“He got worse and worse, to the point where she hid us when he was drunk. He wanted us dead because we took her love away from him, because we took her time. She thought about us, tried to do for us, and God help her, she loved us. He was jealous even of his own children. Eventually she tried to leave him-for us-and he killed her.”

“Oh God, Jack. How terrible.”

“I walked outside the little shack she’d found for us and saw him standing over her with her blood covering him and the baseball bat in his hands. Ken had come up on him first and was covered in blood. He was still swinging the bat at Ken. Blood was everywhere, all over the ground, smeared on the steps, splashed on the walls, and Ken’s arms were broken-both of them.” Jack held up his hands. “I don’t even know how it got on me-probably when I jumped him to get him off of Ken, but I remember her blood on me, Ken’s blood.” He shook his head as if to clear his vision. “It was everywhere.”

She wanted to comfort him-soothe him, hold him in her arms-but there was no way to give a child comfort when he found his beloved mother murdered, and right at them moment, Jack was a young boy reliving his mother’s murder.

“I swear, I felt something in me snap, Briony. I told Ken to run, but he didn’t-he didn’t-he wouldn’t leave me.” He pressed his fingertips to his temples. “You can never wipe the memory away, no matter what you do. You can never forget the smell of blood, or the hatred in someone’s eyes. He wanted to kill us, and if he hadn’t been so greedy to make us pay-because of course it was our fault he’d had to kill her-he would have succeeded.”

Briony bit down hard on her lip to keep from allowing the small sound of horror to escape her throat. Jack was seeing every vivid detail, so much so that it was spilling over into her mind as well.

“He came at me so fast-he was always so fast-and big.” Jack looked at her. “Like me. Damn him to hell, just like me. Big beefy shoulders and arms-natural muscle, not from working out in a gym. He was strong. When he hit me, I knew he meant to kill me. She wasn’t there to stop him, and he was going to beat me to death with his bare hands. I tried to fight back, and instead of running, Ken jumped on his back to keep him off of me. Even with two broken arms, Ken tried to defend me. When I went down, my father kept hitting and kicking me, until I couldn’t breathe. I think he thought, with so much blood, and the sound of the breath rattling in my lungs and throat, that I was dying. He left me there, lying in my mother’s blood, and he turned on Ken. Ken could have gotten away, but he wouldn’t leave me.”

“Any more than you would have left him,” Briony reminded him.

“I don’t know how I got up, or where I found the strength to move, but my body had somehow separated from my mind. I didn’t feel pain. I don’t know if I was really breathing. Later, they said my ribs were caved in and it was impossible for me to stand, but I did. I could see Ken’s face, the tears running down through all the blood. And I saw him-the monster who ruled our lives. My world narrowed to him. I picked up the baseball bat and I took him out just the way I take out every other target-coldly, precisely, and quite thoroughly.”

“God, Jack.”

“I didn’t feel anything at all. I should have, he was my father, but I didn’t, Briony. I didn’t-and don’t-feel remorse or horror or even joy or satisfaction that he’s dead. I felt nothing then and I don’t feel anything now. When I line up a target, it’s always that same way. My mind separates and it’s nothing more than a job.”

She turned on her side, easing her body against his, sliding her arm around him. “You feel remorse when you’ve done something that hurts Ken-or me. I’ve seen it in you. You’re careful with both of us. Is that what you’re afraid of, Jack? That you won’t love the baby and that if I walked out you’d follow us and murder us? Is that really what you think you’d do? You’d try to stop us?”

“Babies,” he corrected automatically. “And I wouldn’t try, Briony, I would stop you.” He sighed, the sound more sorrowful than hopeful. “I wanted you to have a decent man.”

“You wouldn’t murder us, Jack. It’s unbelievable that you could conceive of such a thing. You wouldn’t. It isn’t in you. Of course you’d try to stop us if you loved us. Any man would. You are a decent man, you dope. You’re just a difficult man. There’s a difference. And has it ever occurred to you that you’re so afraid you’re like your father that you examine your motives way too much? People get jealous and possessive and some try to hold on too hard. You know your weaknesses and strengths. Maybe you’d go a little overboard to keep a woman you love with you, but you’d never harm her. Never, Jack. I don’t think it-I know it with absolute certainty.”

“I frighten you sometimes.”

“Everything frightens me sometimes. I’m ashamed to admit to you that I’m pretty much the biggest chicken on the face of the earth. You’re an intimidating man-a little on the ruthless side-and I never know what you’re going to do.”

“Or what I’m capable of.”

“I may not know what you’re capable of, Jack, but I do know what you’re not capable of. I’m a good judge of character and I’ve been in your head. You’re not capable of murdering a woman-especially one you love. As for the babies, Jack, you would never harm your own children. You’d die to protect them. You’re so far from being your father you don’t even know it.”

“I love you just the way you are, but I’d want to dominate you, insist on you doing everything my way.”

“Like I’m not aware of that? I was raised with four brothers, Jack. While I don’t consider myself submissive, I also don’t argue for the sake of it. If it’s really important to me, I’ll let you know, and if you don’t back off, I’ll probably do it anyway and you can yell all you want.”

His eyes met hers, and there was something dark and dangerous flickering there, but looking beyond that, there was something else. Something deep and enduring, an emotion she wanted to wrap herself in.

“I’m giving you a last out, Briony. I’ll get the other team to take care of you. You can stay with Lily. It’s a fortress there. She’s an anchor. You won’t feel any pain around the others.”

“I’m not with you because you’re an anchor.”

“Damn it, Briony, are you listening to anything I’ve said? If you stay with me, I’ll never let you go. I’ll make you crazy… ”

“It’s a nice kind of crazy, but if you don’t want me here… ”

He actually snarled, like a wolf. She heard the growl of anger and his hand caught hers and forced it between his legs to rub over his aching, full erection. “Does it feel like I don’t want you? I can’t think straight with wanting you, and damn it, it isn’t all about sex either. Whitney may think he overdosed us with the right pheromones, but it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that. My need of you, this monster of a hard-on, comes from my heart, not just from lust.”

There was a moment, a heartbeat, when she didn’t think she’d have the courage to seduce him, to take what she wanted, but then her will took over, conquering fear as it always did. She wouldn’t let Jack Norton slip away from her because she was afraid of the unknown. She wanted him with every breath she took, not because of the craving clawing through her body and making her br**sts feel swollen and achy, but because she saw inside him and loved and needed what and who he was.

“Jack,” she said softly. “You always come to bed with too many clothes on. Do you think you could do something about that for me?”

He wasn’t wearing a shirt, but he had put on the soft flannel drawstring pants in concession to her modesty. His breath hitched and his body stilled, gray eyes moving over her face with something close to hope, something close to despair, and such a dark intensity of raw desire it robbed her of breath.

“You have to be sure this is what you want, baby,” he said, even as he pushed the offending material from his body. He wasn’t strong enough to keep her safe. He wanted her so bad he could feel her in his bones, right through his skin. He’d wanted her since the moment he’d seen her again, and the longer they were together, the more he knew she was right for him.

Part of him, the sane part, nearly pushed her away, knowing the outcome, but self-preservation kicked in, and he lay back, letting her hands caress his body, with soft, sweeping strokes that sent shudders of pleasure down his spine. Save me, then, Briony, but God help you, I hope you know what you’re doing.

Her breath slid over him, teased his senses, heightened his sexual needs. She kissed his chin, nibbled for a moment, and then trailed kisses down his chest, over his scars, down his belly, until he couldn’t find a way to breathe adequately. Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips to a silken slide. He couldn’t think clearly anymore, could only gasp when her tongue curled around the thick length of his erection and began long, slow licks, as if she were savoring an ice cream. I’ve never really done this, so if I do it wrong, tell me.

There is no doing it wrong. If you don’t enjoy it… She was killing him with that hot, wet mouth now, so tight, tongue moving and flicking with tiny teasing strokes that nearly took the top of his head off. She kissed her way down his shaft and across his tight balls, tongue going on a little foray that had his teeth coming together and a moan escaping. For someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing, you’re doing a damn good job of it.

I’m just following the little fantasy in your head.

Hell. He didn’t know he could fantasize that well. His imagination could never have taken him over the way her mouth was doing. She did little figure eights back up his rigid shaft and suddenly engulfed him, suckling, drawing the ragged breath from his body. Her mouth tightened again, sucked and tormented, this time sliding slowly down him almost to her throat. Electricity sizzled along his thickening cock. He was so hard he thought he might explode, but he didn’t-couldn’t-stop her.

It was more than the sensations her mouth created, it was her enjoyment, the obvious pleasure she took in loving him. He felt it in her-there was no faking it, and Briony was definitely enjoying herself. More than enjoying herself, she was getting hot and wet, her h*ps moving in an automatic rhythm to the glide of her mouth.

Her tongue lashed him with heat, circled, and probed, and then she was suckling again, and he couldn’t stop the streaks of lightning racing through his body, or the need to take control. His hands fisted in her hair, pulling her head back to just the perfect angle so he could watch as he thrust deeper into her mouth, so he could take over the direction and pace.

She hesitated, and he tasted the fear in her mind at the loss of control over the situation. That’s so good, baby, so good. Relax for me, you can do this. He pulled back, groaning as the erotic sensations rocketed through his body. He thrust deeper, holding her in place, the sight of his c**k disappearing into the velvet heat of her mouth nearly driving him over the edge. Harder. That’s it, baby. Harder. She was killing him and he couldn’t stop, couldn’t be gentle with her with his balls tightening and thunder roaring in his ears. He was going to explode down her throat.

He wanted to savor this moment, keep it in his memory for all time, but it was far too late, she was stroking his sac, gripping the base of his shaft as he thrust deep, and he felt the fire race up his spine and spread, spread hot and searing through him, until he was exploding, yelling hoarsely, as his shaft erupted in hot, spurting jets. Even then he couldn’t let her go, holding her to him, so that he honestly didn’t know if she was suckling him dry or he was forcing her to accept him.

Briony choked and then swallowed, her gaze holding nothing but longing, shy sensuality, a lingering doubt that she hadn’t pleased him. Acceptance of who he was. His peculiar need to dominate and control every situation. There was no distaste, or repugnance, not even a shadow lurking in her mind-only her wanting to give him pleasure.