Page 88 of Rescuing Rebecca
The unlocked door.
Just in case…
Jesus Christ! She was losing her mind. For real this time. Jay was injured. Asleep in the clinic. And here she lay, two floors above him, wide awake and wishing he’d walk in. Tell her to slide over, like he used to. Put his body between her and the exit, because that’s what he always did before wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her in tight to his chest.
Before he kissed her. Before he…well, that’s what he used to do.
Back before Maya…
No. She shook her head, and the noise of her hair rustling against the cotton pillowcase sounded loud in her ear. She didn’t want to think about her sister. Not here. Not while she lay in Jay’s bed. She threw the sheets off and stood in the dark room.
She could reach to her right. Turn on the table lamp. She didn’t need to. She knew the bedroom’s layout. Knew exactly where the exit was located. How many steps it took to reach the door to the walk-in closet. Had already examined the windows and estimated the distance to the ground.
The jump wouldn’t kill her, but the height guaranteed injuries preventing escape.
Not that she wanted to escape. Not yet. She didn’t know what she wanted.
Okay, not true. She wanted Jay. Wanted him close enough she could touch him. Hold his hand. Smell his scent. Hear each lungful of air he took. Watch his chest rise and fall, and know in her heart, he was alive, safe, and in the same room—with her.
Her mind still struggling to catch up to what had transpired over the last forty-eight hours, confusion plagued her. Was this real? Had Jay come for her? Had he shot Roman in the stomach for simply daring to touch her? Had he sacrificed himself for her? Driven a dirt bike off the very cliff she’d stood on the edge of a hundred times, just so she could live?
The blood pounding through her veins set her feet in motion. She needed to see him. Needed reassurance in the form of physical contact that she hadn’t dreamed him into existence. She entered the closet. Smacked her hand against the wall switch. The overhead light came on.
She needed to cover up. Put something on over the bra-lined racerback tank she’d been given to wear along with a pair of black yoga pants. Thoughtful. Adam had said they belonged to Eve when he’d scooped them off the kitchen table. And while she felt weird about wearing another woman’s gym gear, she was grateful at the same time.
Almost empty, the closet held very little in the way of clothing. A jumble of T-shirts jammed into one of the open cubes, a couple of pairs of pants on the shelf below, and four sweatshirts haphazardly hung.
She chose the biggest, most faded hoodie, and pulled it free. The wooden hanger clacked against the others as she held the soft fabric under her nose. She breathed deep, and the fresh scent reminded her of the time Jay had fucked her on the laundry room dryer in his stepfather’s old boxing club.
Jeez, they’d taken a risk. Anyone could’ve walked in. Caught them in the act. Jay with his pants around his knees. Her with her bare legs wrapped around his waist, the warm dryer vibrating beneath her while he pounded into her, making her come with reckless abandon. Multiple times.
Oh God! Her pussy throbbed. Throbbed. She didn’t have sex. Didn’t get wet. Didn’t fantasize about being fucked by any man. Not even Jay. Those thoughts led to nightmares and despair.
Shit.
She had to see him. Be near him. Nothing more.
Turning her back to the full-length mirror, she threw the shirt on over her head. She didn’t want to see Maya’s tattoos on her skin. Not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to be Becca. Just Becca. The Becca who wore her boyfriend’s sweatshirts because they smelled like him and made her feel special. Like she belonged to someone.
No. Not someone. She swept her hand beneath her hair and pulled it free from the neck hole. She belonged to Jay. Always had. Always would.
Whether he wanted her or not—didn’t matter—he owned her. Possessed her. He’d claimed her body, heart, and soul with every steamy glance, every dirty word whispered, every loving caress, and he’d never given a single piece of her back.
She’d completely forgotten who she was without him and had no clue who she was now that he was back in her life. But one thing for sure—she needed to be close to him if she wanted to have any hope of falling asleep.
Decision made, and decent enough to walk the halls, she left the closet and crossed the floor to the door where she hesitated, her fingers hovering over the knob. What if he didn’t want her? Not in the clinic? Not in his house? Not in his life?
What if the key to Dominion was all that mattered to him? What if?—
Fuck it. Who cared? Why he wanted her, why he’d come for her, didn’t change how she felt about him. Didn’t change the history between them. She twisted the handle, opened the door, and her heart leapt into her throat at the same time her stomach dropped to her bare feet.
Jay.
Naked to the waist, one arm in a dark blue sling, the other in the air about to knock, he looked as startled as she to find themselves standing face-to-face. “Can’t sleep?” they asked at the same time.
She shook her head.
He dropped his arm. “Me either.”
