She didn’t doubt he could make a woman beg for anything, everything. If she wasn’t careful, didn’t keep her distance, she could quickly become another notch on his bedpost. Worse, he could open her psyche and expose all the hidden fantasies better left to the dark corners of her mind.
Time for a change of subject. “Thank you for getting me out of Lafayette. I would have panicked and run when the bullets started flying. On my own, I would never have been able to concoct this disguise and…distract him.”
“That’s my job, Morgan.”
“You didn’t have to do it.” Then, recalling the way his hands roamed her body in Alyssa’s bedroom, she shot him a suspicious look. “In fact, I think you did more than your job required.”
“Think what you want.” Jack’s smile told Morgan that her assertion amused him.
“I usually do.” She gritted her teeth, wishing she knew how to wipe that smile off his face. “Where are we going?”
“I’ve got a place. It’s safe. We can hide you there until we figure something out.”
The thought of being anywhere near Jack, even for just a few days rattled her. “Maybe I should rent a car and drive back to Houston. I’ve already imposed—”
“He’ll catch on quick and follow you, Morgan. This guy isn’t stupid. Psycho, but not stupid. You want to be safe or dead? Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity for you to learn about Dominance and submission. I can ensure you’ll sound like an expert on your show.”
“I think I get the picture.”
“Cher, you haven’t even scratched the surface.”
“I don’t need you touching me anymore.”
His smile could have melted butter. “You may not think you need it, but I know better. You need it every bit as much as you want it.”
Morgan’s jaw dropped. “You are one arrogant bastard.”
“You’re submissive, and I’m arrogant. See how well we’re getting to know each other already?”
His quip put her temper in a twist. “I am not— That’s it! Take me back to Lafayette.”
He sent her an amused glance. “Back to your friend’s car, the one your stalker probably has his pretty rifle trained on as we speak?”
She bit her lip. Damn it. Why did he have to be right?
“Or maybe I should drop you off at the police station,” he taunted. “They’re always so much help in stalker cases.”
Clenching her fists, Morgan said nothing, again knowing spoke the truth.
“Or maybe, you could hop a plane back to L.A. How long do you think it would be before he stopped shooting pictures and tried again to shoot you between the eyes? You got a death wish?”
“No.” Her voice vibrated with the anger she felt coursing through her body. “You got an off button for your mouth?”
Jack just smiled. “You’re too smart to want to face a killer more than your sexuality, Morgan. I’ll ask you the same question I asked before your stalker started shooting: What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
He shrugged, as if he didn’t care about her response one way or the other. “Fine. It’s your life. Am I taking you back to Lafayette or are you going to stay safe with me?”
God, she wanted to shock the bastard. Spit in his face and verbally cut off his balls by demanding he take her back to Brandon’s car so she could zoom back to Houston, far away from his challenging words and his wicked touch.
But once again, damn it, he was right. Putting herself back in the path of a killer because Jack pushed a few of her sexual buttons was flat stupid. She had no place safe to go, and despite Brandon’s suggestion, she was not calling Senator Ross. He wouldn’t lift a finger to help her.
“I’ll go with you,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Good girl. We’ve got a few hours to travel and it’s getting late. Try getting some sleep.”
Morgan wasn’t sure she could. Being that vulnerable around a man like Jack, especially while she still had a stalker on her tail. “I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion. We’re not being followed. No one is on this road for miles.” He gestured to the open road and fields around them, completely devoid of headlights. “You’re safe and you’re going to need your strength later, cher, in case we haven’t lost your stalker for good.”
She sighed, then shot him a reluctant glance. Again, he was right.
Morgan crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her body toward the passenger window. But soon the rhythmic motion of the car lulled her. She closed her eyes and drifted off.
Two hours later, Jack stopped the truck at the water’s edge, in front of the boat waiting where he’d left it. After he scrambled aboard with a groggy Morgan, they cruised down the river for a while, Jack poling his way down the swamp with Morgan drifting in and out of sleep and shivering in the February air. He did his best to shelter her from the wind with his body. She unconsciously snuggled into him when he wrapped one arm around her.
That gave him a hard-on so stiff it hurt.
They reached their destination shortly before ten. Jack lifted a slumbering Morgan into his arms, settled her in his grasp, and headed for the dark cottage.
He’d expected to have to talk fast in Lafayette, to hustle and sweet-talk her to a hotel room to get his revenge. Having her here, in his domain, was better—and worse. Her stalker had helped him maneuver Morgan right where he wanted her and never dreamed he’d have her. He would have Morgan to himself, on his turf, where he could devote hours to her seduction and his revenge. Sweet, yes.
But Jack couldn’t pretend her sick stalker didn’t concern him. At least here, with him, he could protect her from the psycho who’d clearly decided that if he couldn’t have Morgan, no one else would. He would keep her safe; he owed her that much. Particularly since it was clear Morgan could no longer fend for herself and was exhausted beyond her endurance.
But on a basic physical level, she trusted him. That trust shimmered through his body, both hardening his cock and softening his gut. Why fight it? He liked her, even if he hated her fiancé’s guts. She was by turns feisty and vulnerable, sharp and gullible. And for some reason so damned familiar, as if he’d seen her somewhere before…
Shifting Morgan in his grasp, Jack shoved the key in the lock, then thrust open the door. Inside the little Craftsman cottage, clean lines and pine floors reminded him of his boyhood, of fishing with his grand-pere Brice. This place never failed to inspire great memories, even if the old family legends his grandfather told here made him laugh.