“I agree.” He stood, easing toward her with a caution he lacked when she arrived. “Except for one thing.”

“You agree?” Ryn looked up as he laced his fingers through her hair, cupping her face.

“Yes. You do eat well and exercise. And I’ve seen your bathroom counter … all those stupid creams are a waste of money because you can’t improve on beauty like yours. The banter, our wedding, the things I say to you, the way I look at you, how fucking hard I get every time I touch you … it’s not pretend. It’s not a game. It is reality. Okay, hot pants?”

Ryn rebounded from her dump of insecurities and giggled instead. “I’m never wearing underwear around you again.”

Jackson quirked a brow. “Mmm … that sounds like a tasty idea.”

The hot flush of embarrassment she felt could have melted Saturn. Sure, she was forty but did that have to mean she was a prude? The woman behind the red face had led a sexually sheltered life coming from the school of boys having penises and girls having vaginas.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” She averted her gaze to the side even with his hands holding her face so close to his.

“I’m just being honest. I find myself constantly craving your pussy.”

“Oh my God! Stop staying that.” Wriggling out of his grasp, she fisted his shirt and buried her face in his chest.

Jackson kissed the top of her head as he chuckled. “What do you want me to say? I like licking—”

“Stop!”

Another devious chuckle. “Or eating—”

“No! No! No!”

“Do you prefer cunt to puss—”

“Vagina! It’s a vagina, okay?” She stopped short of also emphasizing that it’s not a meal or snack. Although, denying how much she enjoyed his tongue exploring her vagina would have been a lie.

Jackson’s chuckle escalated into a full roaring laugh. “You want me to call your pussy a vagina? You think that’s sexy?”

Ryn smiled, face still buried in his shirt. “I don’t want you to call it anything. Please … just let me die.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Day

Jessica had balls that were arguably bigger than most men’s. However, they failed to meet the size requirement for sharing with his parents the riding-Luke’s-face-just-shy-of-an-orgasm incident. He played her, used her for his own pleasure, then tossed her aside to prove a point—he was a worthy adversary.

“Hope you like fajitas, Jessica. I am in the mood for margaritas and guacamole tonight,” Felicity said while filling the glasses, complete with sugar and salt rim garnish.

“I love Mexican.”

Luke handed her a glass. The shit-eating grin needed to be wiped off the smug bastard’s face. “Did you get everything finished up?”

Evil coursed through her veins as she cocked her head to the side while accepting the drink. “Did Luke tell you about Fran?”

Felicity and Tom jerked their heads in Luke’s direction. The easy mood vanished, leaving an eerie silence and tension so tight it felt as if the floor could crack open and swallow them whole.

Jessica thought she’d seen every one of Luke’s facial expressions. She was wrong. There wasn’t a hint of adoration left. The icy look he gave her left her heart pounding in her throat.

“So … you two have discussed Fran?” Felicity asked. Each word sounded cautious as if she, too, could feel the dangerous tension.

Luke swallowed, glaring at Jessica. She wanted to take back every word.

“We discussed how Fran and I met.”

“Oh …” Felicity’s nervous smile hid something. Jessica didn’t know what.

“I … we found out last week that Fran needs a heart transplant.”

Tom and Felicity nodded slowly.

“Jessica thinks I need to go visit her in Scottsdale.”

What was going on? The three of them knew something … something Jessica didn’t.

The victim turned monster had been in some very uncomfortable situations in her life, but nothing quite like that moment. Nobody spoke, yet everyone looked at one person: Jessica.

Finally, Tom cleared his throat. “Shall we eat?” He might as well have said “at ease.”

Felicity dumped a bag of corn chips into a bowl and handed it and the dish of guacamole to Tom as though the previous two minutes never happened. Except they had happened and Luke’s lingering gaze filled with anger, disappointment, and pain reminded her that she had somehow epically fucked up.

“Have a seat,” Luke said, devoid of all emotion.

She sat down. Jones plopped his big body on the floor behind her chair because he was a mama’s boy.

“So did you get your place sold since moving in with Luke?” Felicity asked.

“I rented. Only wealthy or very old people own property in San Francisco.”

“I anticipated starting work on my sailboat before cooler weather hit, but now I think it’s just going to have to wait until spring. You still in on the project with me?” Tom asked.

“Of course.” She glanced at Luke for confirmation that they would still be together in the spring. He gave her nothing.

“Lake has a boyfriend and he has family in San Francisco, so I think you’ll be seeing your sister a lot more.”

Luke nodded, dipping the same chip into the guacamole over and over without ever taking a bite.

“What are your plans for the holidays?”

Luke stayed in his zombie zone as if no one else at the table existed.

Jessica smiled at Tom. “My parents have invited us to their house for Thanksgiving, but we haven’t really committed to anything yet.”

Tom nodded, much like his son. She questioned if he even registered her answer to his question.

“Of course, my other boyfriend invited me for a sex-filled weekend on his private island off the coast of Italy.”

All. Three. Nodded.

“Dammit, Jones!” Jessica stood, resting her palms on the table.

Three heads jerked up and the dog scampered off to the living room, certain he was in trouble. Old habit. Luke may have bought her a dog and named him Jones, but when she was pissed, Luke’s name was still Jones. Actually, first name Dammit, last name, Jones.

“I didn’t want to have it out right here in front of your parents, but it would seem they know more than I do so maybe this needs to be a group conversation. You know damn well that I, more than anyone else, believe the past should stay buried with the dead, but yours is not, so out with it. Francesca—I want every. Little. Detail.”

Tom and Felicity frowned at Luke with pain in their eyes.

“Jessica, sweetie, he might not be ready to talk about this,” Felicity said.

“Is that right, Luke? Because you said I could ask you anything, and now I want everything.”

“Maybe we should give you two some privacy.”

“Sit. Down.”

Tom and Felicity didn’t move. Jessica could be cutthroat—literally.

“I’d been drinking Heineken with my college roommate, Levi,” Luke spoke in a grave tone. “We’d both had at least four or five too many. He told me about his friend back home who was screwing his roommate’s fiancée. He asked my advice … asked me what his friend should do if the roommate found out they were screwing around behind his back. I couldn’t even think that night … I was completely wasted. So I laughed and said he should put a bullet through both of their heads.”

His parents watched him. Pain. The pain was palpable, and she still didn’t know why.

“A week later I found Levi in the shower with blood and bits of his brain scattered on the wall, a gun next to his limp hand. In the note on the counter he said he wasn’t worth going to jail over so he saved me a life sentence, and he chose the shower to keep the mess contained because of my obsession with cleanliness. Then he asked me to forgive Fran and raise his kid as my own.”

Tom wrapped his arm around Felicity as silent sobs shook her body. But Luke … he said every word without an ounce of emotion, eyes locked to Jessica’s the whole time.