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Chapter Forty-Eight
Lena
Iunderstood what Jackson meant, though I was having trouble accepting it. A huge part of me still felt that vulnerability. The insecurity weaved its way through my brain cells, toxic and demoralizing. I looked at my hands, now tainted with murder. Murder of a sick man, but still, I killed him. The police were very accepting and understanding of what happened. Having Brodie as my witness helped tremendously, and I wouldn’t be facing any charges, none with the law, that is. But, I still had some demons to fight off and the nightmares that came with them.
“I hate what I did, killing Troy,” I admitted finally. “I hate Troy even more for making me do it, but at the same time, I’m glad I was able to save you in the process.”
I looked down at Jackson’s hands that held mine, only because I wasn’t sure I could look at his face without tears. Even though the police weren’t charging me with murder … God, would I ever be over the guilt of taking another human being’s life? I knew I was to blame for everything. I’d let that relationship with Troy happen. I was the one who had to take the blame for it. Troy had been a sick man. Deep down, I knew that, but I wished I could have helped him receive some sort of treatment for his illness. And I also knew that men like Troy existed in many homes, and many women like me. Some still in trouble. Some, the lucky ones like me, got out.
“You have to forgive yourself, Lena. In order to move on, you have to. You’re the only one holding any of this against you. You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. Sometimes it’s harder to forgive yourself and let go, but you have to try.”
I braved a look and studied Jackson now. I knew I didn’t need to say these words to him. I knew he understood. I don’t know how, but he did. I wasn’t saying them for him, though. “I will never let another man do to me what Troy did.”
“That’s my girl.” He took my hands in his and gently squeezed them.
I smiled at the “my girl” reference. I liked being Jackson’s girl, knowing he’d never keep me from my dreams. Hell, his were almost identical to mine.
He skimmed his finger down my bare arm. The tickling sensation made me smile. Troy had never touched me that way, not even in the beginning. Oh, he wasn’t violent at first, but that was a time in the past, a time when I didn’t know tender.
“I still have some fears, and I know I need to overcome them.”
“I can help with that.” His smile was soft, reassuring, and oh so damn sexy.
There was one particular fear that I wanted to tackle, and I didn’t want to approach it like a timid, wounded rabbit. I hesitated at first, not sure how Jackson would respond. I’d never been able to play the sexy vixen with Troy. Playing a role like that would have sent him into a jealous rage of swearing and accusations that I’d been with someone else. Accusing me of liking rough sex, and he’d be sure to show me his way of what rough meant.
No, I didn’t need that kind of rough sex.
But I did want some intensity. The kind I’d only been able to read about in books. The comfort I received from Jackson gave me the courage to move in, take what I wanted.
I took a step closer to him. His shirt unbuttoned, hung loosely over his pants. I made tiny circles on his chest with my finger, and he slipped his arm around my waist. Even though being possessed the way I thought I would like frightened me, I wanted it more than anything with Jackson. Deep in my mind, I knew it was a different kind of possession, and he wouldn’t hurt me. I’d seen movies, read books … I could do this.
I kept my voice low and as sexy as I thought possible. “Well, you know, I have this fear of being overpowered by a man.” I bit my bottom lip and waited for his response.
“Yes, I know.” His voice had the right amount of sexy smoothness to make me almost forget what I was doing or what I wanted to do.
I continued skimming my fingertips lightly over his chest. “Particularly in …” I looked around the room we stood in, “… in the bedroom.”
“Like I said, I can help with that.”
“I think I’d like that.” I gently nipped at his chin.
“I’ve heard that the best way to tackle your fears is to experience them first hand. Throw yourself into them, so to speak.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
He took a step closer to me, then another, pinning me between him and the wall. Our bodies pressed firmly together, and he kept his face an inch above mine. With his finger, he tilted my chin up and covered my mouth with his. He didn’t hurt me, but I gasped into his mouth as he kissed me, hard and demanding.
His hand fisted in my hair, my blonde locks, and I had a fleeting thought that maybe I should return them to their dark auburn color, but just as quickly as that idea entered my head, it disappeared with the taste of Jackson’s tongue exploring my mouth, removing everything but him from my mind.
His hand slid down my side and back up my skirt. His fingers tugged at my panties, yanking them down to my knees. As Jackson moved his thumb around in little circles, he slipped a couple of fingers inside me. I had to close my eyes as the sensation took hold. Thunder roared in my head, and he kissed the spot under my ear, sucking a little before spreading more kisses down my neck toward the scoop of my dress, where a hint of cleavage peaked out. His fingers skimmed down my thigh, and wetness coated my skin. I smiled, a little bit of me proclaiming my independence as my body accepted the freedom of this new person I was becoming.
