Never Let You Down: The Connaghers, Book 4 (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Once upon a time, Jeb had dreamed of this. Sitting in front of a fireplace all slouched down and comfortable with Virginia tucked into his side. Granted, the gas fireplace was for entertainment only and he’d never expected to be living in a modern, sterile-looking apartment, but he’d take it. He’d sit outside in the dirt if he could have her beside him.

She sat up and splashed another couple of fingers of Glenlivet into her glass, offering him a refill too.

“No thanks.” Uneasy tendrils stretched through his stomach, even though she settled back beside him easily.
Something’s not right. Not right at all.

They were starting to settle into a routine. She’d spend time with her family during the day, and sometimes the evening too. He didn’t mind, especially when she called him later before bed. Every few nights, she’d ask him to come get her and she’d spend the night with him, each night as glorious as any of the others. In a matter of a few weeks, he’d probably had more sex than he’d had the last ten years.

But she never had him over when her family was home. In fact, he hadn’t stepped foot inside her home since that first day he’d eaten with her family. While the sex was fantastic, she had yet to do anything to him but give a few commands, certainly nothing like a sadist who’d lived with an eager masochist for twenty years would be capable of.

And she’d never had three glasses of Scotch before.

“Long day with Miss Belle?”

She winced and laughed wryly. “You have no idea. That woman makes drill sergeants look soft. I’ve cleaned parts of that house I haven’t seen in twenty years.”

He frowned, worried about her arm. “When do you get the cast off?”

She shrugged. “I’m supposed to go see my doctor tomorrow and look at getting a lighter cast put on for the last few weeks. Then I’ll have to figure out how I’ll get back and forth to physical therapy.”

“You know I’ll drive you anytime you need to go.”

“I know.” She tipped her head against him, giving him an affectionate rub. “I’m going to have to start driving again soon, though I guess that means I’ll have to buy a car first. My Taurus is already a cube of metal somewhere. I think I had that poor old thing nearly fifteen years. No wonder the insurance company sent such a tiny little check.”

Maybe money was a problem. Ty had never cared much for the almighty dollar. “You could always have my car.” She tipped her head so she could shoot him a don’t-you-dare look. “I use the truck for driving around the country anyway. I only bought the Caddy because I was hoping it would entice you into going for another joyride with me.”

“It worked.” She laughed softly, lifting the glass to take another sip. The whiskey darkened her voice to a rich, husky vibrato that was doing crazy things to his body, melting his will that insisted he figure out what was bothering her. “But I couldn’t possibly just
take
your gorgeous luxury car.”

You could if you married me. What’s mine has always been yours anyway.

Before he could embarrass himself, she changed the subject. “How’s the writing?”

She gave him the opening he’d been hoping for, but he wasn’t quite ready to broach the subject with her. Maybe he’d never be ready. He’d been up front with her for the most part, but there were certain aspects to some of his stories that she might find…

Too close to home.

Sharon never read his stories—never had any interest in them. But once she saw the latest cover with the bold Victorious title, her eyes had narrowed and she’d pulled that book down off the shelf to read the blurb on the back. And she’d known the truth, even though the woman on the cover didn’t physically resemble Virginia at all.

Well, Sharon had jumped to some logical conclusions and never gave him a chance to explain. Yes, his current heroine had originally been based on Virginia and her two men, assuming Jeb could ever count himself as one of hers. But only in the beginning. Things had morphed and changed since he’d started, but anyone who knew Virginia would see some of her traits in Victorious.

Of course, the dedication had been a dead giveaway too. A fatal assumption on his part that his wife would continue to never even pick up one of his books.

For V, the one true love of my life.

“I try not to bother you too much during the day so you can work.”

“You could never be a bother,” he replied. “It’s going well right now. In fact…” He took a deep breath and gathered his courage. “The latest book was nominated for another award.”

She twisted around and propped her cast on his chest. “Oh, Jeb, that’s wonderful!”

The smile on her face tore the ground out from beneath his feet and slung him out into the middle of the ocean.
She’s actually proud. Of me.

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s kind of a Western steampunk romp. Lots of crazy fun with big guns, Wild West drama and, at the end, huge robot dinosaurs. I just went crazy with the worldbuilding.”

But that wasn’t why the book resonated with people. The worldbuilding had been fun, sure, but what made the book so important to him were the characters. He tried to think of how he’d tell her.

You see, I based Victorious on you, Ginny. Her sheriff is Ty and her bank robber is me. She loves them both and they love her, to the point where they’d risk anything to keep her safe, and in the end…

They all live happily ever after. Like you and I and Ty could never do.

“And the male character is submissive?”

Her voice drew his gaze up to her face. She set the glass aside and settled on his lap, facing him, her fingers already unbuttoning his shirt. “Yes.”

“So he likes his heroine to take control.”

“Always.” Jeb dared push a little more, trying to see if he could find her sadist side. “He likes anything she likes.”

“Bondage?”

He shuddered, imagining being completely bound and helpless for her. “Absolutely.”

“Lean forward.” He did so, helping her pull his shirt loose from his pants. But she didn’t just want his chest bared. She pulled the material over his head, bringing the shirt around to the front so she could bind his arms. It took a minute with her injured arm, but she managed to tangle him up pretty well, though he could free himself in a heartbeat if she started to fall. “Are you okay with this?”

“Absolutely,” he repeated, putting all his intent and will into that word alone.
Use me any way you want, Ginny. Let me take the pain so you don’t have to.

But evidently pain wasn’t on her mind. Or it was, but she refused to show it to him.

She’d been wearing skirts each night she stayed with him. Miss Belle might have been tickled pink to finally see her daughter wearing girlie clothes, but Jeb knew she was only wearing things with easy access. Jeans would have been too hard for her to get off with only one arm, and she’d never liked asking for help. It’d be more likely to snow a foot every day in Dallas for a month than for Virginia to ask for assistance with something as mundane as pulling her jeans down. Even though he’d like nothing better than to go to his knees and help her slide the denim down with nothing but his teeth. She stood up just long enough to reach up under her skirts and yank her underwear down. Then she climbed back onto his lap and ground against his erection still trapped in his jeans.

The denim had to be rough on her tender skin. It made him quiver with frustration, desperately yearning to satisfy her every want and need. He didn’t want her hurting herself. He wanted to bear that pain for her. Gladly.

He tried another tactic, lifting his arms back over his head to make his body as open and available as possible. Being a submissive had its advantages, because he sure didn’t mind begging. “Please, Ginny.”

She rose up on her knees and nibbled on his lips. “What do you need?”

“Hurt me.”

Her eyes were heavy and dark, her need rising like a hidden demon she refused to show for fear it’d escape. She reached down and worked his jeans free with her good hand, a slow, lazy fumbling that had him panting and sweating before his dick finally sprang free. “Why should I hurt you?”

“I need it,” he gasped, arching his chest forward, trying to touch her without dropping his arms into the way. “I need you.”

She rubbed her open mouth against his, using her words as a caress. “You don’t need that, trust me. You don’t want to stir that beast up.”

“I do. No matter what it is.”

She laughed but it was a hard, self-deprecating sound that made him wince, even though she rose up and began taking him into her body. “Let me keep you safe from that as long as possible.”

He wanted to tell her he already saw it. He already loved that beast she was so afraid of. That he’d been dying to embrace her—and all her darkness—for years. Ever since that night Tyrell Connagher had come to his door, showed him the marks on his back, and then beaten the crap out of him for the right to keep all her furious pain to himself. But his brain couldn’t make his mouth respond, not when her tongue was in his mouth and her body engulfed him hungrily.

Fully seated against him, she pulled back enough to see his eyes. “Look at me.”

He forced his eyes open and put all his emotion into the look he gave her. Joy, that he’d finally found her. Need, crushing and overwhelming. And yes, desperation, fear, the agonizing worry that he wasn’t enough for her. That she’d never let him in fully.

“Your eyes, Jeb. God, it’s like looking into the midnight sky out in the middle of nowhere, night as bright as day because there are so many stars burning in the sky. Don’t ask me to hurt you again.”

She couldn’t bear the light shining in his eyes. So open, vulnerable, good and sweet and gentle. How could she risk hurting him and making that light die? If he ever looked at her with fear…

I should have buried that fucking crop with Ty so I wouldn’t have to bear the temptation.

It wouldn’t have done any good though. Rocking against him, she had to fight herself not to suck his bottom lip into her mouth and dig her teeth in that tender flesh until he whimpered. The Scotch had taken the edge off her violence, but the beast still rumbled a dull roar inside her. Her good hand gripped his shoulder, her nails pressing into his skin, but that was better than fisting in his hair and jerking his head back flat against the couch. God help him when she had both hands back to full use.

She ground herself against him, forcing the head of his cock up against her cervix as hard as she could. Most women couldn’t stand such pain, and yeah, it hurt. It hurt like a bitch. Exactly what she needed the most.

He was too big and thick for her to last long under that kind of delicious torment.

“Don’t hold back,” she panted against his lips. “I want you to come with me.”

She made sure to always tell him, because he had the disturbing habit of trying to hold back as long as possible, still not quite trusting in his older body’s ability to keep her sated. She gritted her teeth, fighting to remain in control. No flailing. No maiming. No biting, hitting, squeezing, tearing… She collapsed against his chest, relieved to feel him jerking inside her. Though that tearing sound had been his shirt, because his big palms cupped her buttocks, lifting her up as if he was afraid he was going to damage something inside her.

“Doesn’t it hurt when you take me that deep?”

“That’s the point.” She pressed her face up into his neck, breathing in his scent. Smoky woods and oranges, yes, but underneath a sweetness that made her stomach twist with yearning. It was almost like picking up a baby blanket and smelling its sweet soap and lotion, only there wasn’t anything baby-like with Jeb. It was just her urge to protect and hold him, to return some of his care after all the many times he’d raced to her aid or put up with her stupid antics, or worse, suffered because of her selfish choices. “You feel damned good, Jebadiah Garrett.”

“Not that I’m complaining…” She pulled back and quirked a brow at him. He flushed but continued. “But I am good for more than sex, you know, even fantastic sex.”

“Are my ears lying, or do I hear a man complaining that he’s being used too much for sex?”

He flushed darker, his hands gripping her harder, like he was afraid she might decide to leave before he was done. “I said I wasn’t complaining. I never knew it could be so good, or that I’d still be able to do even half the things you’re coaxing out of me.”

“But…?”

“I love you, Ginny.”

Killer shot straight to the heart. In fact, her heart stuttered a moment, as if it’d forgotten how to beat.

“I want to be a part of your life. Not someone you occasionally spend the night with.”

“I know,” she whispered, clearing her throat so she didn’t sound so wounded. “That’s what you think? That I don’t care about you at all except for what you’ve got in your pants?”

He slid his arms up her back, gathering her close, gently, as if she were made of fine china that might explode if he touched her too hard. “Not at all. I just want to be sure we’re clear how much you mean to me. I’m yours, as long as you’ll have me.”

“I don’t want you to go anywhere.” In fact, she was almost done clearing out her house of all of Ty’s old things. The Salvation Army was coming by this weekend to haul off the last of the donation items. In many ways, her accident had been a blessing in disguise. Since all the kids were in town, it was the perfect opportunity for them to all go through their daddy’s things and pick out the special items they wanted to keep. All she kept was his hat with that precious hand-rolled cigarette and his favorite roping saddle. He’d once joked that he was at home in that saddle more than any place on earth. Until they’d settled on their ranch together.

Her heart suddenly dropped like a stone into a bottomless pit. Was Jeb homesick for California? Maybe he was thinking about going back for good. He’d never been back to Texas except for Ty’s funeral. “You’re not thinking about moving back to California, are you?”

“My home’s where you are, as long as you’ll have me. But I do need to go back to L.A. for a few days.”