Amara's POV
The house itself was definitely beyond what only two people would need. It left me to wonder if we would be housing staff of any kind and how trustworthy they may be. As it seemed I was a captive, I had to find a way to survive from one gilded cage to another. In hindsight, I knew I was cruel to Jackson when all he had done was try and protect me, but I was too angry at him to see anything beyond my rage. Maybe if he would have come back into my life before now things could have been different. Maybe this night wouldn't be forced…maybe it wouldn't be fake.The mudroom opened to a small entryway directly across from a staircase set on a far wall and archways leading to different sections of the house. To the right was the kitchen, silver and cobalt details that looked untouched and pristine. Wrapping around to this had been a dining room with enough room for approximately eight guests and a small candelabra at the center. Beyond this was a study decorated iJackson's POVHow is it that even with a scowl, messy hair, and day's old makeup that Amara Brady could pull me to my knees. If her safety weren't a factor I was tempted to drop down on them and beg for her forgiveness for my treatment of her the night before. But as I refrained at least one hundred times from coming to her room that I paced behind the door that separated us, I could find the strength in addressing her now. But for the moment her eyes seemed to feed off of my naked chest-that was a bit harder to ignore. “Why did you bring me here?” She asked as if suddenly some CEO of some kind with fingers folded in wait for an answer. “I was tired.” I was short with my answer, hoping she would be too annoyed to dig into more details. “Tired from throwing away the candles? Maybe the flowers? The book looked kind of heavy…” Dammit. I didn't think she was going to go full raccoon in the night and find any of that. “Must have been from the owners
Amara's POV It was a tortured silence as we made our way to the private airstrip just outside of the city. I wanted to apologize and be apologized to but all I could think about was what happened in that kitchen before we left. More specifically what could have happened if we weren't interrupted. As infuriating as it was to be both a captive and a willing hostage, I was constantly torn between trusting Jackson and wanting to get the upper hand over him. Maybe figure out a way to dethrone my father from his patriarchy and find my freedom in a way that didn't depend on me marrying someone else. But all I could think about were Jackson’s hands holding mine flat. His tense body curved into my own. His breath at the shell of my ear as I turned to face him. As I said, completely infuriating. “Where are we even going?” I asked with frustration more on myself than him. “Away.” “That was helpful, thank you…You know if you wanted to be a-” I beg
Jackson's POV“I'm fine.” I urged as she had already made at least five trips through the entire plane to try and find the first aid kit. While my eyes shifted here and there on the instruments of the plane, she was on her sixth trek before I captured her hand on my own.“Maree…please…You're making me dizzy…”“You're burning up and are still actively bleeding! I'm not stopping until I-” The eureka moment spread across her face was enough to blaze a grin across my own. I basked in her happiness and wanting to be a part of it- wanting to be the cause of it.“Stay here.” I chuckled with the lack of a choice as she sped back into the cabin of the plane and returned with arms full of alcohol.“Uh…”“I wasn't sure if you were a whiskey guy or more of a vodka but…”“I'm not drinking when I still have to help you land this thing in a few hours.”“It's to help the infection.”
Amara's POV I woke up completely disoriented in an unfamiliar bed, a cold damp between my legs, and the scent of Jackson surrounding me at every turn. My cheeks flushed immediately as I understood the reason behind my ruined panties had been from the vivid wet dream. His scent was from the space we shared, I was certain. But how I got into this bed was a theory of his caring arms lifting me against him, despite his wound and his fever. And just like that the tension of my lust and sanity wound tight enough that I might as well have kept my fingers in place throughout the night as they did nothing to end this rigidity. Maybe I'd be lucky and he wouldn't remember the moment in the cockpit and we could go back to that dishonest distance. But I was never a lucky girl…“Sorry-” He uttered when coming out from the cockpit, crashing into my chest and I was returned to the visions of last night's dream. Tangled sheets and heavy breathing were on a repe
Jackson's POVI shouldn't have done it but I needed to take the edge off. I didn't intend to until I saw those damn panties hanging over the shower and I had to hold them to be closer to her. I behaved until then, at least to a desperate man's standards, and convinced myself it was a reward of sorts. But now I could barely look her in the eye with how risky I'd been. What if she heard me? She'd be disgusted no doubt. I needed to keep myself under a damn microscope to not rush against her and frighten her with how my body came alive to her touch. “We’re here.” I explained as we came to the apartment complex we'd be staying at until further notice. It was under an alias and private enough that the only staff was a single maid that came once a week to change out the plants and dust. Now it would be a place we shared. A place that was suddenly too small for how being close to her made every curve of her was a damn homing beacon. “Let me know what room you pick and
Amara’s POVThis was a far cry from the Jackson I knew, without question. There was a time I used to have to order for him when we split a pizza and now he was commanding a room with split reactions-all making him out to be intimidating. The men surrounding the medium sized table in the Spanish-style restaurant all evaded eye contact while those they chose in their arms were batting their lashes at my husband. I couldn't help but wonder if anybody here was forced into a marriage of convenience as well or if thar was simply our story. I didn't have much time to pick up on the details of distance before a specific introduction caught my attention.“Danielle Davenport.” Her talon nails extended as I simply stared. Jackson wrapped his arm around my waist, gently digging his nails into my hip as a way to make me behave. All it did was bring me closer to his side and painfully aware that he was dominant to a cruel advantage.“Jackson's wife.” I
Jackson's POVThis woman was going to be the death of me. If her dress tonight wasn't confirmation than for her attitude that left me wanting her and wanting to correct her in equal measure. It made me psychotic and possessive as I thought of all the things I would say to her once she realized she was left to depend on me to access our apartment. I should have made her wait but I had some pull in my stomach to keep her from lingering too long on her own as she had a habit of bringing unwanted attention to herself. She seemed oblivious to it tonight as I saw Danielle's husband look at her without apology and it took everything I had not to relieve him of the sense. If not for my wife's smart mouth, I might have. “You bitch!” A voice echoed in the stairwell I was forced to take. It was a male tone and it was enough to send me flying up the remaining steps. Once making it to the top, I threw the door open to reveal Andrew Fraser. “You think you can leave
Amara's POV Have you ever wanted something so badly that you couldn't comprehend going another second without it? Because with our proximity closed this tightly and his body almost trembling with anticipation, I couldn't see anything beyond making that closure. I wouldn't admit to anyone but myself just how desperately I wanted this. More than my next breath as a curiosity always remained of how he would taste, even when we were in that trying time of adolescence. Now, it was burning with an unstoppable rage that any reason to pull away was recycled into a reason to press forward. One of his hands managed to drop from my arms and to my waist, fitting into the curve, as the other lifted to my cheek. A soft thumb broke the trace of our mouths as he was careful over my wound. What once stung by the cruel air to broken skin was now aching in an absence of his mouth to mine-an absence that should have been impossible since contact was only in a whisper close.