Nauti Intentions

Page 45

She’d done a lot of soul searching after Zeke allowed her to see Hoyt’s journals. It had made her think of her own dreams, her own needs that she had hidden over the years, even from herself. Especially here in the past weeks spent with Alex. She had hidden from herself the knowledge of what it would do to her if she lost him.
She loved him past reason, and she knew it. Loved him enough that she knew she would never fully let go of him.
Alex sighed heavily. “Janey, he did everything he could to protect you for the better part of your life.
What makes you think Natches doesn’t want you here? That he would ever want you out of his life?”
“He doesn’t know me.” She looked up at him cautiously. “And that’s my fault. Sometimes I fear he’ll look at me and see Dayle. Or our mother. And I get scared inside that I’ll do something or say something, and he’ll see them. Or he’ll remember the beatings he took for me.” She shook her head as she moved to the table, staring down at the dark wood with a frown. “I played Daddy’s princess, and hated Dayle, and myself, for it.”
“Why did you do it?” He didn’t move closer to her; he stayed distant, and she ached.
“Because I knew he’d strike out. He was waiting for a reason. He knew Natches would come running.
And he knew then that he’d have the excuse he needed, possibly to kill him.”
She shook her head again, fighting the tears. She was fighting tears so often in the past few days.
“Then you were protecting him as well, Janey,” he told her quietly.
He moved to her then and his arms went around her. “Baby, you’re one woman. One tiny, fragile little thing. Did you think you should be using your fists like Natches did?”
She nodded against his chest, her fingers curling into his suit jacket as her breathing hitched. “I should have fought. I should have found a way to protect myself. I shouldn’t have depended on Natches. I should have been stronger, Alex.”
“You should have been just the way you are,” he whispered. “The woman who threw herself from the couch to attack a crazed woman with a gun, before she shot her son. Because you knew she would shoot you next. The woman who tore a dart out of Mark’s neck before it could kill him, and still managed, despite the tranquilizer in her system, to grab a communications device and hide it on herself so she could be found. Nothing you’ve done has been unworthy in my eyes. Or in Natches’s.”
“Hoyt’s dead, because of me.” Her stomach cramped with that knowledge. “I saw his journals. His dreams. He’ll never know them.”
“Ah, Janey.” His hand curled around her neck, so strong, his fingers against her skin, curling from the side of her neck to the back, made her feel feminine, protected. “Hoyt wouldn’t have blamed you. Did you read the final journal? How he talked about how hard you worked, the dreams he knew you had? How he wanted you to succeed? Hoyt doesn’t blame you, sweetheart.”
“Maybe I blame me.” She blinked back her tears.
“You will.” He nodded, surprising her. “Just as I blame myself that Augusta Napier was able to get to you.”
“No . . .”
He laid a finger against her lips. “I left you in the truck, without me. I didn’t trust my own instincts that night, Janey. All I thought about was catching the person trying to hurt you, and stopping it. If you want to blame anyone for Hoyt’s death, sweetheart, then blame me.”
“You won’t let me take responsibility for anything.” She pushed away from him, suddenly angry. “You’re like Natches. You make excuses for me. You pamper and baby me, and sometimes I want to scream with it.”
“Oh, I blame you for plenty,” he growled.
She swung around, eyes suddenly narrowing. “For what?”
“My hard dick. The fact that I’ve gone three days without fucking you because your family was crowded into my house like a fucking Mackay invasion. Oh yeah, Janey, there’s some blame that lies directly on your pretty shoulders. But Hoyt isn’t part of it.”
Her breath locked in her throat for long moments before she swallowed past her own need and fears.
“You haven’t acted like you wanted me.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “I had your whole family in here, Janey, and Timothy glaring at me like he’s adopted you. Hell. Do you have any idea how many times the difference in our age was mentioned and how no one had better hear sounds from our bedroom?”
Her lips twitched. “Sounds, huh?”
“Janey, sounds . And, baby, when I touch you, I do want to hear your sounds.”
“So I can take the blame for your hard dick, but not my own weaknesses?” she said roughly.
“God, don’t say the word dick unless you’re trying to get into my pants.” He sighed. “It just makes me harder.” He caught her arms, sliding his hands to her elbows then back to her shoulders. “And, baby, you’re fragile, not weak. Not unworthy. And you’re human. Hoyt knew what his mother was and he didn’t warn anyone. He could have. He should have. And he didn’t. That isn’t your fault.”
A tear slipped free. “He loved her.”
“Yes, he loved her,” Alex whispered. “But no matter how much you love me, you would never stand by and allow me to do something you didn’t agree with, would you?”
She frowned back at him. “You’re arrogant, not mean.”
“I beat those drunks up for insulting you.” His smile was slow and wicked. “And you didn’t even kiss my scraped knuckles.”
She scowled at that. “I should have boxed your ears. They were drunks.”
“They’ll think before they insult another woman while they’re drunk,” he argued back. “But you let me know exactly how much you didn’t like it, didn’t you, baby?”
“You didn’t listen.” She pouted.
“Sure I did,” he drawled. “Next time, I’ll be real nice about it and just knock their heads together. I’ll be nice and gentle.”
Janey had to fight her smile as she felt his hands slide to her dress, pulling it up slowly.
“Are you trying to undress me, Alex?”
He huffed in exasperation. “I’d really like to see what you’re wearing under that dress, Janey. And you said the word dick . You owe me now.”
This she had. She lifted her head as his lowered, parted her lips, and took his kiss, even as he took hers.
Lips and tongues touched, played together, stroked, and stoked the flames building inside them now.
She had his desire. Perhaps his distance had been because she had been surrounded by her family. And Natches had growled a lot. Timothy had doted on her and glared at Alex several times.
She had to let herself believe she could make this work. She had to let herself believe he loved her, and just didn’t realize it.
“Say it again,” he growled against her lips.
“Say what?” She was breathless, dazed with the need for more of his kisses, more of his touch.
“The word.” His lips roved over her jaw. “Talk about my dick. God, you make me hot, Janey, when you talk dirty to me.”
“You’re so naughty.” A breathless laugh left her.
“Yeah, and so are my intentions toward you.” He nipped at her ear. “Come on, talk dirty to me. Let me hear it so I can fight coming in my pants. I love it when you make me ready to come in my pants.”
Her head tilted back. “I want to suck your hard dick,” she whispered. “All the way to my throat.”
“Fuck!” His voice roughened.
“I want to do that, too.” She pushed at his jacket, dragging it over his powerful shoulders to touch him, feel him. “I want to fuck you, Alex. I want to ride you like my own wild stud. Feel you hard and thick inside me, slamming into me.”
“Hell.” He lifted her from her feet and carried her through the short hall to their bedroom.
When he released her, he was tearing at his clothes, his cheeks flushed, his eyes thunderous. “Take your clothes off.”
He tore off his shirt and yanked at his belt as she reached back and unzipped her dress.
“Can I suck your hard dick, Alex?” she whispered.
“God, you can suck any part of me you want.” The hunger was brighter, stronger in his face than she had ever seen it. As though something had stripped away the last layer between man and lust.
She dropped the dress to her feet, leaving her clad in the black bra, thong, and smoky black stockings she wore with her pumps.
“Oh, sweet mercy.” He toed his shoes off and pushed his pants and boxers from his muscled legs. “Get over here, baby. Suck my dick. Show me how much you want it.”
She moved to him, slowly, watching his hands clench at his sides. His expression was tight, his cheekbones sharply defined and flushed.
“I love sucking your cock,” she whispered, loving the freedom to be naughty with him, to love him as she needed to.
Her hands flattened against his chest, smoothed down the tight, rippling abs as she went to her knees and let her hands encase the thick, throbbing shaft.
Alex watched her, both bemused and so fucking turned on by the sight of her that it was all he could do to hold back the cum threatening to spurt from the tip of his cock.
Small beads of it formed despite the ferocious control he held over himself. She licked those drops away and murmured her appreciation with a little moan. Her lips opened, parted, encased the engorged, darkly flushed crest, and she sank her mouth onto it.
Alex’s head fell back on his shoulders as a groan tore from his throat. Her mouth was like hot silk and velvet, her tongue rasping over the ultrasensitive head, curling over it, licking and tasting him as she sucked at the engorged flesh.
The fingers of one hand moved between his thighs and cupped his balls, her palm rolling against them in a way that, fuck, his toes were curling into the damned carpet it was so good. He almost yelled out at the pleasure. He might have, if she’d left him enough breath to do it. Instead, she seemed to suck that out of his lungs with the same hungry intensity that she was sucking the control from his mind and the cum from his balls.
He couldn’t touch her. He had to force himself not to touch her. Not her hair, her face. His hands were curled into tight, knotted fists as he fought back the urge to touch.
If he touched, he’d lose it. He’d have her flat on her back, with him buried inside her and pumping his release into the hot, liquid depths of her body.
He adored her. Adored her lips, her tongue, her little moans, her silken hands, and the hunger that blazed in her eyes. But as he watched her, he knew he adored her spirit, her fire, and the woman who was so afraid of losing what she loved.
He saw it in her eyes. He’d heard it earlier in her voice. And he still couldn’t figure out how to convince her that nothing in this world or beyond could mean to him what she did.
“Sweet Janey,” he groaned, staring down at her, watching her consume him, steal his soul one soft lick, one deep draw of her lips, at a time. She had stolen his soul just as easily as she stole his control.
He could hold back only so long. His hips were moving against her lips, his eyes watching as he fucked her mouth, watching the damp moisture glistening on his cock as he pulled back, watching her lips take him as he buried the head of his erection between them once again.
His fingers uncurled, then locked in her hair. He felt his arms bulging as he fought to hold back, felt his abs flexing, his balls tightening further.
“I’m going to come, Janey,” he groaned. “Ah hell. Enough.”
He pulled back, holding on to her head as he forced her to release the bloated crest of his dick. Damn, he needed to fuck her. Needed to be buried inside her.
He lifted her to her feet before picking her up and carrying her to their bed. He laid her back and unclipped the little clasp of her bra before drawing it from her. He was dragging it over her shoulders when the sight of her tight, hard nipples became more than he could resist.