“What will you use the money for when you sell Amity Court?”
Of all the questions Leah might have come up with at that moment, this was one he’d expected the least. His mouth against the crown of her head, the softness of her curls tickling his lips, he hesitated.
“No, wait. Let me guess,” she continued. “A bigger beach house? A home cinema in your condo? A gold-plated hammer?”
“I’ve got two of those already,” he joked in reply. Feeling the huff of her snicker against his skin, Jackson realized he didn’t want secrets between them. “Honestly?”
Leah gestured around them and he smiled—right, they were in the Bed of Truth.
Spilling the whole tangled story into the dark, he told her about his dad’s purchase of the Kingswater site, the loan from Landon Peake, and the messy conflict between his father and the Addlestone-Blacks. He explained the holdup with the Indiana bats and his desire for a more equal footing, a steadier working partnership with his father going forward. All the while, Jackson traced circles on her shoulder, running his fingers up and down her arm.
“So Peake was kind of casing the joint when he visited. Seeing if you were good for the money?” Leah propped her chin on his chest once he’d finished.
“Yes. A little dramatic but basically true.” Jackson shifted, still incensed by the thought. “He won’t be back.”
“Hmm.” She gave him a small smile. “And is that what you really want—to be a bigger player in Hale Evolution?”
“It’s the family business.”
“You said that before when I asked if you enjoy it, but it isn’t an answer.” Leah’s voice was matter-of-fact.
“It’s what Dominic was planning to do.”
“Also not an answer,” she pointed out, no judgment in her tone. “And, in fairness, it sounds as if you didn’t get to have anhonest discussion with your brother about whether or not he wanted it either.”
Dammit if she hadn’t hit the nail squarely on its head. Jackson frowned into the darkness. “I’d give anything to be able to talk with Dom again. I have so many things I’d ask him.”
Leah pressed her lips to his collarbone, comforting, understanding. “I wish I’d met him.” She flashed him a witchy smile. “Even though it probably would have worked out badly for you. I mean, I’ve heard what a catch he was.”
His growly laugh only made her grin wider. Jackson pinched the flesh on her hip. “Brat.”
“I hope the house sells soon so you can repay the loan. It’s a horrible situation to be in.”
Her innate kindness blindsided him, blowing away another of his rusting defenses. She still knew nothing about the financial gift his grandmother had requested he give her. She’d made no reference to where she would go once he found a buyer. After weeks of wanting to see the back of Leah, it made him edgy and uncomfortable to think of her moving on.
Looking for a distraction, Jackson gave in to the urge to run his fingers through her hair, sweeping it off her neck, baring the tips of her ears, the edge of her chin. Leah’s eyes were closed; her eyelashes lay in the darkest semicircle. That almond freckle called to his thumb and he brushed it lightly. She purred. She actually purred. And it was the sexiest fucking sound he’d ever heard.
“You are one hell of a package, you know that?”
He could just make out the twitch of her mouth in the dark. “A package, Jax? Really? Do flatter me some more.”
He stared up at the ceiling, his hands back in her hair. He tugged on one of the tangled waves. “You can’t expect flowery language from a guy who’s been blindsided by a combination of fish stick sandwiches, terrible puns, and gorgeous fucking curves.”
And more. There was so much more to Leah. He was greedy for it all.
She propped herself up on an elbow. “I’m sensing some residual hostility there, Hale. You got resentment you need to talk through, now would be a good time to get it off your chest.” Even her smirk was sexy. Infuriatingly sexy. He might have taken issue with it if Leah hadn’t reached out to run exploratory fingers over his chest, around and across one nipple and then the other. Her palm drifted lower and every muscle in his abdomen rippled in anticipation.
Jackson caught her wrist, even as he raised his mouth to taste her lips. His length flexed against her hip at Leah’s sharp in-breath. The taste of her, the smell of her, felt dangerously like an obsession.
Brakes.
Brakes would be good right now.
“It’s late,” he murmured. “We should sleep.”
“Yes,” she agreed. Her tongue danced lightly with his and her hand twisted in the hair at the back of his neck. Jackson wished she’d pull harder. “That would absolutely make the most sense.”
“I am nothing if not sensible,” he agreed, running the flat of his hand down the impossible smoothness of Leah’s thigh, the urge to explore her again too tempting to resist.
