“Lucky me.” She heard the door open behind her and knew immediately that Jack had stepped into the room. He’d been working on the heavy bag. She smelled sweat and blood and the tangy masculine scent that sent her hormones into overdrive. She swung around, her gaze jumping to his, her heart pounding in her throat.
“Smells good,” Jack commented, his gray eyes watching her closely. He crossed directly to her side, never once looking away.
Jack held her gaze captive. Briony felt mesmerized by him-was mesmerized. Her heart beat so hard she was afraid she might have a heart attack, but she didn’t dare lift her hand to press against her chest; she was trembling too hard to hide. He bent his head to hers and brushed her upturned lips. Once-twice. “I’m sorry, baby. I was angrier with myself than with you. I should have given you specific instructions on where you should or shouldn’t go. I’m sorry I frightened you.” He kissed her again, so gently her heart did a funny little somersault and soft wings brushed the inside of her stomach.
“What did you do to your hands?” She caught his wrists and turned his hands over to inspect his knuckles.
“I’m fine. Let me get cleaned up for dinner.”
“I’ll do it,” Briony said decisively, leading him back to his wing of the house. “Next time you decide to wig out on me, wrap your hands.”
“Wig out?” His eyebrow shot up. He wasn’t going to admit that there was a certain satisfaction in pounding flesh until it bled. She already had enough to condemn him.
He let her wash and apply antibiotic cream to his wounds, enjoying the way she touched him, her hands gentle and her eyes shy. In the close confines of the bathroom, with her clean scent enfolding him, his body zinged out of control, tightening and pulsing, blood engorging his groin. “I’m going to take a quick shower before dinner, and tonight, Ken does the dishes. You need to rest.” He’d opt for a cold shower, but he doubted it would do much good.
Briony noticed the baby book was on the bed and bookmarked as she went through the bedroom on her way to the kitchen. Sometime during the day he must have retrieved it from the dresser and had been avidly reading again. She smiled to herself, secretly pleased. She hoped he found all her additional comments enlightening.
The entire time she’d been attending Jack’s knuckles, all she could think about was running her hands over his chest, his belly, dipping lower to feel the hard strength of his very evident erection. She loved that she could do that to him, and most of the time she could block out the thought that Dr. Whitney had orchestrated the intensity of the chemistry between them.
She avoided Ken’s eyes as she sat down. “Quit smirking.”
“I’ve never heard him apologize. I wanted to record it, just to play back later so I’d know I hadn’t lost my mind. He just might really get on his knees and propose,” Ken said. “And the biscuits are great by the way. If Jack doesn’t get out here soon, I’m eating them all. Every last one.” To prove his point he dipped one in gravy.
Briony shook her head. “How did you survive before I was here?”
“I don’t know. You’re not just an angel, you’re a goddess. A woman ought to know how to cook just to qualify to be a woman.”
Briony choked on her milk. “And you think your brother is a chauvinist! Really, Ken, I ought to dump all the food in the garbage for that statement. Why haven’t you learned to cook?”
“I can cook. I get by; I just don’t cook like this,” Ken said. “And of course I’m a chauvinist, but it isn’t my fault.”
“It isn’t?”
“No, Jack was born first and I share his genes. I can’t help it if he infected me inside the womb.”
Briony burst out laughing. “I should have known that would be your excuse.”
Jack stood in the doorway, leaning one hip against the jamb, toweling his hair dry while he listened to Briony and Ken bantering back and forth. She sounded happy, easy in her relationship with Ken already. Ken could do that. He genuinely liked people and they liked him. Briony looked past his scars and seemed to see the man Jack saw, the one to be respected and loved. Jack could see that Ken was relaxed and even happy in Briony’s company.
Jack examined his feelings closely. Maybe there was a twinge of jealousy, but not because of the shared laughter and the way the two seemed to be growing closer, but because Ken was the better man and she deserved better.
Briony was reaching for the coffeepot when he stepped all the way into the room. “It clearly states no caffeine,” Jack said.
Her gaze jumped to his face. “No it doesn’t. I read the entire book and it’s not in there anywhere. You’ll have to read it again.”
“You will.” He pulled a red marker from his pocket and held it up. “The book is the latest edition, with new and important text.”
She flashed a small, shy smile at him at their shared intimacy.
Ken reached for another biscuit, and a knife sliced through the air to bury itself in the table half an inch from his hand.
“Back off, biscuit thief.”
Briony rolled her eyes. “Great, Jack. You’d better not be doing that in front of the baby.”
“Babies,” both men corrected simultaneously.
“Wonderful, surround sound,” Briony complained.
Jack pulled the blade from the table and slipped it back into the scabbard at his belt. “She said I wigged out, bro. You ever see me wig out?”
Ken coughed into his napkin, nearly choked, and had to have Jack slap his back. Jack’s hand went to his brother’s shoulder and squeezed briefly before he sat down.
CHAPTER 15
Briony watched Jack as he padded barefoot around the dark room. He had stayed up late reading, mostly, she was certain, in the hopes that she’d be asleep when he got to bed. Her close proximity had to be just as hard on him as being continually surrounded by his scent was on her. It was hard to lie in his bed and not fantasize about him.
“You should be asleep,” he said abruptly, standing over her.
His shoulders looked wide, arms sculpted with defined muscle, and in the darkness she couldn’t see the hideous name carved into his chest. He was breathtaking. Her pulse kicked up a notch. “So should you.”
He stood for a moment, just looking down at her, almost hesitant. “You took your vitamins today, didn’t you?”
He slipped into bed beside her-not under the covers, but on top, giving her a measure of privacy, but no real reprieve from the sexual need clawing at her so sharply. The moonlight caught him for just a moment, and his eyes gleamed silver, ice cold, and devoid of emotion, as if he’d stepped back away from her.
“You’ve been reading that book again, haven’t you?” she accused.
“It’s a good book, very informative, especially with all the new additions to it. I think we should find one specifically about carrying twins.”
“You’re just evil. You know I don’t want to think about twins. Every time you mention it, and you’ve got your brother doing the same thing, I get a stomachache.”
His eyes laughed at her. Laughed. Briony’s breath caught in her throat. How could eyes so flat and cold and devoid of emotion one moment be warm and bright and move over her with such raw passion the next?
“Jack.” She said his name and heard the ache.
He heard it too. She watched his face change, go hard, go blank, the light fading away. He lay back down close to her, but she felt his body tremble.
“Briony.” Jack’s voice was tight, maybe a little too husky, but he couldn’t sound indifferent or casual when he was going to make one last attempt to do the right thing. “I want you to hear me out and really listen to me for once.”
Her hand found his in the darkness. Comfort? An offer? Fear? He didn’t know, because he wasn’t opening his mind to her, not when he knew that what he was going to say would run her off. He wouldn’t be able to bear her terror of him, her disgust of him-disgust of the monster he knew himself to be. Her fingers tangled with his, closed around his as if holding him close. He shut his eyes and reached for inner strength. Why was it easier to talk after night closed in?