She felt him hesitate, something almost fearful crossed his expression, but only for a second as he finally—finally—sped up, his hips bucking as he began to thrust in earnest. Yes, yes, yes. She tightened her thighs around him, watching his face, waiting for the moment it would tense with unbearable pleasure. But to her surprise, it was her own intense pleasure that swept over her, an orgasm rising so quickly, it took her unaware as she cried out, the pulsing bliss exploding and then receding.
His eyes grew heavy, his lids half closing as his mouth fell open and he plunged into her, once, twice, an animal roar of pleasure erupting from him, as he threw his head back and pressed himself into her one final time.
With one last groan, he collapsed on top of her, rolling his weight to the side as their hearts beat together, their quickened breaths mingling, slowing, sweat cooling on their skin.
She felt his smile against her neck and it elicited a small laugh from her as she used her inner muscles to squeeze his softened flesh, still halfway inside her. He grunted against her throat, chuckling, the movement causing him to slip from her body.
He rolled to the side and propped himself up, gazing down at her, the look of stunned joy on his face so stark and clear that she laughed out loud. She lifted herself up and kissed him once, hard on the mouth.
“Let’s do it again,” he suggested, his voice slow with satisfaction.
She laughed, kissing him again, tracing his lips with her finger. “Hold me for a while first.”
He did, and she knew he relished the intimacy, his joy so close to the surface that she could read every nuance on his handsome face. His joy inspired hers, and she’d never felt so contented in all her life, lying there with him in the warmth of her bed, sharing, touching, making love again and again.
The night deepened, wrapping around them so it felt as if no one else existed. Only them. “This. Here,” he breathed, looking at her with deep intensity, their bodies connected, their hearts entwined.
“What?” she asked on a breath, the moment slowing, though everything physical about her was rushing, quickening.
“This fills my soul. You . . . you fill my soul.”
Oh, Jak.
He began moving then and her thoughts tumbled, drifted away as pleasure engulfed her, joy spiraling wildly. You fill my soul too, her heart whispered just as her body flew to the stars.
They whispered in the dark. He told her about his beloved Pup and kissed her tears away when she cried for his loss. She told him more about her childhood, how hard it had been every time she had to pack up and move somewhere else.
When the sun peeked through her curtains, they had hardly slept. Her muscles ached, and she was sore in places she hadn’t even known existed. And yet Harper had never opened her eyes to a morning that held more exuberant joy than that one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Jak’s grandfather lived in a castle. Though Agent Gallagher had called it an “estate.” Estate was another word for castle, he figured. It had to be. There couldn’t be a house bigger than the one he was standing in.
He squeezed Harper’s hand and she looked at him, her eyes both sleepy and bright. His blood got hot and he wanted to mate with—no, make love to—her again, even though they’d done it four times, once just before Agent Gallagher had picked them up. Harper had asked if he wanted to go alone to meet the grandfather, but he wanted her there. Wherever he was, that’s where he wanted her to be.
Clicking sounds on the floor and a second later, a man came into the room. He was almost as tall as Jak with gray hair and clothes that looked like a uniform only . . . not. His gaze turned to Jak immediately, the look in his eyes sharp like an eagle. He walked to him and held out his hand. Jak shook, gripping firmly like Agent Gallagher did. The shaking thing, it was becoming familiar. It was what people did when they met, or saw each other again.
“My God,” the man murmured, his eyes traveling all over Jak’s face. His voice sounded surprised and sad and happy all together. “It’s uncanny. Come.” He turned and made a hand movement that Jak thought meant he should follow him. He glanced once at Harper, and she gave him a nod before he followed the older man. He walked to a desk and picked up a photograph, handing it to Jak. The picture was of a man about his age, he thought, standing in front of a car and smiling.
Jak looked at it, trying to figure out what the older man was showing him. “That’s
Halston Junior. Your father.” Jak’s eyes widened and he brought the picture closer, looking at the face of the man who had fathered him. “You look like him,” the older man said. “Just like him. There are more family albums in the drawer if you want to look through them later.” Jak stared at the photograph again, bringing his hand to his bearded jaw, his eyes moving back to the man in the picture, curious. Jak wasn’t sure if he looked like his father. He still pictured his own face looking back at him from the wavy water. He couldn’t remember what he’d looked like in the pictures he’d found at Driscoll’s house, and he didn’t like to think about that anyway. He’d only glanced at himself in the mirror in Harper’s bathroom. He hadn’t taken the time to study himself—he’d wanted to, but he wanted to get back to bed more. To her. He handed the photograph back.
“I’m your grandfather, son. Call me Hal. Welcome. Welcome to the family.” His voice made a weird crack and then he stepped forward, surprising Jak by wrapping his arms around him. Jak remained stiff for a second, but then let the man hug him quickly before he stepped back again. “Well, I’m sure you have hundreds of questions and we can sit down and talk after I’ve shown you around your new home. How’s that?” He thought of his real home—his old home, he kept having to remind himself. Right now, the forest would be filled with the noise of the hunters and gatherers going about their work. The sun would be at its warmest. If he closed his eyes, he could feel it, smell it, remember the times of peace when his mind was quiet and his heart was calm. There, he felt connected to all living things, when the whispers weaved through him, wrapped around him, and he became part of it all. No end. No beginning. He’d drawn the feeling on Harper’s mother’s notes. He wondered if he’d ever have that feeling again. This new place felt like the opposite of that.
The grandfather—Hal—smiled at Agent Gallagher and Harper, who was standing next to him with her hands together in front of her. “Thank you for everything,” he said. “Nigel will show you to the door.” The man named Nigel in the black and white uniform stepped forward from the doorway like he was a shadow who had just come to life.
“Thank you. Jak, give me a call if you need anything,” Agent Gallagher said, giving him a nod and starting to turn away.
Jak’s heart leaped and he stepped toward Harper. “Do you want me to stay?” she asked softly, leaning in to him.
Yes. He did. But he remembered she had gifts for the kids at the group home. Gifts in shiny green paper with red and white bows. She’d put them behind the seat in her truck and said she’d been away from them too long. He wanted those kids with no parents—like him and Harper—to have those gifts. To know she hadn’t forgotten about them.
But he didn’t want to be alone with these strangers in this big castle that felt cold and lifeless. He felt . . . stuck. He stared at Harper. It’d only be for a little while . . . “Will you come back?”
Harper smiled, but it looked like she was making herself do it. “Yes, of course I will. I’ll call you.”
Call him? He felt panicked. He didn’t even know how phones worked, didn’t know what phone, or where . . .