As if he was a mind reader, in a husky voice, he asked, “May I kiss you?”
She closed her eyes and reached for him, feeling as if he’d offered her a Big Gulp after days of wandering the desert.
Based on his behavior, she anticipated a gentlemanly kiss, a soft touch, like his kiss in the woods. Instead, he came in like a tornado, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his body, chest to knees. Her back bowed over one of his arms, and his lips came down on hers with a rough edge and a burning intent.
She raised the white flag. She wanted him. Not because of a job, not because of her father, or his father. Just . . . because.
He cupped her nape with one hand while the other supported her back. She fit her curves against his hard body. His tongue flicked at her lips, and she opened her mouth, tilting her head and grabbing his shoulders with both of her hands, clutching and pulling the soft cotton of his shirt.
The hand on her back inched lower until he squeezed her bottom and rocked his pelvis into hers. A bulge pressed against her belly. An erection. His erection. He wanted her too. She slid her tongue alongside his.
Her mind refused to be quieted. How long had it been since she’d allowed passion to wrest her control away? What would happen if she did? Would he hurt her? Would she hurt him?
Hush, her body hissed.
He took control, helping to muffle the damning voice. He cupped her bottom with both hands, lifted her to her toes, and pressed her against the cool planks next to the front door. Then he cuffed her forearms and pressed them to either side of her head. His gentle domination softened her resistance and sparked her senses. Her crippling doubts turned to ash.
Her head lolled back, and he pressed kisses down her neck. If he hadn’t been supporting her, she might have crumpled like a marionette at his feet. She curled her leg around his calf, needing to feel him against her. He hiked her leg up farther and slid his hand under the bunched edge of her skirt to caress the back of her thigh.
He raised his head, and she wove her free hand through his hair, trying to pull his mouth to hers. He resisted. “You need to understand something, Jessie.”
“What?” Trepidation stiffened her in his arms.
“This thing between us doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Montgomery Industries. I’m kissing you because I want you.” He circled his erection against her hipbone. “Why are you kissing me?”
She shifted forward and kissed him roughly, nipping and sucking at his bottom lip, giving an answer she was unable to put into words. Their tongues entwined and danced.
He pulled his lips from hers, yet close enough to feel his puffs of breath. “Why are you kissing me?”
A heated embarrassment added to the maelstrom of emotion battling inside of her. She never cursed, much less talked dirty.
He shifted his torso backward, and she tried to follow but he recaptured her arms in his gentle grasp and pressed them against the side of the house. “Tell me.”
Her breasts ached to be back against his hard chest. She looked to where bugs swarmed a dim streetlight, her eyes almost drifting shut. “I want you too. I wanted you before I knew who you were. When you were rough and filthy and my Mountain Man.”
His rumbling growl vibrated through her body. He rucked her skirt higher and slid his hand over her bottom. The warmth of his touch intensified the throb between her legs. Cursing the thin cotton of her underwear, she curled her pelvis toward him and instigated another kiss.
Nothing mattered except the press of his body, his lips, his hands. Worries of the past and fears of the future didn’t exist.
She twisted her arm out of his grasp and yanked on his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. The one leg supporting her trembled, and she fell farther into his embrace, burying her face in his masculine-scented neck, finally freeing his shirt from the waistband of his jeans. She ran her hands up his back, all smooth, flexing muscle as he shifted to support more of her weight.
“I should leave,” he said on a groan.
A shot of fear tempered her desire. Fear he would walk away and their brief, explosive connection would be severed forever.
“No, you really shouldn’t.” She wanted him to claim her, right here against the house. She opened her mouth, but after all the other embarrassing things that had shot out of her mouth, her brain finally balked. All she could manage was a throaty, “Please.”
“I’m trying to be a goddamn gentleman, but you’re making things a mite difficult, darlin’.”
A sweet wave rushed through her at his drawling endearment. Something beyond the physical. Breathless, she said, “Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard.”
She scored her fingernails down his back. His head fell back with a gasp. He hiked her leg higher on his hip. His blistering open-mouthed kiss stole a moan from her oxygen-deprived lungs.
He skated his fingers over the damp fabric of her panties, landing where she craved him most. Her hips bucked at his soft, exploring touch. Then his hand was gone, and he pushed her leg to the ground. Wrapping her tight in his arms, he pressed her back and lay his forehead on the wall of the house. He breathed as if he’d been running suicide drills with the team.
The moment was slipping through her fingers, as elusive as catching snowflakes. Even though he still held her, a familiar sense of loneliness pervaded. “Did I do something wrong?”
He lifted his head to meet her eyes, but the moon had risen above the portico, leaving them in deep shadows. His voice came out rusty but with a hint of humor. “Wrong? Depends on your definition. You nearly had me fucking you against this wall, and you’re so responsive, you’d probably wake the neighbors. Not to mention Lilliana.”
His assessment had her pulling her head back to look him in the eye. “What do you mean?”
His teeth flashed white. “You don’t even hear your sexy moans and whimpers, do you?”
She buried hr face in the crook of his shoulder to hide her surprise and flushing cheeks.
“Don’t be embarrassed. They’re a huge turn-on.” His voice was soft in her ear, and he nipped at her earlobe. The heat of her embarrassment transformed and grew her need. She went in search of his lips, but he evaded her.
“Jessie . . .” he breathed the nickname in her ear on a huff of laughter. “You deserve more than a quick fuck.”
She tried on a casual, teasing voice to hide her desperation. “Maybe that’s all I want, Mountain Man.”
He took a step back, leaving her sagging against the wall. “Is that all you want? I kind of thought we had more going on than that.”
She blinked, wondering how she ended up begging for a quickie while he sounded hurt about it. Most men would kill for what she was offering. “My life’s a mess. I quit my job and don’t have anything else lined up. I won’t be able to hide out in Falcon and ignore my family forever. And, trust me, you do not want to be within a hundred square miles of the fallout.”
He shuffled backward until he was leaning against a column on the opposite side of the porch. She pulled her rucked skirt back to her knees before tucking her hands behind her back against the wall. Her knees were still trembling.
“Come down to Adaline’s. I’ll give you some work.”
“I’ve never waited tables.”
He glanced down and to the side, a smile playing at his mouth. “That would not be a wise use of your talents. Although, I have no doubt you’d get big tips if you wore those heels. No, I’ve let my invoices pile up. With the first football game tomorrow, I could use some help. I realize it’s a matter of simple bookkeeping, but it’ll give you something to do. You can start Monday morning.”
“You’ll pay me?”
“Yep. Can’t afford to pay you what you were offering me though.”
The irony of the situation was nearly too perfect. He was being nice and offering her a job, because that’s the kind of man he was. “All right. I’ll be there Monday at nine sharp.”
He stepped toward her, but instead of taking her
in his arms, he pressed his hands against the wall, brushed a kiss against her temple, and nosed in her hair. Her eyes closed as a wave of goose bumps travelled over her body, and she shuddered with pent-up frustration.
“Wear something sexy,” he whispered in her ear.
The chilled night air replaced the warmth of his body. When she opened her eyes, he was opening his car door. She stepped forward and called out, “That sounds like harassment.”
“Take it up with your boss.” He tossed her another grin. The car was out of sight before the sound of the engine faded. A bullfrog’s mournful cry for a mate filled the night. With her body still thrumming from the high of Logan’s touch, she could empathize with its plight.
12
The next morning, the sun slicing between the curtains and across the bed woke her. Jessica wiggled her toes, the light reflecting like snow off the white duvet. Under the covers, as if she might get caught, she ran her hands over her hips to her unusually sensitive breasts.
What would his big hands feel like on her breasts? Or his mouth? Her nipples peaked against the old concert T-shirt she had borrowed from Lilliana. A combination of endorphins and unsatisfied sexual energy drove her out of bed, wide-awake and itching to get the day started.
She slipped into clean underwear and dug out her red pencil skirt. The waist hooked, but the zipper was a quarter inch from closing over her hips. Dropping the skirt to the floor, she stood in front of the floor-length pivoting mirror and slowly raised her gaze to assess the damage.
Her breasts bulged from the top of her C-cup bra. The dip between her waist and hips was noticeably more pronounced, making her waist look smaller. Her stomach was still flat, but she’d better work in an occasional run if she wanted to keep it that way.
Her mother, who could make a fortune guessing people’s weights at carnivals, would be horrified. With one searing glance, she could tell when Jessica over-indulged. Between the pizzas, the decadent dinners with Logan, and the bowls of ice cream and drinks she and Lilliana shared most nights before bed while talking about everything and nothing, Jessica guessed she’d put on ten pounds.
Yet Logan had told her she was too skinny the night before. Jessica spun and checked out her butt. Maybe a tad bigger. Shockingly, she didn’t feel like crawling back under the covers. She raised her arms over her head and wiggled her hips. Her breasts shimmied. If his reaction on the porch was any indication, he wanted her no matter what her butt looked like.
Thin white scars spiked out from the top and bottom edges of her bikini-cut panties on her left hip. She took pains to keep them covered, and her few serious boyfriends hadn’t delved any deeper when she told them the scars were from a childhood accident.
She presented a challenge for men, but once conquered, they eventually moved on to less complicated women. Not that she blamed them. Her job was—had been—her priority, and in her experience, men required more ego stroking than she was willing to supply.
Things with Logan were different. Gawky and uncertain around him, she was the one who required reassurances, but her scars hadn’t even crossed her mind last night with Logan. She’d shared more of herself with him than she’d ever intended to. He seemed to understand her, not in the nodding way her therapist did, but bone-deep. It scared her. It excited her.
She grabbed a different skirt, tight but zippable, and her last clean silk blouse, the delicate fabric pulling apart over her bust. Either she would need to crash diet or buy new clothes. Working at Adaline’s probably pushed option one off the table. How could she resist his mac and cheese?
The smell of hazelnut coffee drew Jessica straight to the kitchen. Instead of the baggy paint-splattered T-shirt she normally wore, Lilliana stood at the sink in a tight blue and white Falcon T-shirt that accentuated surprisingly full breasts on her petite frame.
Lilliana got down another mug, poured her a cup, and handed it over. “Are you getting pumped up?”
“I-I don’t start until Monday.” Had Logan told Lilliana already?
“Monday? I’m talking about Falcon’s first game tonight.”
Jessica relaxed and propped her hip on the counter. “So that’s what all the blue and white bunting is about downtown. I’ve never been to a football game.”
“Bless your heart.” Lilliana looked at her as if she were an alien life form. She tucked a book with receipts shooting out of either end under her arm and headed toward the mudroom. “You’re coming tonight, so you’d best trot your booty downtown and buy a team T-shirt. By the way, Jeb called and said your car is fixed.”
Jessica grabbed the keys to her loaner. “You need anything from town?”
Lilliana dropped the account book by the computer and rubbed at her forehead, her worry palpable. “Could you stop by the bank and bribe Ben Larkin to approve my loan? I’m stuck on renovations until he does.”
Jessica gave her a tight, commiserating smile. “I could loan—”
Lilliana held her hands up, warding off the offer. “I appreciate the thought, but I refuse to borrow money from a friend.”
“You’ll make it work, Lilliana. Miss Esmerelda has faith in you, and so do I.”
“Faith is fine in church but doesn’t go too far in the real world. I learned that a long time ago. Now, I’m going to depress myself a little longer by checking my math. Speaking of my aunt, you mind returning the library books?” Lilliana sat at the computer and clamped a pen between her teeth.
After trading the cars and paying Jeb, a bespectacled man who besides the grease under his nails looked like he would be more at home in the local bank, Jessica parked on Main Street. Besides the unusual number of people strolling in and out of shops, something else struck her. Everyone wore blue, white, or a combination of the two.
She joined the crowd, wandering in and out of various shops, buying some new, more-casual clothes at a women’s boutique. In Richmond, the total wouldn’t have registered, but now without a job, she had to take a deep breath before handing over her credit card. She left wearing a pair of crisp white shorts and a snug fitting V-neck blue cotton shirt embossed with a flying falcon holding a football in huge talons. When in Rome and all that.
She tossed the bags of new clothes into the car and grabbed the books to return to the library. She’d read the political thriller but hadn’t cracked open the nonfiction account of the stock market crash of 2001.
Blistering heat from the mid-morning sun was amplified by the asphalt. In contrast, the marble of the library reflected the high-powered AC. Jessica had an urge to lay down and press her cheek against the floor. Miss Esmeralda stood behind the circulation desk.
The tap of Jessica’s heels had the old woman looking up and over the rim of her bejeweled glasses. The sun caught on the metal frames, flashing blues and greens around the woman’s colorful bottle-red hair. Her smile was warm and cut deep grooves in her otherwise smooth and milky white cheeks. Unlike her carefully preserved face, age spots covered the back of her hands, and her knotty knuckles were in juxtaposition with the delicate rings on her fingers.
“Hello there, dear. Where’s that niece of mine?”
“At home working on her budget.”
“You’re welcome to check out some more books. I’ll put them on Lilliana’s card.”
Not anxious to leave the cool building, she browsed through the non-fiction section, picking up a biography of Alan Greenspan. Then, she wandered toward the paperbacks.
A book cover with a man wearing nothing but a kilt caught her attention. His chest was hairless and abnormally muscled. She glanced to either side of her before picking it up, embarrassed by how appealing she found it. It made her think of Braveheart but with better hygiene. Was this how teenager boys felt looking at porn magazines?
“That’s a good one, but this one is even better.” The voice made her jump and drop the sexy Highlander. Darcy Dalton stood at her elbow holding out a different book with a woman in a jewel-toned floor-length gown.
Jessica retrieved th
e dropped book and tucked it against the hardback in her arms, the nearly naked Highlander chest to chest with a beaming Alan Greenspan. Darcy held the new one out with a smile and waggling eyebrows. Just like Logan. Jessica’s shoulders unwound. “I didn’t think you’d read this kind of stuff.”
“Why on earth wouldn’t I? They’re awesome. I spent my summers at the library with Ada. Now she loved a good romance too, but she would have tanned my backside if she’d known I was filching steamy romances at age ten.”
“I’ve never read one,” Jessica said.
“In that case . . .” Darcy pulled out books until Jessica balanced half a dozen bare-chested men and bosomy women in her arms.
Jessica muffled her laughter after hearing it echo off the marble. “This is plenty, thanks.”
“Miss Esmeralda is our romance curator. She’s read more than I have. Lately, I feel like I’m living a romance novel.” A soft smile curled Darcy’s lips and softened her face. A green ribbon of emotion tightened Jessica’s chest, but Darcy cut through to Jessica’s heart with her gaze. “Logan is a good man. One of best, in my somewhat biased opinion.”
“Yes. He’s been—” A flash of Logan pressing her against the wall sprang into her head, muddling her thoughts. “He cooked me dinner.”
Darcy hummed. “He’s cooked dinner for lots of women, but he’s never taken one up into the woods with him.”
“Wait, what? How many women?”
“None that’s lasted. He likes to keep things casual, so no one gets hurt. My cuz is all about keeping it light.” Darcy straightened the spines of the books on the shelf, but she side-eyed Jessica.
How many women were ‘lots’? Was she one in a long line? Did it matter? Wasn’t she destined to leave him behind? Her logic laid out the questions while her heart stomped in womanly outrage.
Darcy stared as if waiting for answers to questions she hadn’t actually voiced.
“I better go.” Jessica did an about-face and walked out of the library without checking out any of the books in her arms.
Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama Page 13
