Savor the Danger

It couldn’t be Trace or Dare. Not only were they both now married, but their constant presence would only alarm Alani more. There’d be no explaining it to her without telling her how risky the situation could be.

So Jackson got dibs, and that suited him just fine.

Trace ran a hand through his hair. “Alani, seriously… Are you sure about this?”

Far too solemn, she eyed her brother and Dare. “I’d appreciate it if you two would drink your coffee and then go so that Jackson and I can talk.”

Her announcement hit them each in a different way.

Not about to budge, Trace snorted.

Dare merely said, “No can do, hon.”

And Jackson put his arm around her. “We gotta make plans first.”

“I have a plan.” Spine straight, shoulders stiff, she shrugged off his touch. “I’m going to finish discussing this with you, then you will leave so that I can take a long shower and go to bed early.”

Jackson opened his mouth, and she said with emphasis, “Alone.”

Damn. She sounded cold and distant. Had she overheard them talking? They’d kept their voices low, but in her small house, even with the radio blaring from the kitchen, she might have picked up a word or two. Well, she’d just have to deal with it. But to be sure, Jackson asked, “What’s wrong?”

Not only did Alani give him an incredulous look, so did Dare and Trace.

At the end of his rope, Jackson stood and took her hand. “Be right back.” He started tugging Alani toward the kitchen.

She held back. “Jackson.”

On the ragged edge, he leaned down to nearly touch his nose to hers. “Here or in private, woman. Make up your mind.”

Trace took a step forward—and that decided her. She said to her brother and Dare, “Drink your coffee! We won’t be long.”

And then it was Alani leading the way.

Once in the kitchen, Jackson stepped around the wall with her for a smidge of privacy. He caged her in with his forearms on the wall at either side of her head.

Staring up at him, she looked small and fragile and very appealing.

He had to taste her.

Murmuring, “I missed you,” he kissed her bottom lip, her upper lip, and then he settled in for a soft but deep mating of their mouths.

Her breasts pressed to his ribs, her hands flattening on his chest before sliding up to his shoulders. With a small sound of hunger, she curled her fingers, holding on to him.

Yeah, he liked that. A lot.

He felt her racing breath, her trembling….

“God, woman.” With an effort, he freed her mouth but had to return for several more soft, quick pecks. “I don’t want to rush you.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest with a small, dubious laugh. “Funny, because all you do is rush me.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” He nudged up her face. “What’s wrong? Besides all that confusion from this morning, I mean. You went into the kitchen one way and came back another. What did you think about in here?”

“Everything.”

That didn’t sound promising. “Start with one thing, and we’ll get to the others.”

“Okay.” She smoothed a hand over his chest, inadvertently inciting his lust; when Alani touched him, he felt it everywhere. “You want to go on like yesterday happened.”

No woman had ever left him this confused. And horny. At the moment mostly confused. No, mostly…it didn’t matter. “Yesterday did happen.”

“But you don’t remember it.” Her eyes full of entreaty with an edge of uncertainty, she gazed up at him. “I want to be honest with you.”

“Honesty is good.” Because he honestly knew that she wanted him, too.

“It’s disturbing that I can’t think of anything else, but you can’t even remember it.” She looked down at his sternum, and her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I still feel you, Jackson.”

A bombardment of emotions took his breath. “Yeah?”

“I’m tender in places that I’ve never noticed before.”

Ah, hell. Hearing that stirred him anew. He nuzzled her ear. “Like where?”

“You know where.”

His muscles clenched. In a near growl, he insisted, “Tell me anyway.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “My thighs are shaky.”

“I was rough with you?”

“No. You…you were exuberant.”

Heat rose inside him. “Where else?”

Voice lower, filled with shyness, she admitted, “My breasts still feel full, and my…”

He bent to see her face. “Nipples?” Just talking to her was more exciting than sex with other women. He badly wanted to cover her breasts with his hands, to touch her, to draw her into his mouth and test how tender she might be.

Tilting back from her, he looked at the soft white swells above the top of her sundress. Putting a tight leash on his need, he trailed one fingertip over the top of each breast.

With her accelerated breaths, her flesh shimmered.

Slowly, with hot intent, he drifted his open hand over the front of the dress, cupped her right breast and gently circled the taut nipple with his thumb.

She gasped; her hands clutched at him.

His gaze sought hers. “They’re sensitive?”