Page 82 of Speechless
“Sure thing. Things will be okay, Connor.” Files in hand, the agent left Connor alone in the room. A few moments later, the door shut quietly, and he heard the locks engage. He closed his eyes and rested his head back.
Normally, he’d rush upstairs after her, prepared to do his soothe and protect routine, but today…she hadn’t clung to him, looking for comfort. She’d walked away, regained a touch of her independence, and he was thankful for it. Relieved she was able to tackle her emotions alone.
On the other hand, he felt fucking useless.
Alone, he dissected his thoughts. All three hundred of them. Part of him wished Jenna would see her family—the poor bastards deserved to have their lost daughter and sister returned to them. He couldn’t imagine the horror of one of his brothers disappearing without a trace, not knowing for nearly three years whether or not he was dead.
He might not think kindly of Caleb at the moment, but the asshole was still his brother. The same blood ran through their veins, their lives meshed at nearly every turn until Caleb went to college, then the police academy. They’d drifted apart, sure, but Connor didn’t doubt for a second he’d move heaven and earth to find his eldest brother in that situation.
How much worse was it for a daughter to go missing? The odds were higher a woman would be mistreated—just as Jenna had been—and weight stacked the scales on the side of rape and murder.
He was surprised it hadn’t driven her parents insane with worry.
He struggled with hope and guilt. The pair created a messy conundrum within him—Jenna’s adamant refusal to be reunited with her family meant the chances were high she’d stay with him. Deriving hope from that sent guilt ricocheting through his brain like a manic ping pong ball on turbo power.
He couldn’t, wouldn’t deny it. Jenna was his, and he would do anything to keep her beside him—as long as it remained whatshewanted. If she changed her mind, made the decision to return to Colorado with her folks…he wouldn’t stop her. She’d leave him with a gaping, bloody chest wound where his heart once beat, but he wouldn’t stop her from making that choice.
How could he, when all her choices over the last two and a bit years had been stripped from her? At the heart of things, although he made mistakes just as well as any other man, he was a moral creature. Right was right, wrong was wrong. Sure, there were gray areas, there always were, but not here. Not with this.
Discovering his mental process was making him depressed, Connor slapped himself out of it and slipped on his Daddy face as he pushed to his feet and made his way upstairs, leaving the family picture on the chair. He expected to find her curled under the covers, thumb in comfort position, Moose under her arms, and Luna on guard.
Surprised to find her sitting in the middle of the bed, knees drawn up to her chin, he stepped into the bedroom without saying a word. Her eyes lifted to his, swollen and red, and she offered him a sigh heavy enough to give him a glimpse into the weight on her shoulders.
“I was rude.”
Luna grumbled again, obviously disgruntled as she slipped off the big bed and into her own on Jenna’s side. She thumped down, propped her head on the plush edge, and huffed in disapproval.
“No, baby.” Connor slipped onto the mattress beside Jenna. “Being rude and being overwhelmed are two different things. This is a lot for you to think about.”
“I don’t want to think.”
Her face turned up to his, eyes pleading. He couldn’t stop himself from skimming his fingertips over the shell of her ear, wiping away the tear tracks. Kissing that sweet, lush mouth until a moan mingled between them both.
As he did every time they were in bed together, Connor asked, “You’re sure this is what you want?” And as always, her consent gave him a thrill in the blood even drugs couldn’t mimic.
Her clothes were gone in seconds, thrown across the room and followed swiftly by his own. Her mouth beckoned to him again and he plundered, drawing her down the bed as his lips slanted over hers, his body angled over her.
That tiny, talented hand grasped his shaft at the root, tightening with just the right amount of pressure to take him from hard to insanely primed.
Connor moved over her, nuzzling her neck and shoulders, lips teasing a heated trail over her skin. She shuddered, eyes a little wild now, and mewled as he swiped his tongue over her brand. He made a point now to lavish attention on the ugly scar, rather than show revulsion. Not that it repulsed him—nothing about Jenna could alter his perception of a strong, brave, sexy woman.
Hisstrong, brave and ridiculously fucking sexy woman.
“I love you, Jenna. Don’t ever forget that.”
*
Her heart was a crazy thing in her chest, beating beneath his lips where he whispered words he’d never truly comprehend how much they meant to her.
Lost in the frenzy of love and desire, she clutched his shoulders, nails—healthy and smooth now—biting into the thick muscles as his mouth shifted from brand to nipple. Her breath exploded out on a cry as teeth nipped one sensitive bud and fingers pinched the other.
Two lines of fire ripped into her belly, joining together to hit her clit like lightning. Her hips jerked, arched to press her wet center against the steel of his cock, slicking the heavy shaft with wetness.
Connor’s face dropped between her breasts as his pelvis thrust in response, his erection sliding along her sex, teasing her wickedly. “Not yet, Jenna. We need to slow down.”
“No.” Her hands ran up his neck, over the cords already standing out, to cup his face and lift it. Clean-shaven today, smooth and soft. “No more slow, Connor.”
His lips quirked. “Bossy little madam.”