[English] THE CLOSER YOU COME (Gần bên anh)

The Closer You Come
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“But—”

“Nonnegotiable,” he said. “You will be on call every weekend. With pay.” Again to keep her from getting another job. “I anticipate many casserole and sandwich emergencies in my future.”

“But—”

“Agree or not. Those are my terms. The rest is up to you.”

“Agree,” she gritted out.

“Then it’s settled.” At last he climbed out of the pool, deciding it was better she see his scars than get the peep show of a lifetime as he unintentionally stroked himself to completion while drowning.

Her gaze followed a trickle of water down his chest, and she gulped. “Anything else?”

His step faltered. Was that arousal he heard, turning her voice to smoke?

He swallowed a groan, deciding to drape the towel around his waist rather than his shoulders, hiding his growing erection instead of the damaged tissue left over from multiple fights.

“Yes, there’s something else,” he said. “Your chores. You’re in charge of cleaning the house, grocery shopping, laundry, meals. All meals. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, and every snack in between. And just so you know, we like dessert with each of our meals and even our snacks. You’ll also be in charge of writing a positive affirmation every morning.”

She blinked up at him. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I was doing most of that stuff already. I’ve been your non-wife wife for days.”

He couldn’t stop the tide of warmth spilling through him, and it made his tone snappier than he’d intended. “You are not my wife, non or otherwise. Understand?”

She held up her hands, all innocence. “Whatever you say, Mr. Hollister, sir.”

When she went prim and proper like that, he just wanted to drag her against him and kiss her breathless.

“I like when you call me sir, Miss Dillon. Let’s make that a new requirement.” And now he needed distance. “You’ve got work to do. You’re days behind. Just don’t do anything too strenuous. I mean it.”

“Ten-four, sir.”

If he had any hope of abiding by his own rules, he might need even more than distance. He might have to create some kind of emotional rift between them. He knew of only one way to do that.

He led her inside the house, gave her a gentle push toward the couch. “I seriously think you should rest before you begin. You’re a delicate flower, and I respect that.”

“Flower? Rest?” She glared at him. “For how long?”

“Just a few hours.”

“Hours?” she echoed hollowly. “I told you before. I’m not an invalid.”

“Maybe I should get you a bell,” he persisted. “You can ring it anytime you need me.”

She hissed like a cat that had just been poked with a stick. “Do it, I dare you. The bell will only stop ringing after I cram it down your throat.”

Wouldn’t do to smile at such a threat. He turned away, certain it would be best to end the conversation now.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “Jessie Kay asked me to give you something.”

He curbed the urge to take off like a bullet before facing her once again. “What?” he asked, unable to hide his sudden stash of wary. Jessie Kay had been a mess when she’d first arrived at the hospital. She’d clung to him, and he’d comforted her as best he could. She had faults, yes, but so did he. He’d gotten a glimpse at the heart of her, and it was clear she loved her sister. But she’d called and texted him countless times since, asking him out, telling him how much she cared about him, how perfect they would be together.

“This.” Brook Lynn held up a strawberry-shaped locket. “You can put a picture of your girlfriend inside it.”

He stiffened. Did she want him to date her sister? “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I know. But maybe one day you’ll find someone willing to put up with you.”

“I won’t.”

“That’s what I told Jessie Kay,” she announced.

He frowned, not liking her adamancy. He could commit if he wanted. Look at Daphne. If she’d stayed with him, he would still be with her. They’d be married, maybe even have a kid.

A pang of longing hit him, but he quickly quashed it.

There’d be no kids. Not for him. Not ever, he reminded himself. He didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s emotional or physical well-being. If he screwed someone up the way he’d been screwed up, allowed his own flesh and blood to be hurt, the increase of guilt would finally choke him. He was sure of it.

“Jessie Kay wants to prove a picture of a girl won’t burn the skin off your chest,” Brook Lynn added. “If you open it up, you’ll find her favorite selfie.”

Something about her tone stuck with him... Was that jealousy? He wanted to study her features, but wouldn’t permit himself the luxury. “Being with her was a mistake,” he said softly. “You know that, don’t you?”

She hesitated before starting, “But—”

“No. No buts. She’s a good girl. Pretty, smart and capable, if only she’d try, but she’s not for me. That’s never going to change.”

“Fine. Sir.”

The word he’d meant in jest somehow created the very distance he’d thought he needed between them, but he realized now he couldn’t stand it. “I’ve changed my mind. You’ll call me Jase.”

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“You’ll be lucky if that’s all I call you,” she muttered.

The sun must have shifted outside, because a beam of light suddenly spilled through the curtains, hitting the locket; the beads glimmered, and he couldn’t pull his gaze away. Clear stones in varying shades of red were anchored together with tiny black ones. Such exquisite detail, each piece glinting in perfect harmony. He remembered seeing similar trinkets in the shop and being impressed by the craftsmanship.

“Did you make this?” he asked.

Silence.

Finally, he glanced up. Brook Lynn’s attention had moved from him to...he wasn’t sure where. She would be totally deaf this week, he remembered Jessie Kay telling him.

He tapped her arm, careful not to linger too long on her softness, and when she faced him, he repeated his question.

“I did, yes,” she said, her pride obvious.

“I—” Love it. “Thank you,” he said, carefully placing the necklace in his pocket.

“I’ll tell her you were pleased.”

“Don’t,” he said. “That will only encourage her.”

Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Sleeping with her also encouraged her.”

He thought he heard irritation mixed with another hint of jealousy. As if. Only hearing what I want to hear.

He gnashed his teeth. “Rest. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“I don’t have my bell,” she replied with sass.

“All you have to do is shout, and I’ll come running.”

* * *

THIS DAY IS going wonderfully, Brook Lynn thought. And terribly.

She didn’t rest, and she didn’t leave her implants on silent, as ordered; she got started on her chores, listened for Jase and pondered. Her mind was like a playground for naughty toddlers, different thoughts swinging from different parts of the jungle gym.

After her bout of crying last night, she’d picked herself up yet again and decided to put all of her eggs in Jase’s basket. And okay, that was a stupid saying, making her think of female eggs and Jase putting his—

Never mind. Now that she was putting all of her time and energy into her job with Jase—better—she would be able to get a full eight hours of sleep every night. A dream come true! She would get to cook, one of her favorite activities, and still have time for fun. Finally! She and Jessie Kay would be able to eat right because she would ensure Jase and his friends ate right, the four main food groups part of everyone’s daily diet: something fried, something with gobs of butter, something with heaps of sugar and sweet tea.

For the first time in a very long time, she had nothing to complain about. She had hope again, all because of the man interested in seeing to her every need.

So...why do I feel so unsatisfied?

Jessie Kay had taken off before Brook Lynn had awoken, so she’d sent her sister a text telling her she’d be at Jase’s and afterward, Brad’s. It was time to plan the details of their date.

Her sister’s response?

Will U B drinking while UR w/Brad?

No.

Playing strip anything?

No.

Having ***?

NO!

Then why the heck R U going 2 see him?

A woman rounded the corner, her short, dark hair mussed, her cheeks flushed from exertion. Her clothes were wrinkled and her button-up top misaligned. She also had on a pencil skirt and mile-high heels, and she was clearly a professional of some sort, not in the hooker sense, but in the someone-who-worked-inside-an-office sense.

She spotted Brook Lynn, skidded to a stop and scowled. “Who are you?”

“Uh, that would be my line.” The woman was unfamiliar, not from Strawberry Valley.

Professional tightened her hands around the strap of her briefcase. “Beck told me he was single. If you’re his wife—”

“Wife?” she heard from around the corner before the man in question sauntered in and wrapped his arm around Professional’s waist. “Nah. She’s my permanent side slice, so she doesn’t mind sharing me for an hour or two. Isn’t that right, pookie?”

“Not right,” Brook Lynn said with a shake of her head. “Not ever.”

Beck shrugged, unabashed. “She’s just mad because I only ever let her role-play the exalted position of wife in bed.”

“We have never been in bed together,” Brook Lynn gritted out. “Never will.”

“You’re kidding, Beck. I know you are.” His newest conquest relaxed against him. “You have the most amazing sense of humor.”

Gag me. Please.

Beck wore a suit and tie, his clothing as straight and perfect as if they’d just been pressed. Not a strand of his hair was out of place.

He kissed the woman on the temple. “You should take off, pretty. Work is calling your name.”

She turned in his arms, and Brook Lynn thought she responded with “I’d rather hear you scream it.”

Could he even remember it?

O-kay. My cue to vanish. Brook Lynn moved out of the kitchen. But Beck and his lady lover followed hot on her heels. Or rather, Beck followed, dragging the gal with him.

“Though it pains me to say it, there’s no time for a repeat performance.” Beck patted Professional on the bottom. “You know I need at least two hours to enjoy you properly, and that’s only if I’m in a rush.”

The woman ate up the flattery as if he meant it, clinging to the lapels of his suit.

Beck ushered her to the porch and blew her a kiss—just before he shut the door in her face.

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Brook Lynn shook her head. “You are the man parents warn their daughters about.”

“Thank you.”

“Because it was totally a compliment.”

He wagged a finger at her. “You’re my assistant,” he said. “And yet, I strangely do not recall being assisted with this bang and bail.”

“Actually, I’m Jase’s assistant.”

“Why limit yourself? You can work for us both. Besides, if Jase had been inside, he would have commanded you to get rid of my date for me.”

“You did fine on your own, and you didn’t even have to prepare your special breakfast.”

“That’s because it’s lunchtime,” he said, as if she were missing a few brain cells. “What are you serving?”

“To Jase? Sandwiches. They’ll be ready in thirty. To you? Only advice. If you don’t want your conquests to get the wrong idea, don’t let them stay the night. Or, I don’t know, maybe keep it in your pants once in a while.”

“I met Helen...Harriet?...this morning. We came back here for a quickie. Her idea.”

“Seriously?”

He walked over and cupped her cheek. “Yes, cupcake. I’m that good. And for your information, I would be willing to keep it in my pants, no problem, but I keep getting requests for showings.”

She batted him away. “I know where that hand has been.”

Unoffended, he adjusted the cuffs at his wrists.

“You need a new hobby,” she told him.

For a moment, only a moment, his expression registered seriousness. “Sometimes *** is the only way to keep the darkness at bay.”

“Beck,” she said, suddenly wanting to hug him.

He grabbed his car keypad from the kitchen counter—apparently he drove some kind of alien vehicle with a keyless start—and flashed her a wicked grin meant to shut down any sympathy on her part. “By the way, I’ve been tracking down a surprise for Jase. Someone from his past. I don’t think he’s interested anymore, but he has a right to choose, you know? Anyway, I’m close *****ccess, so for my reward I’d like a ham and cheese casserole for dinner.”

“Someone from his past?” If he wanted a meeting with an old school chum, she would like to be the one to track the guy down. Because she owed him. Not for any other reason. “And what do you mean, choose?”

“Sorry, pretty, but I only share information that important when I’m naked.”

“Then I’ll happily go to my grave ignorant of the person’s identity and the choice Jase has to make, whatever it is.” She motioned to the sandwiches she’d spent the past two hours preparing. Even rapid-rise fresh-baked bread took time. “Take a look at the lunch you’re not going to get.”

He might have whimpered. “I’ll change your mind. Just see if I don’t.” Beck gave her a jaunty salute before stalking from the room.

Well. While the bread was cooling, she had better check on Jase. He was probably dying of thirst. And she couldn’t let that happen, now, could she? She filled a glass with water and carried it outside, the sun hotter and brighter than it had been a few hours ago. She scanned the backyard. The shed Jase had refurbished so expertly looked brand-new. The redbuds and magnolias were in full bloom, the towering oaks throwing umbrellas of shade in every direction. Lovely, but there was no sign of Jase.

“Jase?”

The squawk of black birds was the only response.

She trudged around the side of the house—and that’s where she found him. His back was to her, and he was as still as a statue.

“Jase,” she repeated and walked around him.

He was staring at his hand. His bloody hand. Crimson pooled in his palm and dripped onto the ground...a discarded hoe.

She gasped, horrified, and dropped the water. “Jase, are you okay?”

He gave no indication that he’d heard her, just continued to stare down at his injury. His expression disturbed her. It was totally and completely blank. As if he wasn’t all there, his thoughts far away.

Not wanting to startle him, but knowing he needed help, she gently tapped his shoulder. “Jase.”

The contact jolted him out of the trance, and before she could blink, his arm shot out. He shoved her with enough force to send her tripping backward, falling to her bottom. She landed in the cold water she’d spilled, the glass rolling away from her. His face contorted into the darkest, meanest scowl she’d ever seen, scaring the crap out of her. His hands fisted, the blood now pouring from the wound.

He took a menacing step toward her, and she would have sworn she saw her death shining in his eyes. He looked at her as he’d never looked before: as if she were a stranger to him. A faceless threat to be eliminated.

She crab-walked backward, uttering a trembling, “Jase? Please. Listen to me. It’s me, Brook Lynn.” There was no way she could defend herself against him if he attacked, the strength she’d once lauded enough to kill her.

Fear moved through her like an avalanche, growing stronger, bigger. Consuming her.

He just kept coming. Closer and closer...

“Jase.” She lumbered to her feet and held out an arm. A puny move, but what else could she do? “You’re scaring me, and I need you to stop. Jase!”

He blinked, skidded to a halt. “Brook Lynn?” Frowning, he shook his head, as if to clear cobwebs. “Are you okay?”

Relief gradually melted the avalanche. “I—I’m fine.”

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“You have blood on your shirt. A palm print.” He frowned, peered down at his hand, then peered at her shirt. When his gaze finally met hers, she saw a flash of horror and guilt—even anguish—before it went blank.

He started to close the distance between them. She flinched, and he planted his heels in the ground, remaining in place. “Did I hurt you?”

He didn’t know? Couldn’t remember?

What the heck had just happened?

If he was a cop, maybe...maybe the sight of the blood had taken him back to a violent memory?

“No,” she said, her trembling growing worse for some reason. She wrapped her arms around her middle.

“You...should go home,” he said. “Please go.”

Maybe I should. Or maybe we’re finally making progress. She’d just seen a side of him she’d never seen before. One that didn’t just hint at vulnerability but screamed it. And though it had scared her—there was no way around that fact—it was kinda like catnip to her. She wanted to curl into his lap and purr against his throat, tell him everything was going to be okay, that they would get through this...whatever this was...together.

“I’m going to bandage your wound,” she said.

“No.”

“Yes,” she insisted. “Don’t argue. You’ll lose. I’ll meet you in your bathroom.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JASE REMAINED IN place long after Brook Lynn walked away, trying to put the pieces of what had happened together. He’d been removing weeds from the side of the house. That’s right.

He’d thought he’d heard a noise behind him and jerked, cutting his hand on the hoe as he glanced over his shoulder. He’d thought he spied a man dressed in brown darting behind the bushes. Jase had stepped forward, intending to give chase, only to realize it had to be a deer. He caught glimpses of wildlife every day.

He’d glanced down to see a well of blood in his hand, and he’d flashed back to all the times he’d been jumped. Sometimes with fists, sometimes with shivs. In nine years he’d endured a total of twenty-three stabbings across his torso and a few more scattered over his legs. He’d lost count of the number of fights he’d participated in, only knew he’d won more than he’d lost. He’d endured several broken bones and had suffered...other things. Things he rarely ever allowed himself to remember.

Held down...too many hands to knock away...

A knee in my back...

Clothing being ripped.

His breath sawed in and out faster, hotter. Brook Lynn must have come upon him while he’d been trapped inside his head. He remembered the softest of touches on his shoulder, the softest of voices saying his name. Soft—when soft was the last thing he’d ever gotten in prison. The contrast had been enough to pull him out of the abyss. At least partway.

He’d...pushed her.

The image of his bloody palm marring her shirt would forever plague him.

He stumbled to the side until he came into contact with the house. He leaned his forehead against the brick. Little tremors slipped down his spine, dislodging beads of sweat.

He couldn’t face Brook Lynn, and he certainly couldn’t let her help him. He deserved castigation, and she deserved better.

West and Beck were right. Jase had judged her from the first as someone too good for him—because she was.

Something else his friends had nailed? Jase had feelings for her. Feelings he could no longer deny.

With the admission, a bright light suddenly shone inside his mind, chasing away the darkness, causing the monsters of his past to hiss and run for cover, letting him confirm what he’d suspected. His armor had indeed been cracked, and Brook Lynn was the cause. She had somehow burrowed deep, deep inside him, and he might not ever be able to pry her loose.

Panic rose, swift and sure. One day, he would lose her. That was just plain fact. If she didn’t meet someone else, she’d have questions about what just happened. Even if he managed to omit the worst of the details, she would eventually find out about his prison stint, about what he did to Pax. She could grow to fear him...hate him.

He could have lost Brook Lynn today, even. He could have done serious damage to her, without even realizing it. Still could, if ever he lost control again.

Can’t take that risk.

He managed to pull himself together and stomp inside the house. Now wasn’t the time for brooding. It was the time for action. He found Brook Lynn in his bathroom, standing by the sink.

She’d anchored her mane of pale hair into an adorable ponytail, two tendrils hanging over her ears. She’d washed her face and changed into one of his shirts.

How was she more beautiful every time he saw her?

You know what you have to do. He did, but first things first. “I’m sorry I scared you, honey.”

“Don’t worry. I’m over it,” she said.

At least she hadn’t tried to deny her fear. “Good. That’s good.”

“I hear a but.”

Just do it. “I hate to say this, but...you’re fired.”

“No, I’m not.” She motioned to the closed toilet seat. “Sit.”

“I’ll still pay you,” he said.

“Of course you will. Because I’m still working for you.”

“Brook Lynn—”

“Jase.” She anchored her hands on her hips. “You don’t like what just happened. I don’t, either, but now we know it’s a possibility. We’ll be on guard against it and handle it better if it happens again.”

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So that was it? No questions about what had caused it to happen in the first place?

Far, far too good for me.

The ache he’d by now grown used to intensified, sharper than ever before, as if it had sunk deeper inside him, spread and taken up more space—but he sat.

She cleaned the wound with soap, water and then peroxide. Blood continued to leak from the long slit that stretched from his index finger to his wrist, and though her touch was gentle, every bit of pressure stung. He’d endured worse countless times before, so maintaining a neutral expression wasn’t difficult. He’d never allow her to feel guilty about hurting him.

The fact that she’d stayed to help baffled him. Thrilled him. Even humbled him. He felt as if she might actually...care for him.

How was that possible?

After she squeezed antibiotic cream on the injury and wrapped a bandage around his hand, she studied her handiwork and frowned. “I’m clearly not a medical professional. You probably need stitches.”

“Nah. The cut isn’t that deep.”

She met his gaze with a gentleness that confused him. “How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“Jase.” She crouched between his legs. “We need to talk.”

Words every man dreaded, but she was so close he could smell the sweetness of her scent, feel the sensual heat of her, and both short-circuited his brain waves. He had to grip the sink on one side of him and the tub on the other to keep his hands away from her.

Tension grew between them, sharpened, until it was utterly unbearable. He imagined his mouth on hers and had to cut back a groan. He imagined his fingers trailing over her curves and had to cut back a plea.

He was clean. He even had the paperwork to prove it. He could take her, thrust inside her and—

“Be honest with me,” she said quietly.

Reason returned, and he tensed. Here came the questions.

“Were you a cop?”

Wait. What? “A cop?”

She nodded, the ends of those pale tendrils caressing his thighs.

“Why would you think that?”

“Okay, I’ll take that as a no.” Her mouth tugged into a frown. “Were you in the military?”

Understanding suddenly dawned, bright and devastating. She thought he had PTSD because he’d defended his country. She wanted to think the best of him, probably couldn’t even conceive the horrors that had led to the incident outside.

How disappointed she would be when she learned the truth.

Another reason to get rid of her.

“Brook Lynn,” he said and sighed. “It’s time for you to go.” He’d beg her if necessary.

She shook her head, stubborn. “No way. I’m staying until either West or Beck return. I’m not leaving you on your own.”

The ache...so much worse. “It’s just a cut.”

“And it could open up again, and you could pass out, bleed out.”

“It won’t. I won’t.”

“Jase,” she said, raising her chin with more stubborn determination. “The only way you’re getting me out of this house is if you carry me kicking and screaming.”

* * *

BROOK LYNN SETTLED on the plush leather couch in the living room. Jase had not been happy with her refusal to leave and had muttered, “If you’re going to stay, fine. But I’m going to work, and you’re not, because you’re still fired,” before stomping into the kitchen to peel wallpaper. He’d admitted he eventually needed to open up the walls and replace all the wiring and pipes, but he didn’t want to be without a kitchen while she was the chef.

He didn’t peel long. From the sounds of it he’d noticed the sandwiches she’d prepared and dug in. A short while later, he called, “You’re rehired, effective immediately.”

She was worried about him. Not about the cut on his hand. He was right—it wasn’t that deep and probably wouldn’t open back up. But he was so closed off right now. It scared her even more than the push. And the fact that he hadn’t flinched as she’d doctored him, when it must have stung like an SOB...there was something wrong with that. Though it had been ***y.

But mostly wrong. And ***y.

Why did he go *****ch lengths to keep his emotions hidden? Because he did have them. She knew that now. The intensity of his rage...

If he’d served in the military, he could be having flashbacks.

She remembered how Beck and West had mentioned “six months” the night of the party. Had Jase been discharged six months ago? Well, no wonder he hadn’t yet acclimated.

“Need any help in there?” she called, knowing he’d finished his meal and had restarted his newest task.

He came barreling into the living room, pointing a sheet of wallpaper at her as if it was a weapon. “You’re on a break. You shouldn’t be offering to help.”

She leaned against the arm of the couch, getting more comfortable. “Good friend that I am, I’m willing to cut the break short just for you.”

“I’d rather you—” His gaze landed on her midsection, and he sucked in a breath. The muscles stretching from his shoulders to his fingers flexed as he stepped closer to her.

She glanced down. The hem of her shirt had ridden up, baring her midriff—now quivering under the heat of his masculine attention.

Her eyes flipped back up, locking on his. The whole atmosphere of the room seemed to change in an instant, the air sizzling with sudden awareness. Of him. Of her. Of what they could do together...

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“Jase,” she said, the neediness of her tone almost enough to make her cringe. Let me make you forget your inner wounds. Let me feel what I haven’t felt in years: pleasure.

“Brook Lynn, I can’t—I shouldn’t. I—”

He turned abruptly and stalked back into the kitchen.

She pushed out a shaky breath. Despite what had happened outside—or maybe because of it—her fascination with this man hadn’t lessened. She imagined his warrior hands all over her, his mouth following in their path, and nearly slid off the couch.

He was a puzzle. He was damaged by his past. He had secrets, and he would die before he admitted he needed her. He may not have realized it, but he’d leaned into her every time she’d put her hands on him, his body telling her what his expression and tone had not.

But...there was Jessie Kay. There was also the date she had with Brad, the one she’d thought to firm up later today. However, they hadn’t actually set a date, so she could get out of it pretty easily.

Should she?

And what about Jase’s stance on happily-ever-afters?

The guy was clearly more of a fixer-upper than she’d ever realized, and she’d sworn off fixer-uppers for all of eternity.

The end result might make all the work worth the effort.

She rested her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes, picturing Jase and Brad side by side. What she wanted versus what she thought she needed. Passion against compatibility.

She imagined Brad trying to kiss her and shied away from the image.

She imagined Jase trying to kiss her and moaned for more. Fire ignited in her veins as her nipples drew up tight and arousal dampened her panties.

A few minutes later—surely that was all the time that had passed—she felt as if she was floating...floating...gently stretching over a cloud.

“Sleep, angel.”

“Jase.” A breathy sigh escaped her as she realized he had carried her to bed. “Want,” she admitted, hovering somewhere between awake and asleep, where nothing but sensation existed.

“You’re going to be the end of me, I know it.” Strong but gentle hands smoothed over her brow, warm and callused, comforting, but just as she leaned into the heat, it vanished.

Her eyes popped open. The bedroom was dark, all the lights out, and though there was a crack in the blackout curtains, no sunlight seeped through. Hours must have passed. But even in the gloom she could make out the strength of Jase’s silhouette—he hadn’t walked away.

“Come back,” she begged, reaching for him.

She heard a soft curse before he shucked his shirt and pants and climbed in beside her, surrounding her with his heat once again. She snuggled close, loving the feel of his skin against the exposed parts of her. Warm, mint-scented breath tickled her scalp. The scent of soap and musk filled her nose. Tingles danced over her, driving her to move against his hard-as-stone body. She couldn’t not move, a week’s worth of pent-up desire desperate for an outlet.

A broken moan sounded in her ears. “Brook Lynn, honey. You have to stop...what you’re doing... You have to...”

“Can’t.” Her limbs were heavy, achy, her body writhing, writhing of its own accord, searching for release.

He gripped her hips to still her with his strength.

Every bit of willpower she possessed was needed to roll to her other side, away from him—before she started up again, despite his grip. Even that innocent action was too much for her sensitized nerves to tolerate, and she moaned.

“Go to sleep,” he said.

“Yes. Okay.” But how could she with him so close? She needed to leave, and she would, just as soon as her body was under her control again. Deep breath in, out. In. Out. Good. Gradually, the ache eased, but rather than hopping up and driving home, she found herself drifting off...

...and dreaming of kissing Jase, writhing against him, touching him...

...and waking up however long later facing him yet again, panting, his hand draped over her rib cage, just under her breast. She went still. The heat and ache were back—only stronger.

He was awake, his expression tight with tension. His body tense.

“Jase,” she said. Why wouldn’t this stop?

“I tried to resist,” he rasped, the ragged quality of his tone making her shiver. His hand inched up, coming closer and closer to cupping her breast.

Would he do it?

A blush heated her cheeks. She remembered writhing against him...and couldn’t blame it on a dream. “I don’t... I mean, I...” Her voice was so breathy. “Jase.”

His gaze hooded and his hand finally conformed around her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple. His voice lowered. “Do you want me to take the edge off, honey?”

He meant...he wanted to...

Her blush deepened. “I...”

“Let me.” He cupped her backside with his other hand and pulled her closer. As he wedged one of his legs between hers, his tongue thrust inside her mouth.

Every cell in her body melted, practically fusing her against him. His erection— Oh, oh! Long, thick and right where she needed it. She arched into him, rubbing. He grunted his approval, swiping his thumb over her nipple a second time before he tangled his fingers in her hair, fisting the strands. He angled her head to kiss her deeper, harder.

Sweet sensation poured into her and filled her up, chasing away the loneliness that had always seemed to plague her.

She wished the room were brighter. The need to see Jase’s chest, to explore every ridge of muscle, every design etched in the skin that so fascinated her, proved overwhelming.

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As her fingertips rode the hard ropes in his stomach, sliding lower...lower still, tunneling under his underwear...he thrust against her, mimicking the motions of ***. A hot flood of liquid pooled between her legs.

She swiped her thumb over the moist slit of his erection. As he gave another thrust, she released him to reach up and suck the taste of him into her mouth.

His nostrils flared as he watched her. “Not sure how much more I can take. Ready to spill already.”

“I guess we’d just have to start all over again,” she rasped.

“You are...perfect.” His mouth returned to hers, actually slamming down, and it was hot. Wild. She met his tongue with her own, the two rolling together, hinting at what was to come...hard and dirty. He kneaded her breasts and plucked her nipples as he slowed to a lazy grind against her, stoking the ache inside her higher and higher.

Never been this good...and he hadn’t even moved past her clothing yet!

Jase knew exactly what he was doing. Fueling a fire deep inside her, making her want to burn.

“You feel so good,” he said.

She couldn’t think of a reply. Her thoughts were fragmented, each broken by a single need: more. More of Jase. More of his taste. More of his touch. More of his hardness. She rolled her tongue against his, even bit his bottom lip, passion driving her every action. Her fingers played with his hair, roved over his back. He was strong, even there. Especially there. His muscles were as hard as granite. She raked her nails over his shoulders, all the way around to his nipples, only to caress those beaded tips gently.

His shudder rubbed him against her all over again, and she finally found the right words to say. “I’m so close. Need...”

“Let’s get you closer.” He traced a fingertip between her breasts, down her stomach and dabbled at her navel before playing at the waist of her shorts. He tugged at the button, pulled at the zipper. “You wet for me, angel?”

Angel. It wasn’t the first time he’d used the endearment, but it still caused her heart to skip a beat, delight going head-to-head with...a sudden wave of suspicion.

Had he called Jessie Kay angel?

Brook Lynn froze. She had yet to tell her sister about the first kiss she and Jase had shared.

“Wait,” she whispered. “We can’t do this.”

Jase reacted as if she’d bellowed. He stiffened from head to toe. And then...then he withdrew from her and scrambled from the bed, standing at the side to peer down at her. He scrubbed a hand through his mussed hair. “You’re right. We can’t.”

“I just need to call Jessie Kay and—”

“No, you don’t.” The frost returned to his eyes, seeming to grow colder, thicker, by the second. “This was a mistake.”

Pleasure still coursed through her, and he considered what they’d done a mistake?

“I don’t understand,” she said, trembling inside and out.

“You want more than I have to give.”

“No. I don’t.” Except...

I do. I really do. Once would not be enough. Not even close. Two kisses, one touch, and he’d already addicted her.

“You deserve more,” Jase said, sounding tortured. Looking it, too.

“Why can’t you give me more?” she asked softly. Maybe, if she knew his reasons, she could—

No, no. I don’t try to change a man’s mind. Either I’m worth fighting for, or I’m not.

He offered her a smile so sad it broke her heart. “It’s like I told you. Relationships between men and women become toxic. Always. I don’t want that with you. I want to enjoy the time we have together.”

The time we have together... To him it was inevitable that they’d part.

“So that’s it?” she asked. “You’re not even going to try?”

Who am I, pushing like this?

A girl who wanted this man more than anything.

“If you knew half the things I’ve done...” He shook his head, adamant. “One day you’ll thank me for this.”

He feared her reaction to his past? “Tell me what you’ve done. Let me prove you wrong. Please, Jase. Give me a chance.”

He opened his mouth, and for one tormented moment he looked as if he would fulfill her request. Then he said, “Go home, Brook Lynn. When you come back tomorrow, I’ll be the boss, and you’ll be my employee. Nothing more, nothing less. For your safety and my peace of mind, that’s the way things have to stay.”

* * *

TRUE TO HIS WORD, Jase treated Brook Lynn like a distant employee twice removed the next morning...and the next and the next. Each time she arrived at the house, he gave her a new list of chores that involved cooking, cleaning, keeping house and even finding a venue for a “Congrats on the GED!” party for a girl she’d never met.

Also, Brook Lynn was tasked with those stupid daily affirmations. So far she’d offered gems like I will assume full responsibility for my actions, except the ones that are someone else’s fault—which will be all of them. And Every part of me is beautiful and brilliant...even the ugly, stupid parts.

At first, she simmered at midlevel anger over his treatment. Mouth-bag her and push her away? How dare he! But it wasn’t long before the anger began to slip away, leaving her with curiosity. What had shaped this man? The father he’d never known? The mother who’d allowed her boyfriends to hurt him before he was put into the system? The many foster families he’d gotten to know...only to lose? The job he hadn’t named?

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A past as volatile as his had probably caused major attachment issues. Her eyes widened, and she gasped. Finally! Answers. Brook Lynn and Jessie Kay battled their own attachment issues, determined to hold on to everyone, while Jase must have veered to the other end of the spectrum, determined to hold on to no one, fighting with everything he had to save himself from further hurt.

Which meant...I have the power to hurt him.

He cared!

Her sudden flood of joy was tempered only by concern. Not just a fixer-upper. He’ll have to be torn down and put back together if we have any hope of lasting long-term.

No question, he would resist any attempt on her part to win him over. But if she could just breach his first line of defense—those frosty walls—she’d have a shot at him.

After what had happened in his bed, she knew beyond a doubt the end result would be worth every wrong turn, every inconvenience.

I will have him. One way or another.

But first things first. Her sister.

After she had dinner with Beck and West—Jase had taken off without a word—she drove home to await Jessie Kay’s return. Miracle of miracles, the girl had gotten a job plucking wild strawberries at a nearby facility, and she’d kept it all this time.

An eternity seemed to pass before the front door’s hinges creaked. Brook Lynn jumped up as her sister trudged into the house.

“Strawberries suck.” Jessie Kay groaned with fatigue as she threw her purse on the coffee table. When the bag slid to the floor and the contents spilled out, she flipped it off and left it there. “I’m moving to someplace called Blueberry Fields. Or Pineapple Cove.”

“And they’d be lucky to have you,” Brook Lynn said, her palms beginning to sweat. “I baked your favorite carrot and apple casserole today. Though I had to fork Beck’s hand, I managed to come home with half of it.”

“Thanks, but I snacked on my dignity on the way home.”

“Too bad. Kitchen. Now.”

Jessie Kay sighed. “Warden is in the house, I see. Are you fixing to start counting?”

Gotta take it down a notch. “Sorry. No.” Brook Lynn warmed a plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and the coveted casserole.

As Jessie Kay pretended to eat, Brook Lynn drummed her fingernails against the table.

Finally, her sister asked, “You trying to tell me what’s wrong in Morse code?”

Maybe. It’d be easier. “I’m just going to say it. Blurt it out and live with the consequences.”

“Great. That’d be a nice change.”

Brook Lynn pursed her lips. “When did you become so snotty?”

“When did you lose your lady balls?”

Good question. Okay. So. “Are you ready?”

“Been ready.”

“I...well.” She closed her eyes, drew in a breath. “I want Jase.” And now there was no taking the words back. She peeked through her lashes. “I want him for me, not for you. And I think...I think he wants me, too.”

Jessie Kay paused with her fork midway to her mouth. She peered at Brook Lynn with wide blue eyes underscored by dismay. “You...and Jase? My Jase.”

Her stomach twisted, a single word screaming through her head. Mine! She bit her bottom lip, nodded. “Do you love him? Please, please tell me you don’t love him. Because we kissed. He and I. While I was in the hospital, and then again while I was at his house. There might have been some grinding the second time. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I know you want him, too, and know you had him first, but...”

“Wait. He kissed you? As in, mouth to mouth?”

Her brow furrowed with confusion as she said, “Yes...”

Bemusement and sadness warred on her sister’s face. “He slept with me, but he didn’t kiss me. Not on the mouth.”

“No, stop,” Brook Lynn said, slapping a hand over the mouth in question. “I don’t want to hear this.”

Jessie Kay pried her fingers loose. “I thought it was a Pretty Woman thing, that he didn’t think he was good enough to give alms at the door of my temple.” Her shoulders slumped. “Dude. He didn’t think I was good enough for him.”

This. This was what Brook Lynn had hoped to avoid. “He’s clearly a moron.”

“And yet you still want him.”

“I have bad taste.”

Her sister rolled her eyes.

“You are good enough for him. You just aren’t right for him. There’s a difference.”

“True, but somehow I’m never the right one for the guys I sleep with. But that’s my problem, not yours.” Jessie Kay pegged her with a hard stare. “Are you sure Jase is the one for you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess you need to know what to expect. Being with him was—”

“No! Don’t say it.”

“—weird,” Jessie Kay finished, and Brook Lynn frowned.

“Weird?” Not pure ecstasy? “What do you mean? You appeared so satisfied afterward.”

“Oh, I was. But anytime I touched him, he stiffened, and not in a good way. He constantly looked over his shoulder, as if he expected someone to sneak up on us. After a while, I just had to lie back and let him do all the work. You know, every girl’s dream.”

He’d stiffened? Looked over his shoulder? She thought back, but couldn’t remember if he’d done either of those things while they were in bed together. She’d been too overwhelmed with pleasure.

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“He won’t commit afterward,” Jessie Kay said. “You told me so yourself.”

“I know that,” she said with a sigh.

“But you’re going to sleep with him anyway, aren’t you?” Jessie Kay leaned back and crossed her arms. “Even though you’ve denied every other guy you’ve ever dated.”

“I haven’t denied every one.”

“Your short-lived romance with Conner doesn’t count.”

Conner, the boy who used to live next door. He’d moved away for college, met the love of his life and had never come home. “Why doesn’t it count?”

“He only ever lasted a minute. Two, tops. And yes, I heard you guys. Well, I heard him. You were as quiet as a mouse.” Her head tilted to the side. “I wonder if Jase will be able to make you scream.”

A white-hot burn in her cheeks. She already knew the answer to that.

Conner had been kind and sweet, but Brook Lynn had never reacted to him the way she’d reacted to Jase. All in, nothing held back. Attuned to his every nuance.

“I want Jase no matter what,” she said, realizing it was true. Even if he ended things after one night. With him, she would take what she could get. “Are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me.”

Jessie Kay leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “If I was mad, my nails would be scratching out your eyes. You know this. Besides, I guess a part of me saw this coming. The way you talk about him. The way he looks at you. The things he does for you. But for once in my life I have to be a voice of reason. I don’t think this is a good idea, Brook Lynn. He’s going to hurt you, and then I’ll have to kill him dead.”

Maybe he’d hurt her. Probably.

Okay, definitely for sure—there was a chance. She couldn’t bring herself to commit to the idea that she’d fail to win him. “I’ve been saying the same thing to you for years, and it’s never stopped you.”

Jessie Kay arched a brow at her. “Look at you. Doing the whole role-reversal thing. It—and you—suck seriously hairy balls right now, but okay. If you want him, he’s yours. I just hope you don’t end up regretting it.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE NEXT MORNING, Brook Lynn called and canceled her date with Brad—the one she still hadn’t put in the books. He was hurt, and she hated herself. He asked what happened, what changed her mind, and she had to go with the truth and admit she had feelings for another man. She then texted Jase to tell him she had errands and would be running late. His response came seconds later.

Feel free 2 take the entire day off.

Those freeze-out walls really needed work, didn’t they?

Her response: Nah. My errands R 4 YOU, bossman.

A minute passed, then another.

What kind of errands?

Grinning, she stuffed her phone into her pocket. He’d find out when she was good and ready and not a moment before. Until then, he could stew.

Excited, nervous, she left the serenity of redbuds and strawberry vines behind to drive into the city, where she bought a fancy frame and a bundle of heavy paper, as well as time on a computer. As she typed, she constantly glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was reading what was on the screen.

When she finished her project, she had it printed on the paper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment—and they stayed hot the entire drive to Jase’s house.

Didn’t help that he was on the front porch when she arrived, shirtless and sweaty. The moisture in her mouth dried.

What if he viewed her gift as an attempt at manipulation rather than a way to ease his fears? What if he was right?

Just need a chance with him. This was the only way.

As she traversed the porch steps, he crossed his arms over his muscle-ripped chest. With the farmhouse behind him, framing him, she felt as if she’d just been transported into the pages of a Hunks of Small Town, USA calendar. A place she wanted to live forever.

“You mentioned errands for me,” he said, and she would have sworn she heard excitement underneath his irritation. “You finally get me those ex-large condoms?”

“Nope.” Don’t grin. “First, it’s time for today’s affirmation. You ready? Here goes. I need not suffer in silence while I possess the ability to moan, whimper and complain.”

He went still, not seeming to breathe. “Are you suffering?”

“In a way.” She closed the distance and held out the plaque she’d made. “Here. This is for you.”

He backed away from her, saying, “If this is a resignation letter...”

After all the times he’d fired her, he would complain if she quit? “Do us both a favor and read it.”

He took the thing reluctantly and looked it over, his frown vanishing. His eyes flipped up to her, flames sparking to life deep, deep inside their emerald depths. She shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“Well?” she asked and gulped.

“‘I, Brook Lynn Dillon,’” he read, the tenor of his voice husky and rough, “‘hereby promise Jase I’m Not Sure What His Middle Name Is Hollister one night. Only one. Afterward there will be no tears, no clinging and no romantic gestures of any kind. I will be an employee of Hollister Slave Trade, nothing more.’”

“I even signed it,” she said—with what had felt like blood.

“I see that,” he replied.

When he said nothing more, she once again shifted uncomfortably. “Well?”