more streamlined. I don’t include extra crap and I don’t over-design. It’s helped me become very, very successful.”

I arched an eyebrow of curiosity. I’d done my research after his blindside at work. Jake did have a good reputation and, despite his company being relatively new, it had an impressive client list. “How did you meet your partner?”

“Tom. Greg and I had both been working for him for years when I mentioned I was thinking of setting up shop over here. He and I are a good compliment and he likes the office a hell of a lot more than I do, so he handles the more bureaucratic side of things.”

“And you?” I asked, already picturing him scribbling on graph paper or with his hands covered in grease, getting his hands dirty on one of his projects.

He grinned, “You know the answer to that.”

His complete confidence in that fact sent another shiver through me.

“Where has the Bronco been hiding all these years?”

“Greg’s,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Tom ditched it there when we left town. He put her up on blocks and kept her nice in his storage unit. He got her out and had her all tuned up once we got the company up and running and he knew I was coming.”

“Nice friend to have…” I murmured.

We sat quietly for a few minutes. There was so much to ask him but I was finding it hard to find my words. Jake drove in the slow right lane, taking his time and letting us enjoy the sun and wind. It felt surprisingly therapeutic whipping over my skin.

Jake had spent most of two years working on the Orange Beast. Most of it in my driveway. I had watched as he transformed her from an antique rust bucket into a smartly remodeled machine. She was practically weather resistant and ran like a top. I think it was one of his first forms of therapy. He’d bury himself in figuring out her quirks, getting lost for hours covered in grease and with pieces and parts strewn across the garage.

“What are you thinking about?” Jake’s voice cut right into my thoughts like a knife.

“You working on the Beast.”

He chuckled and reached out to caress the dash, “It’s nice to have her back.”

“Did you remodel trucks in the Middle East?”

He laughed good and loud, a nice belly laugh. “No. I did work on a few, though. But no remodels like this. I honestly didn’t have time unless someone needed help. I was buried in work, usually up to my elbows in a machine of some kind.”

It was too easy to picture Jake like that—his hands busy and his mind working. It was who he was through and through.

That ache in my chest started to throb again. It felt like mourning. There was lead in my stomach, the ache in my chest, and the overwhelming urge to cry my eyes out. It wasn’t fair that Jake had such a rough life, a life he felt he needed to run away from.

But then again life wasn’t fair.

Sitting here in the Orange Beast was a painful reminder of that. I remembered the day I came home from defending my honor’s thesis.