Page 32 of Inevitable Love
It’s a terrible idea. One that’s going to bite us both in the ass. But instead of making the sane decision to get in my car and go back to my own shop, there’s no way I’m going to leave. The way he’s gripping my hand right now and the plea in his voice makes me think my Jax needs a hero of his own. He needs me to be here.
“Yeah. Burgers sound great.”
We pause at the passenger door of the engine so Jackson can shuck what he calls his bunker pants and slip into a pair of boots.
As he leads me by the hand through the bay, Cal rounds the back of the engine and shoots us a wink. “It’s about fucking time. Friends, my ass.” He leads us to the door to what I assume is the living quarters, where he turns back with a grin. “Friends don’t suck face like the two of you just did.”
My face burns with the heat of a thousand suns. “I’m going to die.”
The hand holding mine flexes, immediately reminding me of the words Jackson muttered mere moments ago, and I wince. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”
“So all of you just stood around watching like a bunch of pervs?” Jackson tugs me closer as we enter a large room.
Plain white walls and coated concrete flooring give it a minimalist vibe. One wall is decorated with the department emblem. Oversized black leather recliners face a large-screen television. A table with seating for at least six, maybe eight, sits off to the side, and on the other side of theroom is a nicely furnished kitchen. An island with a counter and sink separates the space.
“Yep. Pretty much.” Kate passes through to an exterior door on the other side of the kitchen, and I can see a small patio with a grill and picnic table beyond.
It’s a small relief that none of Jax’s crew knows his sister well enough to spill the beans. But what if someone says something offhand, and it gets back to her? How are we going to keep this from Alice?
“What can I do to help?” I offer, trying to change the focus to something other than me and Jackson kissing.
“Just chill. Kate gets grumpy if we get in her way while she’s grilling,” the other medic, Leo, says.
“She mans the grill?” There’s no masking the incredulity in my voice, and I realize my mistake as soon as I say the words. I’m a blundering mess.
Leo scoffs like I’ve said the funniest thing in the world, as I step to the counter and begin helping him chop vegetables. “Three years, we’ve been partnered, and I can count the number of times I’ve grilled on one hand. But really, it’s only because Kate doesn’t otherwise know how to cook to save her life, and I like something other than just meat for a meal.”
“I heard that,” Kate calls through the open door as she transfers the burgers onto the sizzling grate.
Jackson hovers nearby, watching while Leo and I share the prepping of a salad and potatoes. I catch him glancing at me often enough I can tell something is up. I raise my eyebrows at him, wordlessly asking if he’s okay.
With a head tilt, he motions me toward the hall.
“I think this is good for now.” I hand off my prep work to Leo and follow Jackson into a long hall. He takes my hand, practically dragging me behind him, walking so fast Ihave to double step to keep up. He barrels through a door and into a small room with a twin bed. A television takes up the top of a desk, and there are three lockers against the wall, one unit open, with familiar sneakers sitting on the floor in front of it.
“Is this your room?” I take a step toward his locker, intent on fully snooping through his stuff, but he grasps my wrist, spinning me into his warm chest, and then his mouth is on mine again. I sink into the illicit taste of my best friend.
Once again, he crowds me, pushing the door out of the way before backing me up against the wall. His hands land on my waist, gripping hard enough that I’m sure I’m going to have bruises later. And then he lifts me. My legs automatically wrap around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Holding me with his strong hips, he devours my mouth like kissing me is as essential as the very air he breathes. The slick slide of his tongue along mine is heady and forbidden.
Stealthy hands slip under my shirt and up to my ribcage, his thumbs tracing the bare skin under my bra, leaving me gasping. I want his hands on me.
“Shh,” he murmurs into my ear. “Is this okay, Mags? Tell me this is okay.” His whispered words fall on the shell of my ear, the yearning in his voice so unlike anything I’ve ever heard from Jackson. It cracks my resolve to keep my distance, shatters every line I’ve drawn between us.
I knew he’d be in that factory, right at the heart of danger. And it scared the life out of me, knowing he could be taken from me. The reality that his job is to put himself in life-threatening situations for the sake of others was driven home today in a way that left me hopelessly searching for any sign that he was okay.
His crewmates are right on the other side of the opendoor we hide behind. He can’t be mine. Yet I want nothing more than to taste him again. To feel him alive and well and mine.
“Yes,” I breathe, sliding my arms around his neck, cradling his head and pulling him back for another one of those drugging kisses. He rocks his hips against me, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I stifle a moan.
He breaks the kiss, his hot mouth tracing the line of my jaw, down the column of my throat. “I need to touch you,” he gasps.
“Please,” I beg. Though barely a sound, the word bounces off the bare walls, coming back with a force that slams into both of us.
He shifts his hands to my thighs and pulls back, lowering one leg and hitching the other higher around him. Heat gathers low in my belly as calloused fingers trail up the back of my thigh.
“Do you know how much I love Madonna day and this flirty little skirt you always wear?” he says, tracing the edge of my underwear. His head lowers to my bare shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the ridge, nipping the sensitive spot at the base of my neck.
