Page 28 of Jameson’s Salvation

“No, Kennedy, I do not remember.” He was stalking toward me and I felt it imperative to step back. Only I couldn’t take more than a few paces before my back was to the wall. Well, fuck me running, I was trapped and Jameson was still advancing.

He didn’t stop a respectable distance; he invaded my space and rested his hand on the wall next to my head, caging me in. My heart rate spiked and I fought the urge to either punch him or kiss him. I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to do more, but both emotions were swirling around battling for supremacy.

“What I remember is hearing you scream, taking your stairs two at a time, rushing into your bathroom, being treated to the sexiest fucking view I’d ever seen before you ripped the towel loose and I lost sight of your tits. Then I remember washing the soap out of your eyes and getting to openly study your pretty face without you knowing. Then I remember insanity taking over and the need to see if your skin was as soft as I’d dreamt it would be. So I touched you to find it was softer. Then I distinctly remember feeling how hard your nipple was under that towel and I desperately wanted to take you to your bed and do a variety of filthy things to you. Nowhere in my memory of that day—and, babe, it is seared into my brain—do I remember you telling me your water heater was broken. And my head may’ve been full of images of you taking my dick, but I would’ve remembered that.”

Did he? Did he seriously just say that? I’d never heard anyone talk like that.

“Kennedy?”

I didn’t know how to respond. I knew how my body was responding—the wetness between my legs couldn’t be ignored—but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.

“You never came back,” I accused.

“I told you I wouldn’t.”

“No, you didn’t.”

I remembered everything he said to me and he never informed me I wouldn’t see or hear from him again.

“I told you I was protecting you.”

Now I was super-pissed. I didn’t need protecting, nor did I want it.

“Protecting me, or protecting yourself?”

“You don’t know me to say that.”

“Oh, but you know me well enough to say I need to be protected from you? I’m not the one that says I hate everyone and everything. That’s you.”

“Someone like you, whose head is full of sunshine and rainbows, couldn’t handle a man like me. So yes, I’m protecting you from me.”

“You’re a tad arrogant, don’t you think? Who said I wanted to handle you?”

Jameson’s face lowered and a cruel smile pulled at his lips. “Don’t try and lie to me, Kennedy. We both know I could have your ass up on my desk, your legs spread wide, and you screaming in the next five seconds.”

The nerve of this asshole.

“And that makes me what? Easy? A slut? Because I’m a woman, it’s different for me? So what I think you’re hot and I haven’t had sex in a long time and I think you’d be good at it. So how about we say, you’re scared because you know I could sit my ass on your desk, and without much effort get you to fuck me. And maybe you’d like it enough to want to call the next day. Then what? Your ‘I hate everyone’ façade would crack? So again, how about all I want from you is a few good orgasms and for you not to call? Did you think of that, Big Guy, or were you too busy thinking I was some stupid naïve girl who doesn’t know that sex and relationships aren’t the same thing?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Right. My head is just full of sunshine and rainbows. Which may be the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me. I do not need anyone to protect me.”

“You have no idea the type of man I am, what I’ve done, or what I’ve seen. There’s a good reason I am the way I am.”

“And you don’t know the type of woman I am or what I’ve seen. And there may be a reason but I doubt it’s a good one.”

“You can’t imagine.”

“I can’t?” I spit out and lost all control on my mouth. We were nose to nose and I was red-hot pissed at his audacity. “I think I can. I’m the woman who witnessed my father being murdered when I was seventeen.” Jameson’s body jerked back and his hand fell from the wall. “I’m the woman who picked my mother up when she had a nervous breakdown. I’m the woman that worked and supported my mother until she could get back on her feet. I’m the woman who tried to keep my dad’s land so we wouldn’t lose what we had left of him. I’m—”

“Kennedy, stop.”

“No. You think you know me. You don’t. You don’t have the first goddamn clue. I’ve worked my ass off for what little I have. I’ve been fucked over. I’ve been cheated on. I’ve lost more than I should’ve before I hit twenty. And even with all of that, I walk around with a smile on my face and still give those around me the benefit of the doubt. Because the alternative is I turn into a cynical, hateful bitch. And I don’t want to be that woman. So I don’t walk around thinking the world is sunshine and roses. I walk around knowing that someone killed my dad in front of me but I am strong enough to pull my shit together and be a good person.”

“Babe.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Jameson. Yes, I thought you were hot. Yes, I would’ve made it easy for you to get me into bed. No, I wouldn’t’ve expected anything after. And if you had been as good as you said you were, I would’ve welcomed you back for seconds and still not expected anything. But you’re a presumptuous asshole. And that’s something I can’t look past.”