Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [120]
A happy time. A busy time. Thus, she welcomed the tranquility of finally being alone with Jago—and Clint.
The only discordant note to the holidays had been a call from her brother, Cian. His cell phone battery had been running low, allowing him just enough time to wish a Merry Christmas and say he was sorry neither Liam nor she were coming home to England for the holidays. She started to explain her home was here in Kentucky now, but his phone went into its warning beeps, so he cut her off, informing her that he was sending proxies for Liam and her to sign. He feared there’d be a hostile takeover of Montgomerie Enterprises after the first of the year; if that came to pass he wanted to be in position to vote Liam’s shares and hers.
Jago raised up in the bed, pushing the cat draped across his lap to the side. He touched her shoulder. “Shhhh . . . you’re safe, Asha. I’d never let anything hurt you.”
She melted into his arms, relishing the beautiful contours of his chest, the security she experienced in his strong embrace. Warming her very soul, she absorbed that high heat he generated. His heart beating in a calm rhythm reassured her that she was indeed protected. If only he could keep her dreams at bay.
“Sometimes I get scared,” she admitted.
He leaned back, cradling her. “We all get scared now and then.”
She had her cheek pressed to his chest, relishing the steady thudding of his heart, but suddenly it jumped, the beating erratic. Tilting her head so she could see his beautiful face, she asked, curious, “You get scared?”
He nodded. His right hand absently massaged the back of her neck. “The idea of losing you scares me spitless.” He smiled for reassurance, only she saw the measure of his fear reflected in the dark eyes.
“Silly man, you’re stuck with me and Clint.” She brushed a soft kiss to his lips.
“What scares you, Asha? You haven’t slept well this last week.”
“Ghosts.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Tommy and Laura.”
She nodded. “We keep meaning to have our talk, but everyone interrupts—or we can’t control ourselves and jump each other’s bones.”
Asha had noticed a quiet desperation to Jago’s lovemaking since his return, as if he used their passion to bond her to him. It even crossed her mind that he was trying to get her pregnant. Generally, men shied away from that step in a new relationship. Jago was not most men. She sensed he would make a good daddy, would enjoy raising a child. His gentleness with Clint demonstrated his caring, especially when the silly beast had done something that would cause other people to lose their tempers. Such as, when the cat barfed a hairball into his shoe and Jago didn’t know until it was too late, or the time Clint jumped on his leather motorcycle jacket and started to claw: Jago had only talked to the cat in soft tones and had explained these were not good things for kitty to do. His tender patience would make him a super father. So easily she could envision him wearing one of those baby harnesses. Only, this was more than him wanting a baby with her; she had a strange feeling he sought to use a child to fuse her to him, to reassure himself in some manner of his hold on her.
“There’s something to be said for bone-jumping,” he joked, then kissed the tip of her nose. She yawned, then smiled and she draped herself over his chest.
“True. I don’t have to exercise anymore.”
“See, therapeutic sex is good for your health.”
Being devilish, Asha traced a circle around his areola with the pad of her index finger and watched it tighten. Once she had his attention, she prodded, “You’re doing it again—avoiding talking about Tommy and Laura . . . just as you avoid discussing your time away.”
“I’m doing it?” He accused, “You’re the one playing with my titty. You’re setting fire