He did? Well then… “I want to know all about your background. Your life.” With him staring so intently at her br**sts, her ni**les ached. “I want to know what influences in life made you the type of person who can do what you do.”

“Meaning?”

“You face off with danger as if it’s a joke. In a group of Alphas, you’d take charge and no one would question it. You can be deadly, but you’re so laid-back that many people might be deceived.”

He shrugged, and with the quilt only to his waist, she got an up close view of how any movement at all sent muscles flexing over his shoulders and chest.

“I’ve been on my own a long time, that’s all. I either had to take charge or get left behind.” His hand settled on her midriff, below her br**sts, over the quilt, but still there, sending her nerve endings into overdrive. “I’m not the type who likes to follow others.”

Because most weren’t as capable as him. But he worked fine with Dare and Trace, and he had their respect. “I want to know what carved that personality. You said you don’t have any brothers or sisters, right? But what about your parents? Are they supportive? Do they approve of what you do? Do you see them often?”

He went still, so still that he didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Jackson?”

“That was a shit-ton of questions.”

She frowned. “So pick a few to answer.”

As if it didn’t matter, he shrugged again. “No siblings, thank God. I had a drunk for a dad, and Mom split when I was a teenager, so it’s better that there weren’t other kids caught in their web.”

Sympathy squeezed her heart. He said that so dispassionately, but he couldn’t possibly be that removed. “What do you mean, she split?”

“She had a boyfriend, several boyfriends, in fact. She hated how Dad drank, and she hated being saddled with me. So she took off.” He lowered the quilt more so that he could touch her bare skin.

Alani drank in a deep breath and covered his hand with her own. “That had to be awful.”

“Guess so. I never really looked like my dad, so I always wondered if Mom had been cheating even when she got pregnant with me.” His gaze lifted to hers. “Dad always wondered the same.”

Anger replaced some of her pity. “He actually told you that?”

On a humorless laugh, he said, “Many times. Not that it matters that much. There was no love lost between us, believe me.”

How sad. “He was the only father you knew?”

“Yeah.” Jackson leaned over her and kissed her belly. “Damn, woman, you smell good.”

Her heart broke for the little boy he’d once been. She put her hand in his damp hair, understanding his need to dilute the conversation. She often did the same when talking about her kidnapping. “Is he still alive?”

“Nope. He came home drunk one night, passed out in the driveway and must have hit his head. He’d been out there in the rain all night.” Jackson’s mouth curled with disdain. “After he died, I wasn’t anxious to go find another dad, ya know? If he hadn’t fathered me, oh well. I was better off without parents.”

Such an ugly, hurtful story. She stroked his hair, her voice softening. “What about your mom? Have you had any contact with her at all?”

“No. I’ve never had a burning desire to look her up, either.” He wrapped an arm around her hip and looked up at her, his attention wavering between her br**sts and her face. “Is that enough?”

Dare had told her it’d be good for her to talk, so wouldn’t the same be true for Jackson? Had he ever told anyone the whole story? Probably Trace and Dare knew, because they wouldn’t work with him without having every detail. But that wouldn’t be the same as a sympathetic, caring ear.

“You don’t ever think of them?”

He dropped his head forward with a laugh. “Why would I? Long ago I decided I’d be different from them, and then I closed that door for good.”

“Different how?”

He gave her a long-suffering smile, but cynicism narrowed his eyes. “No drinking, no whining and no miserable marriage.” He half hugged her. “Your criteria of staying commitment-free fits right in.”

But she’d never meant that, and she hated that he’d taken her comments that way. “What if you fall in love?”

His expression said loud and clear that he didn’t consider it likely. “You know, Dad claimed he drank because Mom never loved him. And during arguments, Mom told him she cheated because he never loved her.” He shook his head. “Neither one of them seemed much capable of love, if you ask me. But either way, their excuses were pretty damned thin. A drunk is a drunk because he has no willpower, and he wallows in his own weakness. A cheater cheats because she lacks morals and cares more about herself than anyone else.”

Such an awful way to view human error. “How old were you when your mom left?”

“I don’t know. Fourteen, fifteen maybe.”

Caught between being a boy and a man. “It must have been really tough coping.”

“I slept around a lot.” He dragged the quilt a little lower and tried to kiss her again, this time on her hip bone.

Alani’s hand clenched in his hair.

“Ow, damn.”

She loosened her hold and gave him an apologetic caress. “What do you mean, you slept around a lot?”