The Sea Within Read online

  Chapter Six

  Jackson followed Elle into the apartment. The living space wasn’t large, but unlike Jackson’s, it was cozy. Camille had always been the one to make a place seem like home, and without Camille, Jackson had let her place lapse into something between threadbare and barely functional.

  “Would you like a drink?” Elle retrieved a glass and waited for her answer.

  “Sure.”

  The main living space contained both a sitting area and a small kitchen separated by an island ringed with stools. Jackson ambled toward one of the stools, taking in details of the room as she moved. There was a grouping of small framed photos over a long narrow cabinet. A vase of blown glass and other small decorative objects were on top of the cabinet—interesting stones, a feather, and a seashell. She couldn’t see details in the framed pieces without being obvious, so she didn’t look closely. The sofa was little more than a love seat, piled with brightly colored pillows. There were a few larger throw pillows on the floor near the sofa. Jackson envisioned an intimate social gathering with someone sitting on the couch while others lounged on the pillows. There was one door off the main room, probably the bedroom and bath. The door was partially closed so she didn’t get a look inside. Jackson had tried to gather as much information about Elle as possible, without looking as if she were, as she simply crossed the room.

  “Ice?”

  “Two, thanks.” She watched as Elle dropped ice into glasses and poured two fingers of bourbon.

  “Sorry, I don’t have something else to offer you. I’m not sure what you were drinking before, but maybe you’re okay with this.” Elle handed her a glass.

  “It was bourbon. So, thanks. This is great.” She sipped and savored the warmth of the liquor in her throat.

  Elle rounded the counter and motioned for them to sit. Instead of sitting down, Jackson took a moment to study the pictures. There were several images of plants—a close-up of an interesting leaf, a yellow flower, a twisted tree stripped of foliage against a blue sky, and off to the side, an older photo in which Elle looked younger as she stood with someone who was maybe her sister.

  “Nice photos.” She sipped the drink as she slowly swiveled. Elle was watching her from the sofa as if she were on a witness stand, as if Elle were trying to decide whether she could be trusted or not.

  “Thank you.” Elle continued to study her. “What did you really say to that guy on the street?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “It seemed as if he knew you…as if maybe there was more to that conversation than you shared.”

  Elle was smart. Something about the way she noticed details. Jackson had picked up on it the first night they’d met. Smart women were a big turn-on.

  “I’ve done sweeps through this neighborhood before with the National Guard.” The National Guard was spread so thin that sometimes for larger initiatives they had to enlist the help of other branches of the military. She paused and took a drink before continuing. “I told him if I saw him on this block again I’d kick his ass. Then I gave him the credits and directions to the shelter.”

  “Would you really do that?”

  “What?”

  “Kick his ass.”

  “If provoked, absolutely.”

  A shiver ran up Elle’s arms. Jackson was like a tightly coiled spring, ready to bolt for the door again, or—she wasn’t sure. But intensity pulsed off Jackson. The muscle along her jaw kept flexing and she still hadn’t joined Elle on the sofa. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Jackson obviously had some unresolved thing going on that had nothing to do with her.

  Elle had one other idea about how to change the tone of the evening. If that didn’t work, then she was going to finish the drink and end this, whatever this was.

  “You seem tense.” Elle tested the waters. “Why don’t you come sit and I’ll rub your shoulders.”

  Jackson stoically faced her, as if Elle had just challenged her to a duel and all that remained was to select a weapon of choice.

  Elle placed a large throw pillow on the floor between her feet.

  “If you sit here, I can rub your shoulders while you finish your drink.” She patted the cushion with her hand. “It’s the least I can do since you came to my rescue out there on the street.”

  “Really, it was nothing.”

  Jackson hesitated but finally took a seat on the floor pillow with her back to Elle. Her broad shoulders brushed against the inside of Elle’s knees. She slid the hem of her dress up a little in order to spread her thighs to make room for Jackson. Before Elle even touched her, she could see that Jackson was tense. Her well-defined lats strained against the lightweight jacket she was wearing as she partially turned her head to look at Elle.

  “Here, I’ll help you out of your coat.” She gently tugged the jacket from Jackson’s shoulders. “Better?”

  Jackson nodded. She tilted her head from one side to the other as if trying to loosen the muscles in her neck. Elle’s impression that Jackson was in law enforcement of some kind had been on point. Jackson’s clothing and her physical strength supported that assumption. And the display in the street earlier seemed to further confirm her conclusion. It wasn’t necessarily a problem. Elle had had experience with women in law enforcement in the past. Sometimes they saw the world as too black-and-white for her taste. Everything was about right or wrong, with little room for shades of gray. As a scientist, Elle searched for absolutes, but in terms of the human experience, absolutes were rare. Most of life existed in the gray middle.

  She slid her fingers across Jackson’s tense trapezius and deltoid muscles, then returned her fingers to her traps and began to squeeze. The muscles under her hands barely gave way to the pressure. Jackson was one big knot of stress.

  “Let me know if this is too much.” Elle’s hands weren’t strong enough. She began to use her elbow on different pressure points along Jackson’s shoulders.

  “No, that’s good.” Jackson exhaled. She draped her arms over Elle’s knees and began to relax against her.

  “So, do you work out like seven days a week, or what?” It was impossible not to ask. Jackson had the physique of an elite athlete.

  “Yeah, most weeks.” Jackson’s words were muffled. She was finally beginning to truly unwind a little.

  “Well, it shows.”

  Elle moved from Jackson’s shoulders to the vertical muscles at the back of her neck, working her fingers slowly up into the soft stubble of Jackson’s crew cut. She’d been massaging Jackson’s shoulders and neck for several minutes when she had the urge to expand her exploration. She reached around Jackson’s neck, brushed her lips against Jackson’s cheek, and unfastened the buttons of Jackson’s shirt.

  Jackson moaned softly when Elle’s fingers slipped past her collarbones to rub the tight muscles of her upper chest. She was careful not to drop lower now that she knew Jackson wasn’t wearing a bra. She returned her fingers to Jackson’s shoulders but as she did, she lightly kissed the outside edge of her ear. Simply caressing Jackson’s shoulders was turning her on, and so far, this encounter had only been one-sided so she wasn’t sure what Jackson might be feeling.

  She was rubbing her fingers up the back of Jackson’s head when she bent forward, moving out of Elle’s reach. Was that too much? Maybe she shouldn’t have unbuttoned Jackson’s shirt. Jackson sat forward for a moment and Elle waited to see what might happen next.

  Jackson felt the intense need to touch Elle. She rotated, braced on her knees, to face Elle. Her heart was jackhammering in her chest and her crotch and all Elle had done was rub her shoulders. Something about this woman triggered a response she hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite the fact that this feeling, whatever it was, scared the shit out of her, she wasn’t going to run this time. She braced her palms on her thighs, flexed her arms, and took Elle in. The hem of Elle’s dress had worked halfway up her thighs. Far enough so that from this angle, she could see the dark fabric of her satin underwear. Elle’s face was flushed. She hadn�
��t shifted her position or covered herself, even though she had to know that Jackson could see up her dress from this position on her knees.

  She didn’t take her eyes off Elle’s as she slowly unfastened the remaining buttons of her shirt. She tugged the tail of it free from her trousers and let it drape open. Then she slid her palms up Elle’s creamy thighs. Still on her knees, she positioned herself between Elle’s legs and kissed her. Elle cupped her face with her hands as Jackson deepened the kiss. Her hands were under Elle’s dress now. She hooked Elle’s underwear with her fingers and started to pull them off.

  “Is this okay?” She whispered the question against Elle’s lips.

  “Yes.” Elle’s response was breathy.

  Jackson tipped back enough to slide the undergarment off, along with Elle’s pumps. She shucked out of her shirt and reclaimed her position between Elle’s legs. This time, she slid Elle forward so that her sex was pressed against her abs. Her stomach muscles twitched when they made contact with Elle’s wet center. She wanted to fuck Elle right now, right here. She pressed into Elle, sweeping her palm across Elle’s breast as she kissed her hard. Elle’s fingernails skimmed her shoulders. She was definitely sending Jackson signs that she was into this. Elle found the hard point of Jackson’s nipple with her fingers and squeezed.

  “How about this? Is this okay?” She broke the kiss and looked at Elle. Her fingers were between Elle’s legs. She teased at Elle’s entrance with her fingertip.

  Elle nodded.

  “Say it. Say that you want it.” It was all Jackson could do not to slide inside.

  “I want it.” Elle held her face. “I want you, Jackson.”

  Something about the way she said Jackson’s name. Sensations she’d forgotten washed over her bringing a surge of emotion. She moved her hand and rocked back on her knees. What the hell was she doing? She blinked. She was breathing hard.

  “No, don’t pull away.” Elle slid forward.

  Elle wasn’t going to let Jackson escape so easily this time. Jackson regarded her as if she were seeing Elle for the first time, as if she were seeing a ghost. Elle put her arms around Jackson’s neck and held her, forcing her face against Elle’s chest. Then she stood and led Jackson by the hand to the bedroom.

  At the side of the bed, she shimmied her dress over her head and then removed her bra. Jackson stood still and watched as Elle undressed herself and then began to unfasten Jackson’s belt and trousers. She dropped to her knees and unlaced Jackson’s boots. Jackson seemed to come out of whatever trance she’d slipped into. She kicked off her boots and drew Elle up and into her arms. Elle slipped her hands into the back of Jackson’s trousers and pushed her underwear and pants over her hips at the same time. She backed to the bed and tugged Jackson along with her.

  Jackson’s body was like something she’d conjured in a dream. Every muscle taut and toned, like some Greek warrior goddess. She was enveloped by strong arms, and Jackson’s muscled thigh was between her legs as Jackson settled her weight on top of Elle. Warmth radiated from Jackson’s body.

  Elle took Jackson’s hand and placed it between her legs. She wanted Jackson to fuck her in the worst way. They’d almost done it on the sofa, but some switch had flipped for Jackson. Elle could see it, she could feel it. But they’d gone too far and Elle wasn’t going to let Jackson escape so quickly this time. She needed this.

  Jackson’s mouth was on her breast as she slipped her fingers inside. Elle opened her legs and arched against Jackson’s hand as she thrust inside her. She grasped Jackson’s forearm as she rocked beneath her.

  She was too close, too fast.

  Elle tried to slow down, but she couldn’t. Jackson was inside her and she was hungry for it, starved in fact. There was no going slow option.

  “Just…just…ah, yes…that’s it.” Her entire body shivered as the wave of the orgasm crested, she was coming way too fast. She hadn’t had sex in so long that she’d come too quickly—in a fevered rush.

  Jackson stilled her movements but stayed inside as she feathered kisses down Elle’s neck. Elle’s limbs were limp. She sank into the pillow, breathless. Jackson’s weight on top of her was the only thing keeping her grounded.

  Jackson could feel Elle’s heartbeat against her fingertips. She caressed slowly until Elle squeezed her forearm, a signal to move her hand. Reluctantly, she slid her fingers out, repositioning her palm on the curve of Elle’s hip.

  Elle’s dark brown hair cascaded across the pillow. The pale skin of her neck and chest was flushed with a blush color that rose to her cheeks. Her eyes were closed. She licked her lips and brushed damp tendrils off her forehead as Jackson braced on one elbow for a better view. The soft curves of Elle’s body pressed gently against her. She lightly trailed her fingers up Elle’s torso, committing the sensuous topography to memory. The gentle roundness of Elle’s breasts, the slight contour of her stomach, and her toned legs; Elle was gorgeous. It took a few moments for her to realize Elle was studying her. She had lain quietly allowing Jackson to caress her, to take her in. She stopped the exploration and rested her hand on Elle’s stomach.

  This felt so real, too real. She wasn’t ready for this, not by a long shot.

  A tsunami of emotion pounded over Jackson, causing a lump to lodge in her throat. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been with other women since Camille. She had. But she never felt anything when she’d been with them. Being with them had only confirmed what she’d lost and convinced her that she’d never feel the same with anyone again. This, being with Elle, felt different, different enough to be scary.

  Elle pressed her hand against Jackson’s shoulder, rolling her onto her back. Then she began to place light kisses down Jackson’s chest and her stomach until she reached the apex of her thighs. Elle slid down farther and lightly pressed her palms against Jackson’s legs to open them. Elle started to kiss her there, exploring with her tongue.

  “Don’t go inside.” Jackson spoke through clenched teeth. She sank her fingers into Elle’s hair. She wanted to be sure Elle had heard her. Elle was doing things with her mouth that threatened to breach Jackson’s carefully constructed defenses. She’d only ever let one woman close enough to—close enough to slip inside.

  Elle seemed okay with the request.

  Elle teased and sucked until her muscles began to twitch with the need for release. Once again, she filled her fingers with Elle’s hair. She was losing herself and needed to hang on. She stiffened beneath Elle as her orgasm climbed, until she toppled over the razor-sharp edge. She was falling now and fighting the impulse to let go. Letting go wasn’t an option. Letting go was more vulnerability than she was willing to share with a woman she didn’t really know.

  Elle relaxed on top of her, with her cheek against Jackson’s stomach.

  Was she asleep? Jackson stroked Elle’s hair and tried to regain her composure, reconstructing her defenses as she stared at the ceiling. They were naked on top of the sheet and cool air from the ceiling fan made her skin tingle. Or was that a result of Elle’s skin against hers? She felt weird and exposed—and emotional. She hoped Elle was asleep because if they did much more she might just lose it. She covered her face with her hands. What the fuck was her problem?

  When she moved her hands, she saw that Elle was watching her again. She was still lying across Jackson’s stomach, but her eyes were open now and her head angled upward. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything or ask Jackson what was wrong.

  Elle pulled the sheet up to cover them and slid up so that her head rested in the hollow space of Jackson’s shoulder.

  “Can you stay for a little while?” Elle kissed her on the cheek.

  “Sure.” She could barely get the response out around the lump in her throat.

  Elle snuggled against her and she became acutely aware of every point of contact between their bodies. She was still incredibly turned on but fought the impulse to make love to Elle. Make love? Where did that come from? How did she get from a simple fuck to making love? She neede
d to leave.

  Beside her, Elle’s breathing was slow and steady. If she wasn’t asleep then she wasn’t far from it. Jackson gently dislodged her shoulder and started to quietly gather her clothes. She dressed in the living room with the plan of letting herself out and never looking back.

  Chapter Seven

  Elle sensed Jackson’s departure long before she got out of bed. She let Jackson think she was asleep so that she could slip away without having some awkward conversation about when they’d see each other again, or if. Clearly, Jackson had some wounds that hadn’t healed. Some woman had really done a number on her.

  When she heard the door click shut, she rolled onto her back and exhaled. Damn, Jackson was as good in bed as she’d expected. Why were the hot ones always so messed up? Whatever. She wasn’t going to beat herself up for not being able to figure it out. It seemed to her that they’d both enjoyed the sex and now she could drift off to a blissful night, replaying Jackson’s touch on an infinite loop in her head.

  Suddenly thirsty, she walked to the kitchen for a glass of water without getting dressed. She rotated after filling a glass, resting her lower back against the cool edge of the counter as she drank. A dark figure was seated on the sofa; she jumped and almost choked on the water. Jackson stood and walked toward her. She was partially dressed, with her trousers on but no shoes, and her dress shirt hung open, still unbuttoned.

  Elle was taken by complete surprise; she’d been certain Jackson had gone.

  Jackson towered over her, took the glass from her hand, and then drew Elle to her. Elle’s fingers brushed across the ripples of Jackson’s abs. Jackson kissed her while her fingers applied slight pressure at the base of Elle’s neck, under her hair. Jackson’s other hand squeezed her breast and then moved farther down. She held on to Jackson’s neck as she felt herself hoisted up. She wrapped her legs around Jackson’s waist. Jackson’s hands were under her ass pressing her against Jackson’s stomach.