Page 48 of The Jackal

"So, tell me," I said. "The walls. All of it. I've got the rest of my life to hear it, but I want to start now."

And he told me. Standing there in the gold light with the day still on him and his hand in my hair, he told me the shape of it, if not the whole of it—that he'd spent his life keeping everyone at the edge of the light on purpose. That a man who did the work he did couldn't afford a single soul on this earth whose loss could reach him, because the day one of them could reach him was the day he was no good to the ones who needed him steady. That he'd looked at me in Virginia Beach and understood, immediately and with something close to fear, that I was exactly the person who could get all the way in—that I looked at him and didn't step back, didn't go careful. And that a woman who could see him all the way down was the one woman who could cost him everything.

"So, I gave you a coin instead of myself," he said. "And I told myself it was the decent thing. It was the hardest decent thing I ever did, and I did it for you, and I'd have gone on doing it forever."

"What changed?"

"Everything." His thumb moved along my jaw. "I came here and the ground moved under me. I found out I have a home. A family. A place to put down and people to put down with. The leaving's done, Mags. I'm not a man passing through anymore. I'm a man with something to stay for." He looked at me like the whole world had narrowed to the space I took up in it. "Two somethings, if I'm counting the dog."

I laughed, undone, and he caught the sound the way he always did, like he wanted to keep it.

"Then, catch up the rest of the way," I whispered against his mouth. "I've been waiting long enough."

He kissed me.

Not the gentle, decent way a man kisses a woman he means to go slow with. He kissed me like the leaving really was done, like every wall he'd ever built had finally come down at once and there was nothing left holding him back from me. His hands were in my hair and then everywhere.

I got my fingers into the front of his shirt and pulled, and the sound he made low in his chest when my hands found bare skin was a sound I intended to spend the rest of my life earning. The scent of him flooded me—the day, the salt, the raw, unwashed maleness of him—and it undid the last thread of anything careful in me. I wanted all of him. Now. Filthy and unguarded and mine.

He turned me on the bed, his mouth never leaving mine, and lowered me down into the soft dark of it. He came down over me like something inevitable.

"I've got you," he murmured against my skin, already moving lower, his intent unmistakable. "Let me."

I felt the scrape of his stubble first, rough and perfect against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as he settled between them.

Cash didn't rush. He never did. His big hands spread me open with a reverence that made my breath catch—thumbs stroking slow circles over the crease where leg met body, like he was mapping every inch of territory he meant to claim.

The salt-and-cedar scent of him rose thick and heady. It wrapped around me like smoke, making my head spin.

"Look at you," he said, voice low and rough, almost awed. His breath ghosted over my slick folds, and I shivered. "Beautiful." One thick finger traced my entrance, teasing, not entering.

I reached down, threading my fingers through his short hair, gripping tight as he lowered his mouth. The first slow, flat lick from entrance to clit drew a broken sound from my throat.

He groaned against me, the vibration rolling through my core, and then he truly began—unhurried, thorough, worshipful. His tongue circled my clit with devastating patience, learning exactly how much pressure made my hips jerk, then sucking gently until my thighs trembled around his ears. He feasted like a man starved, like this was the only thing he'd ever wanted to do for the rest of his life.

"Cash—" I gasped, pulling his hair harder.

He answered by sliding a big finger deep inside me, curling it just right while his mouth stayed relentless on my clit. The stretch, the wet sounds of him devouring me, the low, reverent growls vibrating against my flesh—it was too much. I came apart hard, crying out his name as pleasure crashed through me in long, shuddering waves.

He didn't stop. He gentled his touch just enough to ease me down, then built me right back up again, tongue fucking into me alongside his finger, murmuring filthy praise between licks.

I shattered a second time, harder, my back arching off the bed as stars burst behind my eyes. He stayed with me through it, steady and possessive, until my legs were boneless and my hands were slack in his hair.

Only then, did he rise up over me, lips glossy, eyes dark and fierce and tender, all at once. He gathered me close for a moment, our foreheads pressed together, sharing breath. I could feel him, thick and hard against my thigh, but he held still, letting me come back to myself.

“I want you. In me,” I whispered, reaching between us to wrap my fingers around his cock. He was heavy, burning hot, the skin velvety over steel. A low groan tore from his chest at my touch.

"You sure?" His voice was gravel. "I won't be able to hold back once I'm inside you."

I nodded, tugging him closer. "I want all of you. Now."

He shifted, settling his hips between my thighs. He braced one forearm beside my head, the other hand guiding himself to my entrance. The blunt head of his cock nudged against my soaked folds, rubbing up and down, coating himself in my wetness. Then, he pushed in—slow, inexorable, stretching me open inch by thick inch.

The burn was exquisite. I gasped at the fullness, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Mags," he breathed, forehead dropping to mine. He sank deeper, bottoming out with a shared groan, our bodies locked together completely. For a long moment, he just stayed there, buried to the hilt, trembling with the effort of holding still. "You're mine. All mine."

He began to move then—deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside me. Unhurried at first, savoring, each stroke a deliberate claim. His mouth found mine in a messy, open kiss, tasting of me and desperation. The salt-and-cedar scent of his skin surrounded me as sweat slicked our bodies. One of his hands slid under my ass, tilting my hips to take him even deeper.