“I’m glad it was more than that, Grace,” Jared says. “After I knew your file, I had to know more. I had to know you. That’s why I came to find you.”
I close my eyes and just feel him, feel this moment between us that is so very real. He releases my hand and I skim it across his rough jaw to that soft, hairless place by his ear. I lean closer and touch his face, memorizing his features with my fingertips. I breathe in his scent.
“I need you right now,” I whisper. Doubt and insecurity be damned, Jared’s disappearing act can almost be forgiven when I pull him closer until he’s out of his chair, leaning over me on the couch, his long body covering mine.
“What do you need, Grace? What can I give you?” Jared’s hands move up and down my body, shedding our buttoned-up clothes. “Because right now I want to give you everything.”
We’re almost naked, lying together on my couch, his skin taut over muscles that flex with each movement as he caresses my body.
“Kiss me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Kiss me,” I repeat.
It’s such a simple thing, a small thing. Almost a throwaway among consenting adults.
But with Jared, I know it means more. Something about his hesitation tells me that whatever’s wrapped up in this kiss is inexorably tied to his own personal demons.
And now I want to know them. The good and the bad, the light and the dark. I want his history and his present and maybe his future. I want to unpack his heart to learn his secrets, and let him unpack mine.
I want to let him in enough to know me. Even if he finds the rough edges: the bitter hurt, the chasm of loss, or the loneliness of existing in a marriage that stood shakily on a foundation of one perfect human—Ethan. And little else.
Jared pushes himself up on his elbows, his hair falling over his forehead. Dark eyes watch me, searching for some answer, and I would answer him if only I knew the question.
“You can’t just be my lover,” he says, and his voice vibrates through his chest so I can feel it in mine. “If I kiss you, you can’t just be a woman I know, and touch, and taste. You have to be more.”
“I am more than that. I’m more than that to you already. I know it.” I fight the rising panic in my voice, the desperate need for him to admit that he wants me in every way I want him. “I know this means more, Jared, which is why I’m not going to let you get away with another hard fuck when you should be making love to me.”
Jared’s hips tilt and his knee nudges mine apart. I bite the inside of my cheek, debating whether to roll him off me now and cut my losses. He doesn’t push inside me. He doesn’t kiss me, either.
This is humiliating. I’m putting myself out there and still, his dark eyes watch me. He doesn’t move.
“Kiss me, Jared, or if you won’t, get the hell off me.” I grit my teeth, my hands gripping his shoulders as I prepare to push.
“Give me one fucking minute, Grace.” Jared draws a ragged breath and I can tell he’s rolling words around in his mind, searching for what to say. “I need you to know things, so you can decide whether you really want this. Want me.”
I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.”
He pulls back from me and I feel a chill across my breasts where the heat of his body had been. His eyes squeeze closed as if he’s in physical pain. “I fucked you to control you, Grace.”
I freeze. The sharp certainty of his statement arrests me. “You. What.”
“It was a mind game, between me and her, this … woman I used to be with. She fucked me to get where she wanted to be.”
“And you did the same to me?” I choke on my sharp intake of breath, my body convulsing, and I push Jared away, tucking my knees into my chest.
Jared turns away and his words are forced. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“Then what the fuck was it?” Anger washes over me, bitter and hot, as I realize his tempting little promise of “no strings” on the night we met was all about strings. Getting his hooks into me. Something to hang over my head. “Leverage?”
Oh, my God. The things he has on me now. I can kiss my political future goodbye.
“No. It was never political blackmail.” His voice is pleading.
“Just personal blackmail, then?” There’s a vicious bite in my tone.
“No! Jesus, Grace, will you just listen to me for one fucking minute? I was coming off a head-trip relationship. And when I started vetting you, there was just something so … right about you. So real. And I watched your videos, and read your history, and it wasn’t enough. I had to know you. As intimately as I could.”