Everybody Falls (26 page)

His abs were flexing then releasing as he thrusted, pounded himself into me.

Jack ended it as he had each time we'd been together.

"I love you, Lacey," he growled from that deep place inside him as he shoved himself ball deep and stayed there.

It was absolutely, bar-none, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life.

This was our round two of the evening which had been even better than round one, mainly because we were starting to be less shy, more vocal, seemingly more comfortable with one another. Especially when naked.

While Jack never seemed to have a problem with his nudity, I was still trying not to be so shy. Not to feel like if this part is uncovered then that part needed to have the sheet draped over it, or if my top was off, then my panties needed to be on and vice versa. I think mainly I was getting over it after the shower sex of that morning.

Just remembering it gave me a shiver.

"Cold, Tiger?" He asked from his place behind me, where he'd fallen to catch his breath after he'd climaxed.

"No, honey," I murmured as I turned my head towards him and scooted to where he was. I laid my head in 'my' spot on his shoulder, basically draping myself over him. "Just thinking about this morning. In the shower."

He turned his head. I got a shimmering look plus a hot, full-on smile.

"Thought we were going to have to forgo it when we didn't have condoms," he admitted. "I didn't relish the idea of being in pain all day since I already had blue-balls from sleeping next to you. Christ, Lace, you're sexy even when you're fucking sleeping."

I tilted my head to look up at him. He was easy to see since he'd turned on practically every light in his room except the one in the ceiling.

My Jack liked lights on for our naked parties.

We'd awakened that morning with our limbs entwined, sheets tangled and began by kissing. Jack's way of kissing, the way he liked to start slow before moving onto the deep, wild, wet way, was the start of a chain reaction. A reaction that included hands touching every square inch of skin available, then on to skin that wasn't so readily available until tab 'A' was poised at slot 'B' until he'd groaned and rolled off me.

"Fucking hell, Lace," he'd complained on a deep rumble as he'd draped an arm over his face.

"What?" I asked with a note of disappointment in my voice. Stopping like that, right before things were going to get really, really good, could harm a girl, you know?

"No goddamn condoms," he explained slowly.

Oh, yeah. Condoms.

I hadn't thought to bring them, mainly because I had only planned to be out at the farm for a couple of hours or so. Plus, I've never been a girl that tucks them into her purse or back pocket with the thought of 'just in case'. That wasn't who I was nor had it ever been.

Up until Jack, I still hadn't figured out what all the hullabaloo was about regarding sex.

I was getting it now, though.

Oh, yeah.

Thinking that the party was over before it had a chance to go any further, I'd gotten out of bed and pulled his t-shirt, my borrowed night wear, off the floor. It had landed there when he'd yanked both it and my panties off me earlier and made my way downstairs. Just because I was in a different place, didn't mean I was going to stop my routine.

Put coffee on and then shower while it brewed.

Jack had obviously been thinking things over when I was downstairs.

Creative things.

Because he was a split second behind me when I stepped into the shower and we had another party under the wet spray, that ended in a score of two to one, my favor. I got two orgasms, once with his fingers, the other with his mouth. While he got one by me using my hands.

I'm here to say it was sublimely awesome.

I don't quite remember using soap or even making an effort of cleaning myself except, you know, down there.

I turned my head back down as I began to rub his well-built chest and ran my hand over the defined muscles of his abs. "So where'd you get the condoms tonight if you didn't have any this morning?"

I heard his chuckle from beneath my ear.

"During the meeting with the guys, I just made mention I didn't have any. That I didn't want to poke my head above ground to go get some with all the media fuckers in town. All three of them reached into their pockets, their wallets and, before I knew it, I had a hell of a nice little stash," he explained, the laughter still in his voice.

"They carry them?" I asked, shocked. I don't know why but the thought of Boots and Sarge walking around with condoms in their pockets or wallets was mind-boggling. They were old, for chocolate's sake!

"Shit, Sarge had three in his wallet and mumbled he was going to have to stop to get some more before tonight after he'd only boosted one." This was said with a sharp bark of laughter. "Turner had a full strip on him, peeled off three and, Baby, that asshole doesn't share shit with anyone."

I couldn't stop my giggles, except to tell the truth, I was embarrassed, too. Now all three of those guys would know that we were doing the nasty. Then again, I guess it would've been weird, maybe even unhealthy, if we weren't.

"I like having you here, Lace," Jack said softly before I felt him kiss my hair.

"I like being here, honey," I admitted back just as soft. "But, I don't see what those photographers could do that would be so scary if I was at home."

There was quiet while he was thought before he spoke.

"Someone took a knife to your tires, Tiger," he advised. "All four tires were ripped to shreds according to Sarge. He said that someone had tried to jimmy the backdoor to the bakery, too."

I let that sink in and as I did, I felt him turn so we were face to face on our sides.

"Baby, that's fucking vandalism. It’s the least of what some paps will do to get info. They get paid for their snaps, for any fucking info they can snag on whomever they've been told to follow. They'll go through your trash, use telephoto lens to capture you in the cracks of your drapes, fucking keep you trapped until you talk about whatever they want to know," he explained, serious now. "I've lived it. Lived it for years. Its fucking scary even when you're used to it."

He kissed me slow and tenderly.

"I don't want you to fucking go through that. Ever," he continued, his midnight velvet voice firm. "I don't want you or Grams to have any of that fucked up, whacked out shit that came with me because of my old life. Understand?"

"Yeah, honey. I understand," I replied back, humbled by the protective note in his voice. "Speaking of…we need to talk about Grams."

He pulled back and I saw one eyebrow raise.

"This may not be my place, or even any of my business, however I think she needs a bedroom downstairs. I noticed the steps are a problem for her, with her knees plus whatever else she's got going on," I explained, remembering watching as Edie tried to climb the stairs to go to bed earlier. I'd gotten sympathy pains in my own legs when I saw her practically pulling herself up the banister and had ran to help her.

"Which room?" he asked gently, thoughtfully rolling on to his back.

"I was thinking the dining room would work since the bathroom is just off it. You'd need to have some of those bar things installed in the tub maybe by the toilet, too. Other than adding a place to hang her clothes it'd be nothing but shifting furniture," I explained.

"You've given this some study," he murmured, his eyes were on the ceiling. I could practically hear the gears in his head moving.

"Yeah, honey," I murmured back, unwilling to break his train of thought. I remained quiet to give him the space, the time, to think.

"Baby? If I get the appointment, can you take her to the doctor tomorrow?" he asked finally.

"My pleasure," I answered immediately. With his face so front and center in the news there was no way he was going to be able to leave the farm for a while, and Edie shouldn't be driving if she was feeling poorly. "I need to make a grocery run anyway but I'll make that a separate trip. Can I use your truck?"

He turned his head back to me with a frown.

"That isn't my truck," he said. "All the cars belong to Grams."

"Oh," I said, wondering about his frown.

He shifted to lean over me, forcing me over onto my back as he slid his hand into mine, interlacing our fingers.

"Lacey, I don't own anything," he said firmly. "Everything here is in Grams name as it should be since she and Pops built this place up. I'm the fourth generation to live here, so I'll probably inherit everything when she passes, but it's all hers, including the cars."

I was still confused, not so much about the property, but by how fervent he was about not owning anything.

"At first I was too young to buy anything. Plus, I didn't need to. Denny made sure I got anything and everything I wanted. When I was older, he told me that nothing needed to be in my name, that the management company took care of that shit. I remember a couple of years before he bit it, I talked to him about getting my own place. He went fucking ape-shit. So, I backed off."

"Did he tell you why?" I asked quietly.

"No, Baby, he didn't." I got another gentle, soft kiss which caused a quiver to run throughout my insides.

I saw Jack plant an elbow beside my head and lean his head into his hand.

"You know what I think?"

"No, honey, what?" I responded.

"I think Denny was a goddamn control freak, at least when it came to me. Except Turner said a couple of things earlier that let me know he wasn't given much of a say in anything to do with the band either. For whatever reason, it was important to Denny that I was kept ignorant. You know, like, uninvolved, which was great when I was eighteen. No fucking responsibilities, no fucking worries. But, hell, at twenty-three? Uh-uh," he said firmly. I saw his gaze roam over me before it came back to my eyes, only now it held a hungry look.

I used my hand and stroked his hair back away from his face

"Have you ever thought about changing your look," I asked mildly. "You know, like a disguise? Maybe cut your hair or grow a mustache or something?"

He grinned. "You want to hear something funny?"

I nodded and felt my mouth turn up in a grin, too.

"I actually thought that people wouldn't fucking know me without the jewelry I used to wear," he with a chuckle. "They must have taken them out when I was in the fucking hospital after my dip in the ocean. I haven't put them back in. Shit! Maybe it was the meds they had me on. Honest to Christ, Baby, I thought people wouldn't recognize me without the metal."

"You didn't have that much that I saw," I said before I ran my thumb of his eyebrow, the side of his nose to the one side of his lip where the little holes were now laying empty.

"Compared to Sarge, I didn't," he replied and we both laughed.

It was true. Sarge liked his face piercing.

"So, are we done talking, Lace?" he growled. "Because I want to use my mouth but I can't taste the secret honey of my favorite baker and talk at the same time."

The melting point of chocolate is one hundred thirteen degrees, Fahrenheit.

Mine, I'd discovered, is much, much lower.

*.*.*.*.*

Jax felt Lacey as she rolled off of him onto her other side, her breathing heavy as she slept. He was tired, yet not yet sleepy.

Today had been a good day in spite of the craziness it contained.

They were putting together another band to bail Turner out of a fix. Jax was willing to go along with it except only up to a certain point. He didn't want to play any WV tunes, he was dead-set against touring because he, sure as shit, wasn't going get caught up in that fucking lifestyle again for any reason.

No way, no how.

The other guys were great, understanding where he was coming from. Well, all except Turner. Fucking Turner still had his head up his ass; wanted it all back. The broads, the screams and the country by country, city by city, play.

That is, until Ricki fainted at his feet.

How weird was that? A whacky girl falls at his feet then the fucker loses his heart just like that.

Wait.

Isn't that exactly what happened to him with Lace? He'd fallen in the street and then had fallen completely in love with her by the time she'd finished cleaning him up.

Guess he had no room to talk, then.

Grams in the dining room made sense. He was glad Lacey suggested it. The old woman needed to be comfortable and he was too afraid that time maybe getting short for her. Especially if what he'd read online was true when he'd been investigating her pills.

Maybe he could get the other men from today to help with moving everything around. Jax made a mental note to give Sarge a call in the morning.

Funny how the old guy had become a good friend in the short time Jax had known him. Stepping up for Turner? Shit. That was a fucking miracle.

Lacey
, he thought, feeling his heart do a double-thump.

His woman.