Damaged Hearts, Book 3 Page 2

  A realization hits me, making me suck in a sharp breath. What if Greg is a friend? What if he’s…

  Family.

  “And what would you have done when you saw him, Jens? Screamed at him in the middle of my parents’ house? Called the cops on this guy?” Rhett shakes his head as he puts the car in drive and peels out of the driveway. “I can’t imagine you making a scene during Addie’s party,” he continues as he pulls onto the street, revving the engine so hard my head knocks against the back of the seat.

  He remains quiet as he drives through his parents’ neighborhood, and all I can do is think. He’s right. I know he’s right. But I don’t like how he’s assuming things. It’s almost like he’s telling me what to do, or how to feel. He’s not very talkative either, and Rhett loves to talk.

  I never want to talk. Saying too much means you reveal too much, and I’ve already given Rhett more than enough information about myself.

  It’s like I can’t help myself, though. I want to know more. No, I need to know more. I don’t understand why he’s being so damn quiet.

  “Did you see Addie?” I finally ask when I can’t take it anymore. “Greg wasn’t near her, was he?”

  “Addie was with Trent. She’s fine,” he murmurs irritably, his gaze zeroed in on the road ahead of him. Which is a good thing, right? I want him to concentrate on his driving, not on me.

  But I can’t take the silence, I can’t take the not knowing. The unknown is making me crazy and I squirm in my seat, tap my fingers on the center console. He sends me a look when my nails make a loud clicking sound and I snatch my hand away, clutching them together in my lap.

  We remain silent, the tension building between us to nearly unbearable, and when I realize he’s driving me back to his place, I break.

  “I want to go home.” Not that I have a home, since I’m referring to Savannah’s apartment. I gave my home up, like an idiot. What was I thinking, never going back to my little house, just leaving it abandoned and not telling my landlord? It’s almost like I do reckless, stupid things on purpose.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. I lie. “I don’t think we should spend the night together.”

  “Why not?”

  I flinch at the tone of his voice. I can’t even describe it. He just…he doesn’t sound like himself. “I don’t know. Maybe because you seem mad.”

  “I’m not.” He says nothing else, and I almost want to laugh. He’s the liar at this particular moment.

  He remains quiet and it’s driving me crazy. So crazy and I want to yell and scream and make a scene, just to get a reaction out of him. “Are you sure?” I finally ask when I can’t stand the silence any longer.

  “I’m sure,” he says, he murmurs.

  “Right.” I hesitate, then decide to go for it. “Then why won’t you talk to me?”

  “What do you want me to say? How am I supposed to react, when you tell me that the guy who paid ten thousand dollars to spend the night with you, the same guy you claimed tried to rape you, just walked into my dad’s house? That this asshole is here to celebrate my baby sister’s birthday.” We come to a stop at a red light, and he turns to look at me with fire in his eyes. “Are you positive that was him?”

  Hasn’t he already asked me this before? “I already told you it was. Do you not believe me?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You don’t have to. You keep talking about my seeing Greg walking into your parents’ house like maybe I’m mistaken or something.” I look away from him, staring out the passenger window once more. What I wouldn’t give to just burst out of this car and run away, never to see him again.

  No. I don’t really mean that. I would miss him. Damn it, I caught feelings for him and I regret it. I so regret it.

  “I just want to make sure.” His voice is gentle, not so full of anger like it was a minute ago, but I still won’t look at him. Too afraid of what I might see in his gaze. Like judgment. “What you’re saying is…huge. A life changer.”

  “Why?” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “How is it a life changer that we just saw Greg?” I look at him now, and all I see is pain etched into his features. “You do know him, don’t you?”

  He slowly shakes his head. “I told you. I don’t know a Greg.”

  A horn honks behind us, and we both glance up to see the light turned green. Rhett hits the gas, speeding through the intersection. If he doesn’t watch it, he’s going to get a ticket, and I’m sure that would piss him off even more.

  “Just take me home,” I say, crossing my arms. I feel like a pouty child, but clearly he’s not listening to me.

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” I turn in my seat to glare at him, but he’s too focused on driving. “What, are you holding me hostage?”

  We come to a stop at another light and his gaze meets mine. “If I take you back to Savannah’s, I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”

  Oh. My lips part, but I can’t come up with anything to say.

  He knows me better than I thought.

  “I can’t risk it.” Rhett looks away, working his jaw. “Just—will you come back to my house? Please? We can talk about this more then. Or we don’t have to talk at all. I just—I can’t chance letting you go, Jensen. I’m afraid you won’t come back to me.”

  I want to cry. I want to leave. I want to stay. Too many conflicting thoughts run through my brain, though I already know my answer.

  I’m staying.

  We don’t speak as we move through the dark, quiet house. I follow him back to his bedroom, turning to watch as Rhett closes and locks the door behind him. He leans against the door, studying me in the near darkness for a moment before he says, “Come here.”

  Any other guy would’ve said that to me, and I would’ve told him to suck my nonexistent dick, but for Rhett, I’ll go to him. And when I approach him, he reaches for me, his hands cupping my face so gently, I almost want to cry.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asks, his breath wafting across my face. I slowly shake my head and he caresses my cheeks with his thumbs. “Me either.”

  Instead he kisses me. Sweetly. A mere brushing of lips that sends a scattering of tingles all over my skin. I tip my head back, part my lips, but he still won’t take it beyond soft, innocent kisses that make me melt and fill me with frustration all at once.

  This is so typical of Rhett. My feelings for him aren’t easy. They aren’t black and white. They’re every color of the rainbow, every temperature you can think of. He makes me run hot and cold, angry and sad, mad and happy. He challenges me, he frustrates me, and he makes me want to love him.

  Yet I don’t know if I’m capable of that emotion.

  He makes me feel like I am, though. His hand drops to my waist and I suck in a breath at first touch of his warm fingers burning through the thin fabric of my dress. I remember earlier in his old bedroom at his dad’s house, before I saw Greg and I felt happy and free. When Rhett stripped me naked, laid me out on his bed and put his mouth on me. How he made me come so easily, then wanted nothing in return.

  The need to give back to him overwhelms me, and I break the kiss first, resting my fingers on his belt buckle. “I want you,” I murmur against his lips as I start to undo his belt.

  “Jensen…” he starts to protest, but I drop to my knees in front of him, biting my lower lip as I determinedly undo his belt, then his jeans. He’s already hard. I can see his erection straining the front of his boxer briefs, and I glance up to find him watching me.

  “You want this.” It’s not a question, because I know he wants me. I drift my fingers across the front of his underwear, making him groan. “Tell me you want it.”

  “You know that I want you,” he starts, but he stops talking when I yank on his jeans and underwear at the same time, pulling them both down so his cock springs free right in front of my face. I grab hold of the base of him, rising up on my knees a little so my mouth is directly in front
of the tip.

  “Say it, Rhett. I need to hear you say it.” I release my hold on him so I can whip my dress off, tossing it onto the floor so I’m only in my panties. My nipples are so hard they hurt, and I can feel him staring at me. Staring at my body. He seems entranced with it, like I’m the most beautiful, sexiest woman he’s ever been with, and his reverence makes me feel powerful.

  “I want you,” he growls, his hand going to my hair, smoothing it away from the side of my face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I almost laugh when he toes off his shoes and shoves his jeans and underwear down to his ankles, kicking them off downright violently. I lean away as he bends over and tears off his socks, his hands going to the front of his shirt so he can undo the buttons as fast as he can. Until he’s standing before me naked, proud and erect and gorgeous, and I’d bet he’s even a little pissed still. The look on his face tells me that.

  I’m worried and upset and mad still too. Seeing Greg threw me. Rhett’s reaction to me seeing Greg threw me too.

  But I still want Rhett. I want him to want me too.

  “You know what I want,” Rhett says, his deep voice breaking through my troubled thoughts.

  “I want to hear you say it.” I’m constantly pushing him, but only because he pushes me, and I don’t even think he knows it. He makes me want to be adventurous. He makes me want to experiment. Only with him.

  “Suck my cock,” he demands, thrusting his hips toward me, the head of his cock almost brushing my lips.

  I grab hold of his erection once more and lick it, circling my tongue around the tip, my gaze never leaving his. His eyes are hungry, his lips parted as he watches me flick my tongue back and forth before sucking him deep into my mouth. His eyelids lower, a long exhale escaping him, and then I’m the one closing my eyes, savoring the salty taste of him, how he feels inside my mouth.

  Before, I never liked giving blowjobs. They made me feel powerless. Vulnerable. As if I was being forced into doing it, and truthfully? Most of the time, I was. That’s all a guy wants—at least, the guys I knew. When they’re in the early teens, they want handjobs. Then they graduate to blowjobs. And all those boys I messed around with in high school? They were so damn demanding. Forget the female orgasm. All they cared about was shooting their wad.

  Not Rhett. He gives to me so selflessly. He cares about my pleasure. And that makes me care about his.

  “Jesus,” he murmurs when I take him extra deep, nearly choking myself. He slips a hand into my hair, cradling the side of my head, his fingers tightening, making me wince. But I welcome the pain. It means I can feel, that this man makes me feel all sorts of things, all of them good and positive and wonderful and…

  Hopeful.

  Who knew Rhett Montgomery, the man I viewed as my mortal enemy, would turn into the person I would depend on the most? The one who would actually make me feel like a normal person for once in my life?

  Rhett

  I can’t take it anymore. Seeing Jensen on her knees in nothing but those tiny panties, my dick stuffed in her mouth, my fingers tangled in her thick, silky hair…

  She keeps this up, I’m going to come. Fast.

  With a moan I pull away from her, grabbing my stiff cock and giving it a short stroke. I could’ve let this continue. I wanted it to continue. But I have to show some goddamn restraint.

  The look she sends me is nothing short of irritated. “I wasn’t finished. You weren’t finished.”

  “I don’t want to finish. Not like this.” I scoop her into my arms and carry her to my bed, where I drop her on the mattress and fall down on top of her. Before she can protest, I kiss her, stealing her words, her breath. When I finally break the kiss, I whisper, “I want to come inside you.”

  Her gaze flares and her lips curve into a tiny smile. She arches beneath me, her breasts brushing against my chest. “Whatever you want.”

  Smiling at her in return, I dip my head and kiss her again, thrusting my tongue against hers, my hands wandering all over her body, touching all my favorite parts of her, making her gasp. With Jensen, I feel like I can never get enough. She makes me greedy. Possessive. Like I want to beat my chest and tell the world she belongs to me.

  Like I want to grab the person who hurt her and bash his face in with my fist.

  I banish the distracting thought and focus on the woman lying beneath me. Breaking our kiss, I run my mouth along her jaw, down her neck, across her chest. I kiss her breasts, suck first one nipple, then the other, into my mouth. Press tiny kisses to her stomach, drop one on each hipbone, my fingers sliding between her legs, beneath her panties, to find her drenched.

  She lifts her hips and thrusts against my hand, her breaths quickening as I increase my pace. I shift down and push aside her panties, lowering my mouth to her pussy to tease her with my tongue, slipping two fingers deep inside her. Once. Twice. In. Out.

  I remember what I said earlier about wanting to be inside her when I come, and I pull away right before I make her climax. She moans in pure frustration, her eyes snapping open to glare at me. With a smile I reach for her, tugging her panties off with impatient, fumbling fingers before she’s finally, gloriously naked. Leaning back on my haunches, I study her for a moment. She has the most beautiful body ever. It’s like she’s not even aware of how fucking sexy she really is.

  Grabbing her waist, I pull her in closer, her legs spreading to wrap around me, her body wide open and ready. Without pause I enter her, slowly, easing in to pure heaven, groaning when I’m fully inside. She’s tight and hot, her thighs trembling, her body arching, and I watch in fascination as she closes her eyes, her hands going to her breasts, fingers absently playing with her nipples. Her lack of inhibition is such a turn on. She touches herself boldly, demands more from me without hesitation, and all I want to do is give.

  Give, give, give to this girl until I’ve got nothing left inside me.

  I begin to move, pulling out. Pushing in, staring intently at where our bodies are connected. Jensen moves with me, her body undulating, her head thrown back in pure abandon, her hair spread out on my pillow. She closes her eyes, her lips parting on a short gasp, her hands moving away from her breasts so she can throw her arms above her head. Craving closeness, I shift so I’m on top of her, our chests pressed close, my cock sinking deeper inside her welcoming body. She winds her legs around my hips, anchoring herself to me, and I increase my pace.

  Our relationship might be complicated, but the sex isn’t. It never has been. We’re sexually compatible in every way. We move together fluidly, Jensen countering my every move, like we choreographed it beforehand. She digs her heels into my ass, pressing me closer, her hands in my hair, her mouth on my neck, her hot breath setting me on fire. I work my hips, driving deeper, my mind drawing a complete blank as my impending orgasm hovers closer. The base of my spine tingles, everything inside of me clutching, drawing up, going tense. When we’re like this, I can’t think. We don’t need to think. We’re operating on raw, animal instinct. All thoughts and worries gone.

  We only want to fuck. To give each other pleasure.

  There’s a hitch in her breath, and her body freezes, those tiny Jensen tells that let me know she’s so damn close. She murmurs my name, her voice choked, and then she falls over that delicious edge with a breathless gasp, her entire body shivering, her pussy milking my dick and sending me straight into oblivion. I follow right after her, my orgasm draining me, leaving me exhausted. Blissed out.

  Beyond satisfied.

  She pushes me off her when we’re finished, and climbs out of bed, heading for the attached bathroom. I watch her go, admiring the sensual sway of her hips, the perfect curve of her ass cheeks, how they bounce when she walks. Sitting up a little, I curl my arms and rest my hands beneath my head, waiting for her to exit the bathroom.

  Mere minutes later she opens the door, the light from the bathroom casting her in a sexy silhouette. I stare at her unabashedly, savoring the rosy f
lush of her skin, her still hard nipples, how unashamed she seems in her nakedness.

  And she knows I’m staring too. Resting a hand on her hip, she watches me, her delicate brows lifted, her mouth formed in a sexy pout. “You look disgustingly pleased with yourself.”

  “Sounds like you’re accusing me of something,” I tell her.

  “Maybe I am. No one has a right to look that happy.” She waves a hand at me, like I’m an annoying fly she wants to shoo away.

  I’m immediately offended. And I almost think she’s serious. “Maybe you make me that happy.”

  Why is that so hard to believe for her? I don’t get it.

  Most of the time, I don’t get her.

  With a sigh she flicks off the light in the bathroom and approaches the bed, standing at the foot of the mattress, suddenly appearing unsure. “We were fighting only a few minutes ago.”

  “So?” I shrug. “Having sex tends to make me forget all about fighting.”

  She says nothing in response. Just watches me with both hands on her hips now, totally confident in her nakedness.

  “You want me to be honest?” I ask.

  She says nothing. Probably because she’s not big on being honest.

  Ouch. I roasted her in my own head.

  When she still hasn’t said anything, I continue. “I don’t even know what we were fighting about,” I say with a sigh, though I’m a liar.

  I remember everything.

  “I don’t like it when you lie,” she murmurs, slowly shaking her head. Like I’ve disappointed her or some shit.

  I sit up straight, glaring at her. “I don’t like it when you lie either.”

  Her mouth drops open, the hurt on her face obvious. I automatically feel like an asshole, even though I shouldn’t. I have every right to call her out on her lies. After all, she’s lied to me before. Plenty of times. What’s going to stop her now?

  Deep down, I know what this is really about. Why I’m saying these things, why I’m feeling this way. I can’t stand the thought of my uncle being the one who attacked her. I’d almost rather think she was lying to me.