Savor the Danger
Page 42

Instead, she nodded. “Yes.” And almost as an afterthought, “Please.”
God, she wanted to use him. For sexual pleasure. Her pleasure.
She’d just flat-out admitted it.
He felt like a lab rat—a really, really turned-on lab rat. Anticipating everything she might want to try, the explorations that came to mind had him sweltering with need.
Jackson pushed everything to the side of the table and reached across it for her.
He’d always known he had a breaking point—and Alani, bless her innocent little heart, had just found it.
CHAPTER NINE
ONE MINUTE JACKSON had her half over the table, his hands clamped onto her upper arms as he devoured her mouth with enough intensity to press back her head, leaving her helpless in his embrace.
In the next instant, he was on her side of the picnic table, stationed in front of her as if to shield her with his now tensed body.
But from what?
In his right hand, he held a steak knife. She recognized the lethal way he gripped it from demonstrations given to her by her brother.
Alani tried to adjust to the new circumstance. She didn’t even know how he’d gotten to her side of the table so quickly. She definitely didn’t know why he wielded a knife. “What the—”
“Go inside.”
The hard command brooked no arguments, but she couldn’t seem to budge without knowing why he wanted her gone. She tried to see over his shoulder, but got a glimpse of only her yard—no threats. “Jackson, what in the world is—”
Her ex-boyfriend, Marc Tobin, poked his head around the side of the house.
When he saw them, he drew up short, startled.
They stared at each other. Marc’s gaze went from Alani to all over Jackson, and no way could he miss Jackson’s aggressive mood.
“Marc.” Alani had to speak from behind Jackson, since he wouldn’t let her move around in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
Not since telling him, indisputably, that they were done had she heard from Marc. Their relationship hadn’t ended well, not that there’d ever been much of a relationship to begin with. But she couldn’t see Marc as dangerous. Annoying, yes, but he wouldn’t hurt her.
“I knocked.” His dark eyes went from Jackson to what little he could see of Alani on tiptoe looking over Jackson’s shoulder, and back again.
Already, Jackson had relaxed his stance, flipping the knife around so that instead of it being gripped as a weapon, he held it as a utensil.
But his other hand continued to keep Alani at his back.
Indignant, disapproving, Marc took another step toward them. “What’s going on here? Alani, are you all right?”
She peeked again—and saw that Marc looked ready to jump to her unnecessary defense. If she let that happen, Jackson would annihilate him. She didn’t have a single doubt.
“I’m fine.” She pinched Jackson hard on the rump and said with insistence, “Excuse me,” as she stepped around him.
Jackson, who was focused on Marc with burning intensity, jumped from the goose. “Ow, woman.” Blindly he reached for and found her wrist to keep her at his side. To Marc, he said, “You’re interrupting our dinner.”
The rudeness appalled her. Once again, Alani made use of her elbow; this time, it had no discernable effect on Jackson. He stood there, a large immovable object, his gaze a laser of dislike aimed at Marc.
“Oh, for the love of—” She didn’t want to cause more of a scene, so she pasted on a smile. “Marc, I’m sorry, but obviously you’ve caught me at a bad time.”
“It was a great time,” Jackson drawled, “until he showed up.”
“I see now.” Marc put his hands on his hips, his aggression pulsing off him in waves. “You left me for him.”
“I was never with you,” Alani reminded him. “We dated a few times, that’s all.”
“I wanted more.”
Yes, he’d wanted sex. When he wouldn’t take no for an answer, she’d ended things. “That was never going to happen, and you know it.”
“Because you were f**king him, is that it?”
The crude insult stunned her. “You’re way out of line.”
That Jackson remained silent was nothing short of a miracle. But then, maybe he didn’t mind letting Marc make an ass of himself.
Dressed in a pullover and black slacks that showed off his trim, muscular build, Marc looked as impeccable as always. He also looked petulant.
Somehow he ran a hand over his styled, dark hair without mussing it at all. “I need to talk to you, honey. Alone.”
Jackson said, “Ain’t happening,” and when Alani tried to step forward, he amended that to, “She has nothing to say to you, pal. Tough breaks, but that’s how it goes.”
God, she would kill Jackson. Later. Glaring up at him, she said, “Let me go.”
His eyes narrowed, but his shrug looked casual enough as he opened his hand and released her.
Apologetic, Alani took a few steps toward Marc. “You remember Jackson Davidson?”
“We met,” Marc agreed, not looking away from her. He wore a deliberately tortured expression. “Couldn’t we find a little privacy?”
Knowing that wouldn’t happen, not with Marc being a potential suspect, no matter how ridiculous she found that to be, Alani made her excuses. Voice low, she said, “Marc, it’s over between us. There’s nothing more to say.”