Committed to You

Chapter 4 Those Darn Feelings

Dillon stood at the doorway being a sentinel at his home. His arms were crossed on his chest. He darkly eyed the person who had rung the doorbell with speculation.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Jensen?"

"If you're Justin, you're barely welcome to come in. If you're Jet, tuck your tail and head back across the street."

"I'm okay with barely welcome," he laughed, "I'm Justin."

"I wish you Trents would stay across the street. Every time I think about my daughter being gone for seven long years because ... "

"She's here today. Is that worth anything to you? I would think you'd be so happy to have her home that yesterday wouldn't matter."

"Don't come over here telling me how to feel."

"Besides what did the rest of us do? At some point you need to forgive our whole family."

Dillon mumbled something under his breath and walked toward the back of the house. "Sloan, Justin is here to see you."

A few moments later Sloan entered. "Hi, Justin," she chuckled. "It's so good to finally see you, but I should be chasing you off with a pitchfork after what you did at the airport."

"Good to see you too, Sloan. You look absolutely amazing. Dad can't wait to see you. I came by to see if you would like to come with me to the store? He's finally back at work."

"Sure."

He opened the door for Sloan. She walked past him, a warm smile on her face, as she was happy to see him. "How are things in Boston?"

As soon as the door closed, Sloan felt a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around, and arms locking about her waist, pulling her in tight.

Here we go again. Sloan mused as the reality of the switch tingled her nerves. Everything happened so quickly she didn't have time to think. When she was about to open her mouth in protest, it was silenced by wanting lips. She struggled for a second, but he put his hand to her nape and held her face close to his.

The kiss was soft. He pulled back, looking into those beautiful, brown eyes. Was she going to slap him? He studied her, no. He saw want reflected in her eyes. She did turn her head to resist. He cupped her face, turning her toward him.

"I hate you, Jetson Trent. You and Justin need to quit playing these childish switching games."

"Would you have seen me any other way?" He watched as her eyes narrowed. There was something beautiful in those rich pools of mud when she was angry. He lowered his face, still watching her. He smirked when she didn't move, knowing that his lips were headed dead toward hers. "Don't hate me, Sloan," he whispered.

"But I do."

Jet's lips brushed over hers. He felt her body tremble, and that sent a rush through him.

"Dillon would have a shotgun at your back if he knew you had tricked him and were attempting to kiss me."

"Attempting?" Jet closed the distance between them, and kissed her hard. Sloan's breath hitched as he deepened the kiss. The rapturous sensation traveled from his lips, flooding his entire body. This kiss was insatiable, urgent, traveling across seven years of sorrow and erasing the pain. His hands slowly caressed her arms, shoulders and slipped around her neck.

"Do you still hate me, Sloan?"

She nodded yes, but her body said no as her hunger for the kiss ruptured. She pulled his face back toward her lips, aching for more. He plundered her for a long while. Beads of sweat formed on his back. She was carrying him back to passionate places—to times when their love was full and running over. His heart was pounding out of control. He knew that she was right there with him as her breathing began to change. He was elated over her response and took her deeper still, each of them drawing pleasure from a well of love that he thought had gone dry. This well wasn't dry at all. It was refreshing his very essence. This was so much more than he had anticipated, and he relished it until the magic broke.