Something Worth Saving (36 page)

“What?” My eyes went wide. “What are you going to do?”

“You have to think like the fire. Be it and understand it before you can ever fight one.”

“Jace, are you really talking about a fire right now?”

His eyebrow arched; it was the condescending smirk I knew so well.

“No. I’m not.”

He was talking about Ridley. The thing about Jace was that he loves deeper than anyone I’ve ever known and will fight just as hard to protect it.

Jace ground his teeth together, his eyes narrowed. “He’d better stay the fuck away from you.” Beneath that stare was a fierce possession I understood.

The night had officially turned to shit.

Slamming his beer down, Jace stood. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Home.”

I thought for sure that was the end of our night. He’d be too pissed off, and once again it would be another night without sex.

It’s not going to happen. Forget it,
I told myself.

But he surprised me.

As we walked through the door to our apartment, my eyes grew heavy and the room started to spin. Jace had sobered up — adrenaline will do that to you — but to calm my nerves I’d had another five shots that I didn’t need before we left.

Once we were in our room, he walked up behind me and freed one strap of my dress and then let the other slide away, his own eyes growing just as heavy. “Too many clothes.”

His hands swept over my body the way flames engulfed a room.

“Remember . . . when it comes to you, I don’t stop. Ever.”

Oh, God.

Dipping down, and without saying a word, he picked me up and laid me on the bed.

With sure hands and eager breaths, his determination to make this right took over, and I wasn’t one to stop him. I wanted this right just as much as he did. We needed this, and the fact that he wasn’t going to let what happened with Ridley ruin it said loads about what the two of us had learned.

We might not have tomorrow.

Jace’s eyes settled on my body, his gaze memorizing my every feature and curve. He was remembering what he had forgotten.

Brushing my hair tenderly from my face, he kissed my forehead and then moved down my body, pushing my dress up around my thighs and then spreading them.

Oh, God.
I said it again because it was all I could say.

My panties were once again ripped off and discarded as if they meant nothing.

He wasted no time. Running his tongue down me, he pushed it inside. Before long he was pushing a few fingers inside me and licking me with just the right motions. Jace was fucking gifted when it came to licking pussy.

Fucking. Gifted.

In a very graphic description, I could tell you all kinds of things that might be gross to some and turn others on. Like the fact that I could literally feel myself dripping wetness all the way to my ass. Or that I wondered if I should have shaved. Were my pubic hairs tickling his nose?

You have to admit, it’s a justifiable question.

But there was the fact that he was doing something very intimate to me. No one else had done this to me but him. There’s just something about letting a man downstairs. It’s trust to me. I trusted him.

He owned me and knew it. With his left arm laid across my stomach, his right hand all up in me, he held me in place. It was the intemperate possessiveness that rolled from him, captivating me.

It didn’t take long, and my orgasm, my very needed, months-delayed orgasm, rocked me to the point where I was sure everyone in the apartment building knew I had just had the best experience of my life.

Not every orgasm is the Holy Grail, but when you’d been deprived as long as we had, it can be.

When I glanced up at him, his hand moved from my hair to my cheek, running his fingers down it. “That was sexy.”

I had no actual words.

“You like that?” he grunted against my thigh. Most of his weight shifted to rest against his arm, which was bent near my hip, supporting him.

“Yes . . . ”

He still kissed my body desperately as his impatient hands began working my dress over my head. Sitting up, he rested back on his heels and reached for the zipper of his jeans and smiled. I knew where this was going.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and steadied himself.

Sweeping my tongue over him, I waited for his reaction. He was so hard, so warm. Before taking him inside my mouth, I looked up at him, and he smirked.

As I lowered my mouth, I felt his tip touch the back of my throat. I wouldn’t say blow jobs (stupid name for them, by the way) were my favorite because, let’s face the facts here, he peed from there. Silently, I always had a bit of apprehension when it came to the dick-to-mouth card.

Regardless, there I was on my knees, giving head.

Jace was into it.

How could he not be?

His hands were tangled in my hair, forcing my head up and down. Though it wasn’t forceful, it was just enough pressure to let me know I wasn’t going anywhere.

His hands shook slightly, a groan falling from his slightly open mouth.

Jace Ryan was the ultimate in sexy when it came to watching a man in the heat of the moment. If there was ever a contest, he would win hands down. I was sure of that.

It’s gross, the noises your mouth makes when you’re giving a blow job. It really is. I felt like I was gagging, and I was hardly doing anything pleasurable, but apparently it was working because I heard him groan and twitch against my tongue, and evidence of his orgasm burst hot streams into my mouth.

I wanted to pull back. I think he knew that when his hand pushed me down again.

“Swallow it, Aubrey.”

“What?” If you’ve even spoken with a dick in your mouth, you’ll know that no one can understand you.

Jace never spoke this way to me.

Am I hallucinating? Is it Christian Grey taking over?

Stop thinking about that book!

“You heard me. Swallow.” I nodded, and he must have thought I wouldn’t because he hastened to add, “You’d better fucking swallow.” There were times when Jace would be dirty, controlling in bed or whatever, but it was always a little strange, given his tender side.

When I was finished, I lay back against the bed, thinking he was done.

Nope. I thought wrong.

He crawled up my body. It was fucking erotic, hot, all that. I could barely breathe. It’d been so long I couldn’t wait for it.

As he leaned over me, his hands pressed to the mattress on either side of my head. “You have me a little worked up,” he said, all breathy and sexy, sliding his body flush with mine. “This may not last long.”

He wants to go again. Fuck yes!

It was an all-consuming feeling when I realized what he wanted. He wanted more. Of me.

His lips met my skin and I was on fire, burning to the beat of his heart and shaky breath over my skin. Lazy eyes watched me, captured by my every move.

When he tried to nudge my legs apart, I pushed them together to tease him a little.

Jace raised an eyebrow at me. “Don’t make me beg,” he breathed, a low, rough whisper.

“You’re the one who said to stop . . . remember . . . after the dance?”

He settled between my legs, and his lips grazed over my bare nipples.

“If I ever tell you to stop while doing that again, knock me in the fucking head, because there’s something clearly wrong with me.” He lifted my leg, swinging it over his shoulder. “I hope you’re ready for this.”

He was right there, poised to enter, when I smiled. “Oh, I am.”

Have you ever had those moments when you thought for sure you were dying of undeniably the best pleasure of your life?

Like itching that spot on your back that itched for hours. Or chocolate after a month of dieting. Sweet, savory, goodness that left you is a state of bliss.

Oh, yeah, that was me. Right now. Right here. In bed with Jace. He moved his fingers over mine, clasping our hands together, and he lay on top of me, pushing me into the mattress.

Nothing compared to the feeling I had right now. Nothing. The weight of him as he pushed his love inside of me. “I love you like this . . . ” he panted, his eyes on mine, watching me. “Flushed and breathless for me.”

Pushing inside again, he moved, fighting his own orgasm when he saw how much I enjoyed this position. A lustful burn ran through me, my eyes closing with sensations that blinded me. Moaning, I tried to keep my eyes open but couldn’t.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded, low and deep. “I want you to see me fucking you.”

That got me. Who doesn’t like to be told what to do in bed? We’ve been over this. I apparently do. A lot.

My nails dug into his sides, while I kissed from his temple to his chin and his hands cradled the back of my head.

My body was completely frustrated, and he knew it. He always knew it. Being right there, his hand over me, playing me to the beat he set the pace to, it was driving me to the point of insanity. In an act of desperation, I arched my back, bringing him deeper inside me. He smiled, knowing what I was doing, his head falling forward slightly, but his eyes remained trained on me, suffocating me in their blue desire.

“You want it?” he asked in a rough whisper, his voice hoarse as it lingered in the air, calling to me. He took my bottom lip between his teeth before pushing forward again, a low rumbled moan trapped against my skin.

I nodded before both of us became nothing more than frantic movements. My moaning and his grunting mixed with the sound of the headboard hitting the wall. Jace’s hands fisted roughly in the pillow on either side of my head while mine dug into the muscles of his back. Both of us braced ourselves for what we knew was coming.

After just a few minutes, his movements grew jagged. He let out grunts and groans, heavy but low, but there was no question as to what was happening and I let go with him, my back arching into him.

His hands returned and fisted tightly against the pillow my head was resting on. His lips were at my neck now, trying to control his breathing, but it was coming in irregular gasps.

Chasing his need, he moved with a determination that bordered on rough, but I loved every minute of it.

His eyes were burning. His head fell forward, my sight of his eyes gone, but I saw his jaw flex as he came, the muscles in his chest and stomach clenching as the endorphins took over.

Collapsing on his chest, somewhere between my incoherent breaths, he wrapped his arms around my back. He wound his fingers into my hair, kissing me gently.

Jace made me feel a lot of things no one else ever did. Wanted. Protected, Loved. Worshipped at times. Beautiful. Strong. Sexy. Everything a woman should feel in life, he provided for me unconditionally, and at times like this, I saw it.

He cuddled against my back, his lips on the back of my neck. “I love you.”

His chest was warm against me, and was exactly what I needed. His face dropped lower, and his parted mouth met the curve of my neck. “I love you,” he said softly.

Part of me wondered how he could be so angry at the bar, and now so loving, so sure of what we had.

The other part was just enjoying this one little moment we had, because I knew tomorrow would probably be different. For now we forgave and loved unconditionally with every fiber of ourselves, the way it was supposed to be between us.

T
HE NEXT
day I had an incredibly violent vomiting attack . . . the kind of vomiting that had you limp, ready to call 911, and wishing you could just die rather than throw up again.

“Mommy, you promised to take us to the park!” Gracie pounded on the bathroom door.

Fuck their park!

I know, bad mother, but right then, I wanted nothing to do with life at all. I wondered how Jace felt — he had to work. Curious, I sent him a text, and got a two-word response.

Tired . . . horny . . .

At least I had some kind of impact on him from last night. Felt good about that. He wanted more.

Turning toward the sink, I splashed some cold water on my face, thought about just curling up on the floor, and then owned up to motherhood and took the kids to the park.

Can’t say I wasn’t hiding, with dark sunglasses and a hood over my head. Because I was.

Engine 10 to dispatch, we have the fire contained on the fourth, moving to the third.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Aubrey

T
HE WEATHER
forecast was not only freezing rain later tonight, but a heavy snowstorm was set to hit just past midnight. Once the temperature started to drop, I knew I should stay home the rest of the day.

With just a few days to go until Christmas, I spent the day shopping and getting together a few cookie recipes. I planned on taking the kids over to Brooke’s parents’ house the next day, should the roads permit, where we were going to make cookies all day. They were so excited I had to tell Gracie at least ten times what our plan was. She would say, with her hands on her hips, “Now tell me again, how many more hours?”

Little weirdo loved to bake anything. Which seemed good to me, because I couldn’t wait to have a five-year-old who could potentially cook all our meals.