Free Damned If You Don't by Linda J. Parisi

pair, Jack. I’ll give that to you, so if you don’t want said items tied up in a knot, verrry tightly, I suggest you go into the bathroom and forget all about what you’re thinking right now.”
    She watched him shudder. “Heaven forbid. Does that mean the honeymoon’s over?”
    “Yes,” she bit out.
    “You know, I’m not adverse to having other parts of my anatomy tied up. You know, like wrists, ankles… Not too tight, of course.”
    “Jack!” she screamed.
    “I’m going; I’m going.”
    She listened to the door close and wondered how she wasn’t on the floor rolling. God, he was outrageous.
    That’s what you like about him.
    “I don’t like him at all,” she muttered under her breath.
    You like how he makes you feel.
    “Yeah, when he’s not betraying said derriere.”
    “Do you always talk to yourself like that?” he asked with a slight smile on his face.
    She started, looking up. She hadn’t realized he was still in the room. “No. I thought you were taking a shower.”
    “I am. I will. As soon as we get one thing straight.”
    “Oh? What’s that?”
    “This.”
    He pulled her hard against him and covered her mouth with his. She fought against him but fought against herself more. Her body knew what she wanted better than her mind. Still, there was always pride.
    He let go as swiftly as he’d snared her. “You think about that while I’m in the shower. And remember something.”
    She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
    “It won’t simply go away because you want it to.”
    She listened to the water run, knowing he was right. But she didn’t know how to reconcile her emotions. She certainly didn’t know how to separate them. She wanted Jack with every fiber of her being. He was an addiction. He was the dream she had no right dreaming.
    On the other hand, she was still furious with him for his betrayal. The only thing that had saved him was his timely rescue of her from Sam’s clutches. And Morgan wasn’t secure enough in her own skin to believe Jack had made love to her because he really couldn’t help himself.
    She sat down on the bed, feeling hurt and angry and very confused. He’d asked her to simply feel. But her feelings were tied up tighter than the knots she’d dreamed about tying in the limo.
    “I understand, kitten.”
    Morgan looked up to see him standing in front of her, a towel slung low over his hips. She couldn’t swallow any better now than the first time she’d seen him this way.
    “No you don’t,” she bit out.
    His brow lifted. His head cocked as if to ask, oh no?
    “Better yet, I don’t, Jack. That’s the problem. I don’t understand. You let me down.” He nodded, his arms widening as if to say I can’t change that . “And what you don’t, what you’ll never understand, is how many times in my life that’s happened to me. All I’ve ever wanted was the cowboy and the white horse.”
    She watched his features tighten as her knife speared his guts with razor-like accuracy. But to his credit, he simply inhaled, and raked his hand through his hair. “Sorry, kitten,” he told her, expelling that breath. “Wrong guy. I flunked hero school.”
    “I figured that out,” she replied with a derisive smile.
    He didn’t answer at first. Just sat down on the bed next to her. “I really do care about you, Morgan. Give me some time. I’ll prove it to you.”
    Morgan kept on speaking, deciding not to listen to a word he said. “You know what hurts the most? I mean, I know this might not seem true after what happened to us, but it is. I don’t just fall into bed with men.”
    He picked up her hand, gently rubbing the back with his thumb. “I believe you. Do you think you could start believing me too?”
    “I’m trying, Jack. I really am.”
    “Try harder.”
    “That is soooo easier said than done. Every time I open the gates on my feelings, those feelings get trampled. You’re smooth, Jack. Almost too smooth. Don’t you get it? I’m really tired of