The kiss comes to a slow, tantalizing end that makes me want to whimper when Jasper breaks the contact. And then I’m free. Free to breathe, free to speak. Free to think and see and hear, but I don’t. I don’t do any of those things. I can only feel, like the residual sting of a burn. A burn so good.
“Jesus H. Christ!” he mumbles, rasping his cheek over mine, his breath tickling my ear.
I want to beg him for more. I want to know what he’s thinking. Why he did that. What’s to become of me since meeting him. Because I know I won’t ever be quite the same. I have no reason to suspect that, only pure intuition. A feeling. A strong one.
He raises his head, but he doesn’t push me away, which further surprises me. He just stands, holding me against him, staring down into my eyes.
I watch Jasper watch me, both of us reeling from the heat of that kiss. But then, to my bewildered amazement, I see his expression harden little by little until I can’t see what he’s feeling anymore. I just watched him bury it. Purposefully. Resolutely. The strange this is, I know it’s still there.
It has to be.
Doesn’t it?
“Let’s go get a couple of rooms,” he says in a hoarse voice.
The Jasper of moments ago is now hidden, hidden beneath a matter-of-fact exterior, smothered beneath unruffled feathers. Meanwhile, my world is still rocked and my feathers are still standing on end all over my body.
What the hell just happened?
I’ve never witnessed such absolute control. It’s a bit mindboggling, which is why I pay no attention to the muted greens of the lobby or the broad smile of the twentysomething girl behind the counter when we enter the lobby. It’s also why I pay no attention to what Jasper is saying or how the clerk responds. I stand off to myself, a few feet behind him. Thinking.
I’m spinning with sensation, which opens the door to more sensation. Thoughts war, feelings battle, guilt descends. I realize with utter dismay that I forgot all about my father, all about my woes twice within a thirty-six hour period. Granted it was only for a few seconds, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. What kind of woman lets a man so totally consume her?
One who’s never met a man like Jasper.
I’m shaken from my troublesome musings when the object of my turmoil turns and hands me a thin envelope with a number scribbled on the front. “You can have 213. It has a view of the pool.”
“Where will you be?”
“Right next door, beside the stairwell.” Something tells me he arranged that on purpose. I bet he’s one of those guys who likes to sit facing the door in a restaurant, too. It makes me wonder all the more what goes on inside his head. I can’t imagine a more complex man. “You can go on up. I’ll get our stuff.”
I nod, wanting to say something, but knowing it will do me no good. Besides, I don’t even know what I’d say. I have only questions. Lots and lots of questions. And Jasper is anything except willing to answer them.
I let myself into the cool comfort of my room. I walk to the window and push aside the thin sheer to gaze down at the rectangle of lighted water below. I don’t jump when I hear a knock. I was expecting it.
I open the door for Jasper, but he only leans in enough to set my suitcase on the carpeting and give me a curt, “I want to pull out at seven. Be ready.” Then he turns, black duffel thrown over his shoulder, and lets himself into his own room.
When his door closes with a soft click, I mutter, “No, no don’t worry about me. I’ll just order up some room service. But thank you soooo much for asking.”
I do jump, however, when Jasper’s door flies open and he pokes his head out. “What was that?”
I just stare at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, for a good thirty seconds before I shake my head and duck back inside my own room, closing the door and leaning against it.
Moves like a tiger. Hears like a superhero. What next? Can the guy climb walls?
Determined to push my frustrating neighbor out of my thoughts in favor of more important concerns, I unpack a few things and get settled before ordering something to eat. I let my mind flow once more to the Colonel and what might’ve happened. Considering that I moved across the country to keep him safe, my distress over his absence is understandable.
Normally, I wouldn’t think anything about not being able to reach him for a few days. Aside from the fact that he stays pretty busy, the man hates cell phones. He says they’re just another tool that can be hacked and used to violate our rights by those with bad intentions. I’ve always chalked his paranoia up to the time he spent in the military. Although he never told me much about what he did, it was easy to deduce that it was highly classified. Most people talk about work, at least in a generic way, but not my dad. He’s been tight-lipped and guarded (about work, anyway) for as long as I can remember.