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“So you called the FBI?”
“No, Scarlett suggested we bring the issue to Logan. He had a buddy in the FBI.”
Violet bent down and picked up her dress. As she straightened she thought she heard a strange noise emanating from JT’s throat, but when she glanced his way, nothing revealed itself on his face, although his erection had surged higher.
“He called me a few days ago.” JT’s voice was tight and husky. “I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.”
“I thought you should know what we intended to do and would take it better from him.”
“I was so damned mad at you.”
Violet flinched at the intensity of his tone. “I know.”
Needing a moment to regroup, she turned and walked to a nearby chair, putting her clothes on it. She felt more than heard JT come up behind her, and when he spoke next, he was mere feet away.
“You had a file on me. I felt betrayed.”
“I know,” she repeated without turning around. Rehashing their fight would not move them past her poor judgment or his interpretation of what she’d done. “I was a little surprised the FBI moved as fast as they did. I thought for certain they would investigate longer.” When his hands gripped her shoulders, there was tension in his fingers. Alarmed, Violet hurried to explain her motivation. “I know he’s your father, but he certainly had no right to be in charge of your family’s business.”
“I don’t need rescuing.” JT repeated his earlier declaration and turned her to face him. “Not by you. Not by anyone.”
Her temper flared. “That’s your whole problem,” she said, hitting him with all her pent-up frustration. “You think you’re doing fine on your own, that this isolated little world you’ve built for yourself can keep your heart safe.” She put both hands on his chest and shoved hard. He stumbled back a step, his expression reflecting surprise at her fierceness, and she stalked after him. “Well, you’re wrong.” She wagged her finger a scant inch from his nose and he retreated a few more steps. “You need me.” She prowled after him, all her heartache and worry rising to a boiling point. “Admit it. Damn you. Admit it.”
JT stopped retreating and stood staring down at her face. His fingertips brushed her cheek and came away damp. Violet didn’t even realize she was crying.
“I don’t just need you,” JT said, bending down and lifting her onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
He dumped her on the bed and pounced on her. Violet gasped; his rough handling had disrupted the efficient working of her lungs. Or maybe she couldn’t breathe because of the way he was staring at her: as if she was the most amazing sight he’d ever seen.
“I don’t just need you,” JT repeated, his tone tender. “I can’t live without you. And I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I never have to.”
And then he was kissing her passionately, reverently, without holding back any emotion. Violet’s joy knew no bounds as she realized that he’d stopped running from her. He might not have let go of the pain that kept him isolated, but he was ready to let her help him heal.
Her tongue met every greedy thrust of his, devouring just as fervently as she was devoured. With her fingers fisted in his hair, she threw back her head and moaned as his teeth nipped at her throat and he investigated the level of her arousal. Her hips bucked as he slid one finger inside her, then two.
Heat built beneath her skin as his mouth latched onto one of her nipples. The firm tug sent a spear of longing straight down to her core. She twisted beneath him, pinned to the mattress by his weight, but managing to communicate her hunger.
“Now,” she commanded breathlessly. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He used his knees to spread her thighs wide, opening her for his possession. “It’s been hell for me as well.”
