Surge (St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders) Book 3: St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders by Gina Watson

time. She’d start on her massage and by the time she ended up at his butt he’d turn, just as he was doing now, and offer her a teasing, naughty smirk.
    He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist while he rested her back against the tile in their small bathtub shower. She liked the size because there was barely enough room to accommodate them both and they had to remain close. In their passion neither of them could speak, but their communication was strong. His eyes tightened and pleaded for her acceptance, which she gave by roughly pulling him toward her. She groaned her impatience and he slowly entered her. Whenever they made love it was like it was their last time. Or their first time. She didn’t know, but she felt the intensity and his pinpoint focus. It was like he was deliberately trying to make their connection last as long as he could. She also wanted to be connected to him for all of eternity and even beyond, so she didn’t mind that he would get frenzied, but then slow to an almost stop just before she was about to experience bliss. He’d always come back around and work her up again. He kissed her, the shower water mixing with their saliva. His tongue slid down her chin and neck to her breast until he was at her nipple. He loitered, tracing the pebble with his tongue while his pace was steady but slow. She raked her nails across his back and his gaze caught hers.
    “I love you,” she whispered.
    A half cry, half gasp escaped his lips. “Three little words. Not enough.” His pace increased until he was assaulting her and the skin at her back stung from being pulled by the tiles. “You save me from darkness Clara. You’re everything.”
    She didn’t want him to be even on the precipice of plummeting into the depths of the darkness he spoke about. “Jackson, I hope you’re happy because you make me happier than I’ve ever been or could imagine being.”
    “Bug, I’m flipping rapturous. With your love I could hold up the world.”
    They held on to each other with hard unrelenting grips as they came together, like they always did, intense and cleansing, whole and complete.
    ≈
    Driving to the estate with her hand entwined in his, listening to her emo music, was the epitome of happiness. What she’d given him in the shower was the closest to heaven he knew he’d ever get. Fine with him. Paradise couldn’t get any better than Clara naked, sudsy, and writhing under his touch.
    Making the turn that placed the car on the estate made his skin prickle. He sensed the end of their utopian cocoon and the beginning of despair. He pulled up under a pecan tree. The scariest thing of all was he knew she felt it too. Her eyes turned down and her wringing hands communicated trouble. Given her sixth sense, he was not surprised when he exited the car and Mr. St. Martin rode up on a horse.
    “This is my boy Jackson. He’s in his final year of residency at Baton Rouge General. Jackson, I want you to meet Warren Granger. His daughter, Lexi, is inside; I’ll introduce you to her later. Told him you’d wine and dine her for the weekend. She’s got her masters in nursing. She’s twenty-seven years old. Do I smell a love connection?”
    “You always did enjoy playing matchmaker,” Warren said, and then extended his hand toward Jackson. He took Warren’s cold, lifeless grip into his, not liking the way he sized him up like a bull at auction. “Baton Rouge General. Impressive.” Jackson nodded.
    “We’ll just let you get unloaded and then I’ll do the introductions.” Laughing, Mr. St. Martin strode away alongside his business partner.
    Jackson turned and looked across the hood of the car to see Clara, frozen in place, grief etched on her face.
    “Bug, it changes nothing. I’ll get out of it. No one can compare to you.” He walked over to her and took her earlobe between his fingers. She didn’t respond, but looked to the ground. “Bug?”
    Her held breath pushed from her lungs in a painful