“Jazz…” she cried out as the fierce, fiery lash of sensation began racing through her again.

Thick, hard flesh pushed inside her, working in by increments as the clenching, orgasming flesh parted hesitantly around his cock.

Each thrust inside, each burrowing impalement tore a cry from her lips until his cock was locked inside her full-length, throbbing, pulsing, pushing her back into the race for ecstasy.

“You make me crazy.” Coming over her, one arm locking beneath her hips to keep them raised, his lips moved to her shoulder, her neck. “Feel how tight you are around me, Kenni. So tight and hot.”

She moaned at the explicit words, her hips arching back, fingers curling into the blankets as his thrusts became harder, faster. Pounding into her as she cried out for more, begged for more as his mouth settled at her neck and his teeth raked the sensitive flesh.

As though it were a trigger the added stimulation set off an explosion that encompassed her entire body. Shuddering, quaking at the extremity of the pleasure raking over her senses, Kenni heard herself crying out to him as the explosions threw her back into the storm and left her wasted and exhausted beneath him as he found his own release.

Heat spilled inside her, jetting against her gripping flesh, sinking inside her as another shudder of pleasure tore through her.

If she lost this … When she lost Jazz, she would grieve for the pleasure he brought her. She hadn’t shed tears in so many years, but Kenni had a feeling that losing Jazz would give birth to a river of tears.

“You are an addiction,” he rumbled against her ear as he moved, easing his weight from her to collapse beside her on the bed. “Better than any drug I’ve heard of.”

No, that was Jazz, not her.

He was the drug, and she was hopelessly addicted.

Curling against his side as he dragged her closer, Kenni opened her eyes and stared toward the balcony doors.

“Is Cord right?” That question had followed her into the night. “Did I deliberately endanger all of you because I’m too weak to fight?”

He stilled against her, his muscles tightening dangerously before he pushed her to her back and rose over her to stare into her eyes.

“That’s not what he said, Kenni,” he growled down at her. “That’s what you’re trying to tell yourself so you can keep holding back, protecting your heart from loving anyone too much. That’s what Cord was trying to tell you. You can’t keep running from those who love you, not when all that love is bottled up inside you, ready to explode free. You’ll kill yourself keeping it locked up like that.”

“But I’m not doing that, Jazz,” she whispered.

Was she doing that? She couldn’t see it. She admitted to loving them, to herself. Her brothers, Poppy, Jazz … God, she loved Jazz until her heart ached. He was her heart, he was so firmly entrenched in her woman’s soul that she couldn’t get him out if she wanted to.

“Think about it, Kenni,” he advised, and though it was done gently that flash of dark dominance, of strength, flashed in his eyes before he glanced at the clock. “Hell, Cord’s due here in an hour or so. He texted late last night that he wanted to show us something.”

The irritability in his voice distracted her for a moment.

“Cord means well…”

“Hell, Kenni, I know that, or I would have already shot him.” Rising, he pulled on the cotton pants next to the bed.

Following suit, Kenni retrieved her sleep shirt then a pair of light lounging pants that went with it.

“Go shower.” She nodded to the bathroom. “I’ll let the dogs out. Marcus and Essie will let you know if I have any problems.”

The puppies were dancing around, obviously trying out their new housebreaking skills. Squirrel stood before her, whining pitifully as Jazz’s expression tightened warily.

“Go.” She waved him to the bathroom door. “I’ll let them out and I might even consider fixing your breakfast.”

His brow arched. “You can cook?”

“I am an excellent cook,” she informed him with mock offense. “If you’re very lucky, you just may have perfectly fried eggs, bacon, and homemade biscuits waiting when you come down.”

She could see the avarice in his gaze now. Pure, manly greed for a favorite meal. There was also concern though. Letting her go without him bothered him.

“Come on Jazz, Marcus and Essie would pitch a fit if I needed you. You know that,” she promised solemnly, only barely holding back her laughter.

“Eggs, bacon, and homemade biscuits?” Evidently he wanted to be certain his hearing was in good working order.

“I said so, didn’t I?” she pointed out in exasperation. “Now go, or Squirrel will wet your floor again, and that I do not clean up.”

Jazz turned and moved quickly for the shower as Kenni moved for the bedroom door.

*   *   *

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Jazz stared at the closed bedroom door as he slipped from the bathroom and moved to where he’d put his phone on its charger next to the bed.

Pulling the cord free he flipped it open, hit Slade’s contact, and waited.

“’Bout time you called,” Slade asked wryly as he answered the call on the first ring.

He’d been waiting for him, Jazz knew. Hell, he should have called the night before but he’d been too busy watching Kenni sleep. Hell, watching her breathe.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to piece some of this crap together,” he sighed. “I was going over Kenni’s files yesterday and something’s nagging the crap out of me. Evidently it’s bothering Cord, too. He texted last night, he’s going to be here in about an hour. I was hoping you and Zack could show up as well.”

“Zack came around the mountain yesterday to see if anyone was watching. He said Deacon and Sawyer had their eyes on the house.”

“Yeah, they’ve been taking turns with Cord,” he snorted. “Guess they don’t trust me with their baby sister, right?”

A chuckle came across the line. “That’s possible. I have a feeling it’s too late to worry about her virtue, though.”

“Damned straight.” He grinned. “She’s mine.”

“We’ll be there in an hour or so then,” Slade assured him. “Have some coffee ready.”

“Will do.” Hanging up the phone he reminded himself to make sure Kenni knew company might be there for breakfast and hurried toward the shower.

What pulled him up before he reached the door he wasn’t certain. The balcony doors were closed so he couldn’t hear the dogs barking. Glancing out into the side yard, he noticed Marcus and Essie weren’t romping on the lawn like usual.

Sliding over Jazz opened the lock slowly, cracking the door just enough to hear Marcus’s and Essie’s furious growls.

Son of a bitch. That sound from their throats only meant one thing.

Grabbing the phone, he hit the SOS.

He was dressed in seconds. Pulling on his boots, he checked the concealed knife tucked under the heel. Pulling his Glock from a drawer, he chambered it swiftly before pushing it into a holster and tucking it at the small of his back. Another he didn’t bother holstering; that one he gripped in both hands before moving to the door Kenni had left just slightly cracked.

The house was far too quiet—unnaturally so but for the muted sound of the dogs’ snarls and growls. Moving silently down the stairs, careful to make certain he stayed in the carpeted areas, Jazz paused before moving into the foyer where he could be seen.

From where he stood he could see the television room. Marcus was at the dog door, digging at the metal barrier blocking it. Foam spilled from his mouth as he snarled and barked at his inability to force his way in.

Essie was pacing the fence line, looking for a way out of the yard. God help whoever was in the house, because Essie knew what she was doing. She just hadn’t been able to do it since conceiving the pups.

Ten minutes, he thought. Fifteen at the most before the cavalry would crash this little party after he sent out the SOS.