Jack had never been bothered by being alone. He'd had company when he'd needed it, female or otherwise. When he'd needed sex, he'd found it. He'd lived his life how he'd wanted to live it: unencumbered by other people.
Yet as the years had passed, the loneliness had crept in on him. Would he live in this tiny house until he was old and gray? Would he die here, all by himself, no one to care about his passing?
He growled under his breath. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he muttered to himself.
He thought of Gwen. He remembered how she'd felt under his hands, the way she'd felt pressing against him. Her warmth, her sweetness.
She made him long for something he hadn't known he'd wanted. And despite his best efforts, he checked his phone, hoping she'd give him the answer he wanted more than he cared to admit.
The sun had long since set, the night settling around him. Jack was surprised that Gwen hadn’t given him any answer. That wasn't like her. She wasn't flaky. Had something happened?
Before his anxiety could reach panic levels, there was a knock on his front door. Who the hell was out here at this time of night? He just hoped it wasn't a tourist who'd gotten lost.
Opening the door, he braced himself to see a bunch of confused old ladies with maps. Instead, it was Gwen herself.
"Gwen," he said, staring at her.
She took a deep breath. "Yes, Jack. My answer is yes."
Chapter Ten
Jack wondered if he was dreaming. He must've fallen asleep at his kitchen table and was having a fever dream. There was no possible way that Gwen Parker was at his door, telling him what he thought he'd never hear.
But then he realized that it was misting outside, and Gwen was starting to shiver. He hustled her inside and grabbed one of the two blankets from his bed, wrapping it around her shoulders.
"Are you drunk?" he snapped.
Gwen blinked. "No."
"Are you high?"
"Um, also no."
"Then why the hell are you here?" He knew he sounded like a dick. But he wasn't capable of lowering his voice right now.
"I mean, if you want me to leave, I will. I don't want to bother you—"
Jack acted on instinct. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her. She made a little yelp of surprise, but a moment later, she melted against him. Jack sifted his fingers through her silky hair. She tasted like vanilla and sunshine.
"Are you sure?" His voice was hoarse.
"I think so." At his frown, she added quickly, "I just...I need to go slowly. If I want you to stop, you need to stop."
He furrowed his brows. "That's obvious."
"We should probably choose a safe word. Just to be, you know, safe."
Jack stepped away, his brain going a mile a minute. He also had no idea what Gwen was talking about. A safeword? Would they have to write out a contract for each of them to sign, too? Whatever happened to just enjoying each other without talking about every single detail?
"A safe word," he repeated, skeptical.
"It's a word you wouldn't normally say during sex that means 'stop.'"
"As opposed to saying the word 'stop?'"
Gwen chuckled. "You've never read or watched Fifty Shades of Grey, have you?"
"I don't even know what that is."
That made Gwen laugh harder, which Jack admittedly didn't appreciate.
"Have you been living under a rock?" asked Gwen.
"I don't have the Internet out here. So, pretty much."
"No Internet? Goodness, you really are an old man in a young man's body, aren't you? I'm surprised you didn't come to the door with a shotgun pointed at me while yelling at me to get off your lawn."
"I don't own a shotgun. I'm a fisherman. Guns aren't much use for catching things that swim. And I don't have a lawn."
They stared at each other, the tension lengthening. Jack suddenly wished he didn't live in this tiny house with barely any furniture. Gwen had never been inside his house. Very few people, in fact, had come inside the place, besides a few women who'd come over for the night when they couldn't find a room in town.
"I think our safe word should be salmon," said Gwen, breaking through Jack's thoughts. "Nobody says salmon during sex."
"Clearly you've never slept with a fisherman," was his droll reply.
That response seemed to shatter the tension. Gwen laughed, a sound that went straight to Jack's groin. With her red hair tumbling down her shoulders, her cheeks pink and her mouth red from his kisses, she looked delicious. Seductive. Dangerous.
"Salmon it is." He approached her and touched a strand of hair. "We won't do anything you don't want to do," he said seriously.
Tears sprang to her eyes. "That means so much to me."
Jack didn't want to see her tears. It made him feel strangely guilty, like he was taking on something he knew would end in failure. But he couldn't resist the temptation she presented. He was only human, after all.
"This isn't a relationship, either. We're enjoying each other until we decide we're done," he said.
She nodded. "Does that mean we can date other people?"
The thought of Gwen with another man sent a stake through his heart. Gritting his teeth, he replied, "Yeah, I guess it would."
"I'm kidding, by the way. I'm not interested in anyone else at the moment." Her pupils dilated. "Just you."
"Thank fucking God." He growled the words and kissed her.
She mewled, the sound sweet to his ears. Pushing the blanket to the floor, he pressed her against him, needing to feel her curves nestled against his hardness. It took all his self-control not to strip her naked and have her right here on the kitchen table like some animal.
This is just sex. Nothing else. He knew that. He knew this was temporary. He just had to keep telling himself that, or he'd lose himself letting Gwen burrow further into his heart.
When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she stiffened. He broke the kiss to look into her eyes. "Too much?"
"Just surprised, that's all."
"Have you never been French kissed?"
"I have, it's just—" She sighed. "I've never liked it."
Jack realized that this wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought. He'd assumed that with a little patience, he could shed Gwen's reservations within a night. Maybe two. Clearly, he'd been way over-confident.
He took her to his bed, glad that he'd recently washed his sheets. They sat together, facing each other, still fully clothed.
"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly.
She let out a shuddering breath. "I trust you."
"Then can you trust me that I want to make you feel good? This is all about you. Not me."
She nodded. "Okay. But if it gets too much, I'll use the safe word. Salmon."
"You can scream salmon into my ear if you need to."
That made her laugh a little. "That's not a sexy image at all."
"No, but you are." He twined her hair around his fingers. He wished it were daylight so he could see all the various colors in her hair. He inhaled the scent of the silky strands before kissing her softly on the side of her neck.