Page 24 of Fixed Asset

His eyes roamed my face. Some of the unease in his expression faded, but the knot in my stomach was getting tighter.

“I’ve never not worn protection,” he told me and frowned.

Was he mad . . . at me?

I turned my head, freeing my lips, and asked, “And that’s my fault?”

Lightning quick, his hand went from my cheek to the back of my neck. He yanked me closer, while at the same time he dipped his head.

“It’s my fault. I lost control. I was so caught up, wanted inside you so badly, I forgot.”

Why did that make me giddy? It was totally irresponsible, yet I didn’t care. The thought of little ol’ me making big, bad, tough Jack Donovan lose control and forget a condom filled me with womanly pride.

“I see you like that,” he noted.

I shrugged, fully coming back to my smart-ass self.

“We’ll see how much you like it when I’m leaking out of you while you’re kitted up, waiting for orders.” Jack’s lips twitched, and he finished with, “Though, I know I’m gonna like that part.”

My eyes narrowed. However, I couldn’t fully commit to the glare.

“Is that an alpha-male thing?”

“No, baby, it’s a Jack thing.”

I didn’t have a comeback for that, so I remained quiet. So did Jack. His eyes no longer held any apprehension, nor were they glittery with lust. They now held something new, a warmth and tenderness I’d never seen—not from him, not from anyone in my life. Except maybe my mom and gran, though their warmth was different, a familial bond. Jack’s was tinged with intimacy.

“I could get lost in you,” he whispered. “You’re so damn gorgeous, if I forget to brace, you steal my breath.” He dropped his forehead to mine, and he quietly admitted, “It’s been torture. Nine months of hell staying away from you.”

My heart hammered in my chest as it swelled. The pain of watching him walk away from me in Vegas evaporated, the agony of losing him receding. Hope and happiness warred for the top spot.

Before I could respond, there was another knock on the door.

“Two-minute warning,” Mason called out.

The moment shattered.

Jack lifted his head, stared down at me, eyes conflicted. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I can—”

“You can, but I’m gonna do it.”

All righty, then.

Jack stepped away, turned, and reached into the shower, giving me my first look at his bare ass. And good Lord, was it fine. I was still taking it in when he turned back around. I’d had the pleasure of feeling that thick, long dick, but seeing it made my mouth go dry. I licked my lips. Jack groaned. I continued to stare until I lost sight of his dick, and his chest filled my vision instead when he stepped back between my legs, reached to the side, and turned on the faucet.

Ass, dick, chest—his body was a wonderland of visual delights. I could spend hours perusing the ridges and valleys, the dips and hard plains of muscle.

The feel of a warm, wet cloth between my legs pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up to find Jack watching himself gently cleaning the evidence of his orgasm from me. When he was done, he pressed the cloth over my pussy, cupping me there, and lifted his eyes to meet mine.

Watching him cleaning me was wildly erotic in a profound way—an intimacy that went beyond private and personal. In that moment, I knew whatever happened between me and Jack, I would never in my life share something so special with another man. This was Jack’s, only his, and nothing could or would compare.

“Ready, baby?”

No. I never wanted to leave this cocoon of warmth he’d created. I didn’t want anything to invade or threaten to take him away from me. And sadly, deep down, I knew once the real world came crashing back in, he’d remember I was who I was, and his frustration and anger would steal him from me.

“Yeah.”