Page 64 of Dirty Gambit

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured into the top of her head, into a downy nest of curls that tickled his lips and jaw.

The woman in his arms shifted, lips skimming his Adam’s apple. Jaxon waited for her to come awake, to open those incredible brown eyes and blink up at him, but she didn’t. She stayed in her dreams.

Jaxon sighed, brushed another kiss to her temple, and gingerly started the process of slipping out from their knot. Yet, the moment he was free of her warmth, he hated it. Hated the loss of her weight. Hated the fading scent of her skin the further he got from her. Lena twisted into the outline of him in the mattress and tried to nestle into it. It took all his self-control not to say fuck it and climb back in with her. Instead, he reminded himself why he needed to get his ass in gear. He reminded himself that — once he settled things with his parents — he had his entire life to stay in bed with Lena. But he didn’t trust that his parents wouldn’t go back on their promise not to call the cops before he’d had a chance to explain things to them. He needed to make them understand.

His dad would be reasonable. He would listen to the facts and make an informed decision. Years of presiding over court cases and defending the justice system, Richard Westwick was known for his patience and composure.

Nicole Westwick would not be so easy. She was nothing if not fierce and vicious where her children’s safeties were concerned. She would not accept anything he said without a lot of persuading. She had been ready for blood when he’d spoken to her the night before. It had taken him and his dad nearly an hour to calm her down. He knew she would not be forgiving or accepting of Lena, but Jaxon hoped that, once she had Jessie in her arms again, she might be willing to at least listen to reason. Once he knew his mom was in a good place, he could properly introduce Lena to her, get them to talk, and find new common ground. But one hurdle at a time.

He tugged the sheets up and over Lena, tucking her in the best he could without waking her. He quietly gathered up her clothes and draped them along the foot of the bed, trying his damnedest not to pull up images of peeling them off her and tossing them aside. It would be too easy to submit to his morning erection and crawl over to where Lena lay. He could so easily twist her onto her back, tug back the sheets, pull apart her knees and delve in. That would definitely wake her up.

“Fuck!” he hissed under his breath when his cock gave a coaxing twitch, desperate to sink back inside her and have her pull them in deep. For a virgin, she’d been so eager and responsive. So hungry. It made him wonder what else she was willing to try.

Dislodging the teasing fingers of desire creeping along his spine, Jaxon forced his body to turn away and scoop up his own discarded clothes. He marched them into the bathroom and pitched them into the hamper before taking the coldest shower in history.

It was brief, just long enough to scrub off the dried sweat and the lingering evidence of Lena’s innocence from his skin. He didn’t bother shaving or combing his damp hair. He had very few, precious minutes to fly to his parents and back. He didn’t trust Lena not to try and sacrifice herself to Travis or the authorities while he was gone. Short of locking her up in the room, he didn’t know how to stop her. The best he could hope for was around the clock monitoring and persistence on his part would work.

Lena had moved in his absence when he emerged twenty minutes later dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans. She lay face down at the center of the bed, one leg hooked, the sheets a teasing scrap over the curve of her ass. Her face was buried in his pillow. The smooth line of her back teased his fingers to touch, to trace the rigid bumps from end to end, to litter with kisses. He made a mental note to fulfill that urge the first chance he got.

Instead, he carefully made his way to the writing desk and unearthed a sheet of paper and a pen. In quick form, he scribbled down a hasty assurance that he left propped against the box of condoms he’d pilfered from his parent’s room. He gathered up the bowl and spoon off the nightstand, cast Lena a final, lingering glance before making his way into the hall.

“You’re up early.” Aunt Frankie was already seated at the kitchen nook when Jaxon stalked in with his discard items.

She sat beneath the window still painted a fading dark blue with just a strip of gold to announce the approaching dawn. A cup of tea sat in front of her, next to the morning paper and half a grapefruit. Her trademark lipstick smeared the cup’s edge but remained a vibrant crimson smoothed across her lips. They bowed into a tiny grin she only half hid behind her steaming drink.

“I would think after last night, you would need time to … recuperate.”

The half-eaten bowl of soup was scraped clean in the compost with the spoon before both were thoroughly washed and placed in the drying rack. Only when there was nothing left to occupy him did he turn to face his aunt and her knowing smirk.

“I’ll rest once I clear Lena,” he told her.

Frankie didn’t bother misunderstanding him. She tweaked the plastic frames of her reading glasses higher on her nose with one hand and motioned for him to take a seat at the table with the other.

“She’s a sweet girl,” she deduced once he’d claimed the chair across from her. “She’s been through hell, not going to lie. I’ve known grown men who went through less and still fell apart. You have to give her credit for that.” Jaxon said nothing, waiting for thebutlingering in the air between them to drop. “But she’s not your problem, Jax. You can’t save her, not from the mess she’s made.”

“I have to try.”

She splayed her hands, palms open on the table. “To what end? They found her hair and fingerprints at the crime scene of three fatally shot police officers. Hair can be planted, but fingerprints? You might have to—”

“She didn’t do it,” he cut in, putting every ounce of his own conviction into the bold statement. “Trust me. It sounds insane, I know, but she’s innocent … of murder,” he pinned when a penciled eyebrow quirked. “I believe her and I can’t let her go down for this.”

“Because she’s done something to earn that trust or because you slept with her and you’re thinking with the wrong head?”

Jaxon tried not to fidget under the unwavering scrutiny. “You think I’m compromised.”

Frankie shrugged and gave a little nod. “Aren’t you? You met the girl under the most unusual and drastic circumstances, but here you are, ready to dive into battle for her. There’s a term for what you’re going through.”

“Stockholm syndrome?” he offered with a rueful smile. “Yeah, I thought that, too, but that isn’t it. I’m not saying I’m in love with her. Lord knows there were a few times I surprised myself by not strangling her, but I’m … something. I don’t have words for it. It’s just this deep, gut feeling telling me I need her.” He peered across the short table at the woman who had basically been his second mom growing up, willing her to understand. “I’m not defending the things she’s done. A lot of it, I know she had to, to survive. But I would bet my life on the fact that she didn’t kill those cops.”

Aunt Frankie took a slow, measured sip of her tea. Her gaze drifted away from Jaxon and fixed on a point just over his right shoulder. He knew there was nothing there, but he let her mull over his words and drink her tea.

“Your parents won’t like this.” The mug made a soft thud on the table between them. “They will not allow her anywhere near Jessie again, you know that, right? Are you prepared for that fight?”

“You’re the one who taught me that no battle worth fighting is easy.”

Frankie’s mouth broke into her first real smile that morning. “You know this isn’t what I meant.”

Jaxon shook his head. “But you’re right. I think once I talk to my parents, and once they have Jessie back, I might be able to make them see—”

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