Keeping You: KJ Elite Inc. (24 page)

Caught in my own self-doubt, memories of the past beating at my self-worth, Noah breaks me free. His fingers delicately caress my face from temple to chin.

“Come back to me, sugar. Right here. There you are, baby.” His quiet words a balm on my nerves, pulling me back to earth.

“Why?”

Jeez, talk about an open ended question; even I don’t know what I’m looking for.

Noah continues stroking my face with his calloused fingers

“Sug, there are so many reasons, I don’t know where to start.”

He pulls me into his chest wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, adjusting his footing; he’s obviously expecting to stand here a while.

His small gesture shows his patience and tickles me in the chest. Noah Kane is more than everyone thinks he is.

“I need you to make me a promise.”

I just stare at him, waiting.

“Never doubt that you’re good enough for me, because I can assure you to my very last breath, I am not worthy of you. I don’t even deserve to stand in the same room as you.”

Is he drunk?

Blind?

Both?

“Promise me that you’ll never question it again.”

I can’t. Why can’t he see how wrong he is?

I shake my head so slightly, I’m not sure he can even see it. But this is Noah I’m talking to – he sees and hears everything.

Noah just tsks and shakes his head back at me.

“Say it, sugar. Promise me.”

I’ve never made a promise I couldn’t keep. For one, I’ve had too many broken promises before and two, all those broken promises just taught me that man is only as good as his word. If we have nothing else, we have our word and if we give it freely, without care of the consequences, we truly have nothing. So, I’ve never made a promise I couldn’t keep and I don’t plan on starting now.

He is adamant, but doesn’t push. Instead, he kisses my forehead and tells me that we
will
come back to this subject after the other things we need to discuss.

“Why do they call you Happy?”

I’ve heard it more than once and at first I didn’t think much of it but after it kept coming up, I figured it was his nickname.

Noah moves to sit beside me before massaging the back of his neck and taking a deep breath.

“Abbreviated version is because even when all the nasty shit surrounds us, I smile and don’t let anyone see how much it all gets to me. Even when I pull the trigger, I’m smiling. Just remember these words though, Jamie. You’re a got damn Queen and I’ll see to it every single day that God keeps me around, to make sure you know it, too. Not only that but – and this may be most important – you are mine, sugar. Forever, it’s us.”

His intensity blankets me, riding through my body and claiming my soul. 

I feel him to my bones and deeper; I need him like my next breath which begs the question – does he feel the same?

“And you’re mine?” No matter what tone I try to use, it doesn’t come out as a question. I’m owning him as equally as he’s just done me. In his eyes we have already settled this. We’ve already established there’s no one else for us but to me, I’m waiting for him to back out.

“It’s about time you’ve recognized it, darlin’.” His eyes sparkle and his mouth tilts to the right in a half grin.

The little pet names he call me really do something silly to me.

“I know this is new to you, but I’ve had a lot longer to think about it, and Jamie Wright, you’ve held my heart since the first time I ever saw your picture, months ago. I’ve gotten to know you through Tay and Matt, and studying files we compiled on you for hours on end; I know you better than I know myself. You are mine and it’ll take the Devil his damn self to ascend from the fiery pits of Hell, accompanied by his hell hounds and greatest generals, to rip us apart.

And he’ll have to bring it sugar, because I ain’t going without a fight now that I’ve got something worth fighting for.”

Noah’s declaration is missing only three little words that mean a whole lot. I need to hear them, but I know he won’t say them until I am ready to return them. We both know I feel the same way, but I’m just not ready so he doesn’t put me in that position. I’m already vulnerable enough. Not a single moment goes by that he isn’t on my mind so darn if I know why, but I’m just not ready to say it.

Sometimes it shocks me how in tune he is with my inner workings and emotions. Noah never pushes me too far or too hard, he knows my limits and sometimes I think he’s an empath or a mind reader because he just knows it all. Always.

“I’m going to lay you down and make love to you, Jamie Wright.”

He doesn’t ask and that’s probably because we both know the answer wouldn’t be anything other than “heck yes.”

Slowly and with absolute care, Noah lays me back on the bed, closing us in to our private escape. He settles himself between my legs taking in my whole body, now robeless, like I’m a fine treasure he’s only dreamed of. I ought to feel nervous or self-conscious but I can’t bring myself to it. With his eyes devouring me I feel beautiful, stunning, cherished and mostly, coveted.

“Sugar” is all he says, now running his hands up my thighs, lightly. It’s more a whisper, his voice husky, thick with lust.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath as his touch and scent overrun my senses.

“So fucking perfect.” He whispers in my ear before kissing that magical spot.

A small throaty moan slides over my parted lips, drawing him in further.

Not pausing to talk, Noah blankets me in kisses from the crown of my head all the way down to my toes, only stopping to check my face for clues on my mood. Which is silly considering the fact that I was already panting and writhing, begging for more before he reached my breasts. Once he reached my toes, he sat back to massage my feet with skill far beyond that of a mere mortal.

I’ve paid thousands for a massage before – call me what you want, but what else did I have to do with it? – And none have ever even skimmed the amount of pleasure this man is giving me with his own expert hands.

“Oh, God!” burst from my mouth involuntarily but I don’t have the energy to slap a hand over my mouth or the good grace to be embarrassed.

“Please, just Noah.” He winked at me when I plied one eye open to look down at his too good looking face.

One minute he was rubbing my feet, the next his tongue and teeth and lips are carving a path back up to my center.

I begin whimpering and pressing into his face as he gets closer and closer, before he finally licks me.

“So sweet.” He says, lapping at me, his fingers twisting my clit and one nipple, simultaneously. Pleasure is blinding me.

Not that I want to think about it but he’s seriously got some experience under his belt. Damnit.

I can no longer control the noises I’m making as my release grows nearer, greater.

Nearly hoarse, I chant “Noah” over and over.

He remains devouring me as I ride the final waves of my own orgasm, humming his appreciation. In the same delicate manner, he climbs back up my body to capture my lips. My juices coat his lips and chin; I taste myself on his tongue as he me deeper than ever. Deep like he can’t get deep enough. We tear apart from each other, gasping, as desperate for air as we are for one another.

True to his word, Noah made sweet, unhurried love to me. With me. There was no rush to orgasm though there was still such passion and fervor in the act – a need to relay that we were connected. We were one and we were undoubtedly making tender love. It was no slow screwing.

By the time we collapsed together, we were one heaving twist of body parts. Noah clung tight to me, his breath skittering across my shoulder blade in uneven spurts, like a flat rock atop a lake surface.

“You’re definitely going to kill me.” He panted.

As unhurried as we were, we had certainly worked up a sweat. Maybe it was the small, enclosed space or the burning passion. Or both. I wasn’t complaining.

“If this is how we go out, I don’t think either of us have any reason to protest.”

As if to answer me, Noah lifted his head to face me and opened his mouth, but leaned in to kiss my forehead instead.

Which totally threw me. After the intensely intimate moment we just shared, he kissed my forehead in a move that more said sister than soul-mate or lover. To me, at least.

If I was braver, I’d call him out on it or grab his face and take his lips, but, I am just me. Jamie Wright wasn’t assertive with men. Heck, Jamie Wright wasn’t social with men period.

Wasn’t.

The old Jamie Wright. The tortured, torn and tattered Jamie.

Well, forget that shell.

Releasing his hand, I reached up and slid my palm to cup his neck. Pulling with a force rivaling that of a tow truck, I smashed his lips to mine.

For the slightest of moments, Noah hesitated before rocking into me, tangling our tongues together and growling. The little girl inside me, forced to grow far too soon, cheered at the return of my fight; my backbone.

No more will anyone treat me like a doormat.

Bringing me back to the present, a knock sounded at the door, making him pause. His whole lower body stiffened and he reached behind the headboard for a hidden gun. With his lips practically
in
my ear, he whispered, “Go.”

Clearly he believed that whoever was out there was not friendly. With good reason, too. This family didn’t really know boundaries or practice the art of knocking. Backbone or not, I will not ever argue when it comes to Noah protecting me.

From Lord only knows where, he produced a thin silk robe unlike the thick fluffy one I was covered in hours prior. I took it and ran to the closet, throwing it around my shoulders on the way.

I didn’t look back to see where he was or what he was doing so it took me by surprise when he slid into the closet behind me, quietly but quickly hitting the locks. He punched his fist on a red button I had never noticed before – rightfully so as it was hidden behind hanging clothes.

A heavy vault looking type of door came down from the ceiling, spanning the length of the wall, covering the door and effectively trapping us in. The sound of it locking into place was similar to that of a medieval castle’s draw bridge rattling.

In the center of the wall-door-thingy, sat 6 screens about the size of a tablet – 13 inches or so. They flickered on showing 5 different views of the house: the front door, back door, living room and kitchen, the hallway upstairs (though primarily focused on the master bedroom’s door) and our bedroom. The sixth screen was of what I can only assume is Luke’s office area at the compound.

Affirming my assumption, Luke rushed into the picture as a loud bang resounded in the bedroom and smoke filled the room on the small screen.

“Who hit the al-uh…” Luke’s jaw hung slack as he watched with us.

Lights strobed in his background indicating an alarm was going off. Our safe room was clearly sealed air-tight because no smoke seeped in.

Three black clad figures entered the room, backs hunched, and weapons drawn. I took two steps back, clutching the robe to my chest. Noah reached out and pulled me to him.

“They
cannot
breach this room. Even if they had hours and knew what they were dealing with. Don’t worry, sugar.”

I wanted to believe him. Despite the size of the room though, having the seal close in such a way was making me itchy and wary of a panic attack from the claustrophobia.

The three figures cleared the room, tearing it apart in the process. Once thoroughly demolished they stood in a triangular pattern with one guy in front, the other two behind him, side by side.

Their leader, I’d guess, pulled his creepy white skull print ski mask off, revealing an entirely too handsome face. Unfortunately, good looks did not always a good guy make. His hair was cut so p0full, luscious lips that slid back in an effortless grin to reveal aligned pearly whites.

Why and how are there so gosh darn many good looking people in this line of work? Scouts are definitely looking in the wrong places.

The sexy menace looked square into the camera lens before saying, “I know you’re in there Kane. You never could resist a pretty damsel in distress.”

He chuckled but Noah did not respond verbally or even physically. Still as a statue, his heart rate even, holding me. The thug in the rear to the left had been looking around, appraising the damage they’ve caused. He shifted his feet and then kicked out the legs of the small table holding Noah’s little fish and turtles.

“Monster!” I yelled, slapping the door.

The water sloshed over the lid of the glass bowl before it collided with the exposed wooden floor and wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. Fish flopped onto the ground and the little turtles pulled into their shells for safe hiding. Rocks glittered like jewels, sliding in all different directions loudly.

The head thug turned his whole body to the side and put his hands on his hips.

“Really? You got somethin’ against goldfish? Were they giving you the stink eye, making sure they could pick you out in a lineup?”