Jackson's POV
How is it that even with a scowl, messy hair, and day's old makeup that Amara Brady could pull me to my knees. If her safety weren't a factor I was tempted to drop down on them and beg for her forgiveness for my treatment of her the night before. But as I refrained at least one hundred times from coming to her room that I paced behind the door that separated us, I could find the strength in addressing her now. But for the moment her eyes seemed to feed off of my naked chest-that was a bit harder to ignore.“Why did you bring me here?” She asked as if suddenly some CEO of some kind with fingers folded in wait for an answer.“I was tired.” I was short with my answer, hoping she would be too annoyed to dig into more details.“Tired from throwing away the candles? Maybe the flowers? The book looked kind of heavy…” Dammit. I didn't think she was going to go full raccoon in the night and find any of that.“Must have been from the ownersAmara's POV It was a tortured silence as we made our way to the private airstrip just outside of the city. I wanted to apologize and be apologized to but all I could think about was what happened in that kitchen before we left. More specifically what could have happened if we weren't interrupted. As infuriating as it was to be both a captive and a willing hostage, I was constantly torn between trusting Jackson and wanting to get the upper hand over him. Maybe figure out a way to dethrone my father from his patriarchy and find my freedom in a way that didn't depend on me marrying someone else. But all I could think about were Jackson’s hands holding mine flat. His tense body curved into my own. His breath at the shell of my ear as I turned to face him. As I said, completely infuriating. “Where are we even going?” I asked with frustration more on myself than him. “Away.” “That was helpful, thank you…You know if you wanted to be a-” I beg
Jackson's POV“I'm fine.” I urged as she had already made at least five trips through the entire plane to try and find the first aid kit. While my eyes shifted here and there on the instruments of the plane, she was on her sixth trek before I captured her hand on my own.“Maree…please…You're making me dizzy…”“You're burning up and are still actively bleeding! I'm not stopping until I-” The eureka moment spread across her face was enough to blaze a grin across my own. I basked in her happiness and wanting to be a part of it- wanting to be the cause of it.“Stay here.” I chuckled with the lack of a choice as she sped back into the cabin of the plane and returned with arms full of alcohol.“Uh…”“I wasn't sure if you were a whiskey guy or more of a vodka but…”“I'm not drinking when I still have to help you land this thing in a few hours.”“It's to help the infection.”
Amara's POV I woke up completely disoriented in an unfamiliar bed, a cold damp between my legs, and the scent of Jackson surrounding me at every turn. My cheeks flushed immediately as I understood the reason behind my ruined panties had been from the vivid wet dream. His scent was from the space we shared, I was certain. But how I got into this bed was a theory of his caring arms lifting me against him, despite his wound and his fever. And just like that the tension of my lust and sanity wound tight enough that I might as well have kept my fingers in place throughout the night as they did nothing to end this rigidity. Maybe I'd be lucky and he wouldn't remember the moment in the cockpit and we could go back to that dishonest distance. But I was never a lucky girl…“Sorry-” He uttered when coming out from the cockpit, crashing into my chest and I was returned to the visions of last night's dream. Tangled sheets and heavy breathing were on a repe
Jackson's POVI shouldn't have done it but I needed to take the edge off. I didn't intend to until I saw those damn panties hanging over the shower and I had to hold them to be closer to her. I behaved until then, at least to a desperate man's standards, and convinced myself it was a reward of sorts. But now I could barely look her in the eye with how risky I'd been. What if she heard me? She'd be disgusted no doubt. I needed to keep myself under a damn microscope to not rush against her and frighten her with how my body came alive to her touch. “We’re here.” I explained as we came to the apartment complex we'd be staying at until further notice. It was under an alias and private enough that the only staff was a single maid that came once a week to change out the plants and dust. Now it would be a place we shared. A place that was suddenly too small for how being close to her made every curve of her was a damn homing beacon. “Let me know what room you pick and
Amara’s POVThis was a far cry from the Jackson I knew, without question. There was a time I used to have to order for him when we split a pizza and now he was commanding a room with split reactions-all making him out to be intimidating. The men surrounding the medium sized table in the Spanish-style restaurant all evaded eye contact while those they chose in their arms were batting their lashes at my husband. I couldn't help but wonder if anybody here was forced into a marriage of convenience as well or if thar was simply our story. I didn't have much time to pick up on the details of distance before a specific introduction caught my attention.“Danielle Davenport.” Her talon nails extended as I simply stared. Jackson wrapped his arm around my waist, gently digging his nails into my hip as a way to make me behave. All it did was bring me closer to his side and painfully aware that he was dominant to a cruel advantage.“Jackson's wife.” I
Jackson's POVThis woman was going to be the death of me. If her dress tonight wasn't confirmation than for her attitude that left me wanting her and wanting to correct her in equal measure. It made me psychotic and possessive as I thought of all the things I would say to her once she realized she was left to depend on me to access our apartment. I should have made her wait but I had some pull in my stomach to keep her from lingering too long on her own as she had a habit of bringing unwanted attention to herself. She seemed oblivious to it tonight as I saw Danielle's husband look at her without apology and it took everything I had not to relieve him of the sense. If not for my wife's smart mouth, I might have. “You bitch!” A voice echoed in the stairwell I was forced to take. It was a male tone and it was enough to send me flying up the remaining steps. Once making it to the top, I threw the door open to reveal Andrew Fraser. “You think you can leave
Amara's POV Have you ever wanted something so badly that you couldn't comprehend going another second without it? Because with our proximity closed this tightly and his body almost trembling with anticipation, I couldn't see anything beyond making that closure. I wouldn't admit to anyone but myself just how desperately I wanted this. More than my next breath as a curiosity always remained of how he would taste, even when we were in that trying time of adolescence. Now, it was burning with an unstoppable rage that any reason to pull away was recycled into a reason to press forward. One of his hands managed to drop from my arms and to my waist, fitting into the curve, as the other lifted to my cheek. A soft thumb broke the trace of our mouths as he was careful over my wound. What once stung by the cruel air to broken skin was now aching in an absence of his mouth to mine-an absence that should have been impossible since contact was only in a whisper close.
Jackson's POVI couldn't sleep and if you ask my cock the angry bastard would tell you I was to blame. A beautiful, smart, sexy woman was offering to return the favor that still wore heavy on my tongue and I played the gentleman I denied us both seconds prior. And now I was solid and sleepless as I finally pulled the covers back and decided something in the kitchen may prove to be a distraction to my unintentional abstinence. “Shit!” Her voice broke the silence of the night as a smirk extended across my face. I watched her for a short while as she was loosely covered in one of my dress shirts with an exposed elbow she had to fix each time gravity tugged at it. The naked shoulder was begging for my lips as I ran my tongue over them at the memory of her coconut scented skin taunting me. “Come on!” She was using a long spatula to try and get a specific glass from a top shelf way beyond her reach. The curse came from her having knocked three over in the process, o
Jackson's POV“I'm so nervous…” Amara confessed while bouncing on her toes and bringing her fresh manicure to her teeth. I carried her hands gently to my lips for a kiss of calming as it seemed to work long enough for her to chastize me with a look alone. “You've worked hard for this and you've earned it. Pretty soon you'll have all of Massachusetts wearing “Lena”.” Her eyes swelled at the idea. Not because of her pride but because of how it honored her mother. Each model was set to exit with a shawl of her mother's favorite style which was an Easter egg of sorts to those who knew the detail. Like me. Like Leon. Even after the years since she was gone, he was hopelessly devoted to her. I understood the pull now more than ever. “Two minutes, Mrs Maldori.” The coordinator explained as I reached for the table behind us for the champagne I stole earlier. “Not that you need luck…” She looked at the drink before cocking her jaw to the side. “
Amara's POVOne. Silence. Two.Movement from the ground that settled a few seconds later. Three. Paranoia to every passing second that felt like an eternity for what was an encompassment of sixty seconds. Four. An eerie stillness that made every small sound from my restless body shifting in the car send my heart to pump overtime. Five. Not a second later and my feet were on the pavement towards the rear entrance he had taken. Just as my hand wrapped around the cold metal of the handle, I was pulled back by a brutal hand. “You're not going in there.” A familiar face from Jackson's brigade attempted to obey his boss's demands. “Try and stop me.” I tried for the door again. This time, he used both arms with a bruising force that gave me the motivation I needed to convince him to release me. “And how would Mister Maldori feel looking at my skin tonight and finding bruises because of you.” He clenched b
Amara’s POVI don't think I can ever get used to Jax Maldori. He is the alter ego of the man I held in my arms not even an hour ago. Jackson was shed and molded into this man dripping with confidence and commandments. His entire persona was demanding enough that not even security dared to check him for the weapons I saw him put beneath his sable clothes. And the women, they were openly ogling him. He scoffed to see me glare at one in particular that fixed her bust to appear more full for him and his response was to kiss my cheek and tug me tighter against him. “Focus, baby.” I fixed my own confidence as we came to a table layered with cigar smoke thick enough to choke on. I glared through the heaviness also affecting my eyes before he took a seat in the chair, guiding me onto his lap. “You know the rules, Maldori. No bitches while we play.” I went to speak but he pressed a firm hand on my open thigh under the table. “I'm not getting rid of my lucky cha
Jackson's POVIs it a problem that I prefer to stay awake long after she's fallen asleep just so I can admire her? The issue is that I can't decide if sleep is worth the lack of contact because my dreams are nothing compared to the reality of her. The scent of her hair and the memory of it wrapped around my wrist as I take her from behind. The satin skin in its perfect curvaceousness and the way she wears my marks so proudly. The trembling thighs and how they wrap around my waist or my face when my body begs to please her. The way her voice climbs to a crescendo in passion and defensiveness. I am enraptured. I am hopeless. I am truly a deviant for all this Amara Maldori. My cock is painful, tempted to slide between her legs in the middle of the night. If I hadn't already made her mine three times I would take her again. But her body was still recovering from how relentless we were to one another. I decided I was going to my office to ge
Amara’s POVIs it technically considered cabin fever if your walls of imprisonment consist of a six bedroom house on twelve acres? Because even if the sun came through the bay window of the reading nook I occupied more often than not or the food was prepared to the degree of award-winning, I was restless. The crutches were finally recycled last week and I was left with a heavy boot that made me limp from even the most basic of movements, and I was under intensive care of watchful eyes. None more precise than Jackson himself as he made it his mission to keep his focus on me throughout the day. “Baby!” He scolded as I was already halfway down the steps before he rushed to my arm. “I'm not glass…” I reminded but he didn't respond. We had already argued frequently about me being babied. He wouldn't even give me more than a peck on my cheek and that was with repetitive begging. In fact, this grip was the most intimate we had been for the last few months. “Y
Jackson’s POVThe problem with being obsessed with someone is that when they need to stand alone, you become disassembled from reality. You can't help but look at the time and its grueling pace, willing it faster until you can see them again. Even as the evidence of the time spent with her was still on my skin and in the sheets, I was itching to get her back here again. It wasn't going to be long, and it was necessary for her, but it still left me pacing since I pulled myself away from the sheets wearing her scent. One minute late wasn't a reason for concern. Thirty had me already dressed and moving towards my car in the private garage as Cutter's phone had gone unanswered along with hers. We allotted about an hour for the meeting which meant that she was already away from me for almost two. I tried to rationalize the silence as me overreacting, waiting for them to come through the door blaming traffic. But after fifteen minutes and my lack of patience, I was
Amara’s POVThree months later.I fiddled nervously with my recent manicure. Esmeralda insisted it would give me more respect but it had only become a nuisance since it dried yesterday.Everything felt out of place and everyone seemed to source me with a mutual sense of understanding- I did not belong here. Even if my maiden name was etched into the building towering over most in Boston, I was never meant to be at its helm. But with my father’s ‘disappearance’, I was the next of kin. This meant not only was I left to deal with the assets of his house, but also the business he left without a word. Until last week there had been a second-in-command. But since his death was announced in the paper, they were looking for someone to fill his rol
Jackson's POVHow did I manage from mauling her in the car? Your guess is as good as mine. If I wasn't already head over heels twice over for my wife, the way she was so brazen and jealous in front of Danielle was the solidifying property. Even now as she sat at my side in silence after I ignored her first question of where we were going, I had to touch her. My hand was set in possession on her thigh as if to keep her on the seat. All the while, I was fighting from making her paint my passenger seat with her cum for being a good little wife. But for the ways she defied both Cutter and me, she needed to learn there were consequences so she got silence and sexual postponement. There were three places I desperately wanted to take her. The first was too far away that I think my cock would actually burst if I had to wait that long. The second was close enough but was a bit too public for the depraved lesson she needed to learn. The third was going to be per
Amara’s POVMy feet couldn't move fast enough as I made my way into the lobby of the apartment complex. Still, it was fast enough to access the elevator without being stopped by the receptionist. The doors came closed in the final second and I began to transcend. Without a weapon. Or a plan. When the doors did come open, I found the apartment in a short disarray and the sight of motionless feet around the first corner. The same kinds of shoes all men in Jackson's line of work seemed to wear in their reflective sheen. I moved carefully around the corner before finding ironed pants stained with blood that came to an open torso riddled with even more crimson. Higher still was a face turned aside. As I lowered to verify who it was, a sudden force took me against them. A hand to my mouth and a thick corded arm around my torso, I was pulled to a familiar chest. It was made of the same stone that gave a contradicting comfort of a raging heart and a protective