Everything You Are: Everything For You Trilogy 3

by Orla Bailey

  “I swore to want you.”

  “Do you? Want me?”

  I fight off inertia to twist in his arms until I’m facing him. I open my eyes to look into his. “Of course I want you, Jack. I’ve always wanted you. How could you even doubt it? Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted you.” I pause for a scant second but I totally know it. This is the absolute right time. “I love you. I’ve loved you since I was eighteen. I never once stopped loving you. It wasn’t possible. I love you so much.”

  “Cailín álainn.” He kisses me tenderly and wraps me in his arms, pulling me into his body to crush me against him as if he can’t bear to ever let me go.

  It’s the only place I ever want to be.

  Chapter Eight

  It must be contagious.

  It seems I can’t get enough of Jack either. The thought of no more dark, lonely days stretching endlessly ahead has me smiling sleepily. His heavy leg is thrown over both of mine and a strong arm wraps tightly round my waist holding me fast against him. Even in sleep he’s making certain I don’t disappear again. I’m going nowhere.

  Breathing gently against my ear, Jack nestles my shoulder beneath his chin. I tilt my head carefully to stare at his sleeping face. Without those disturbing blue eyes drilling through me I can take my time to absorb all of him. I follow his strong jawline with its dark stubble which my fingers itch to rasp over but resist. If I disturb him too much he’ll wake and take control of me. For now, I can choose where to look and how much. I take in that sweep of brow and the dark lashes feathered above sculpted cheekbones. His mouth is so luscious I can’t resist stretching slowly until my lips softly touch his.

  He stirs, mutters something and I freeze, grinning, holding my breath until he settles down again, turning his head on the pillow. I smile at my narrow escape and settle for breathing in the scent of warm bed, last night’s absolving reunion and Jack.

  I’m so very happy. I’m only ever truly happy when things are right between us and after the last few horrific days this is about as right as it can be. I’m glad I finally found the courage to tell him I love him. Part of my contentment comes from him knowing that, alone.

  Yet a brief cloud shadows my soul. He didn’t return my gift with one of his own. I was so certain out on the river he was leading us in that direction. Even at the hotel, he spat it at me like a curse but with everything that’s happened perhaps he simply needs more time. I may have him with me for now but there is no denying he has doubts over abandoning Amanda entirely.

  It’s enough to know at this moment in time he’s mine.

  I glance down the powerful column of his throat trailing my finger a hair’s breadth from touching his skin. His Adam’s apple rises and dips towards the dark hollow between his collar bones and excites me with its raw masculinity. I long to sink my teeth in; take a bite, consume him and it’s a struggle not to act on impulse.

  With the sheet lying low across his abdomen, I look my fill. His chest is muscled, toned, and the difference between his body and mine so arousing I find the definition of each chiselled valley calling my fingers with wicked intent. It’s hard to deny myself such pleasure. Arching back as much as I’m able my eyes flow down the taut, hard stomach until I can’t follow the dark hair beneath his navel any lower. Even if I dared.

  I sigh. There’s no way I can sleep again but Jack needs oblivion a while longer. I like to think it’s because he’s sated from having me again. And again. And again. The sexual gymnastics last night are a delicious memory; the sweet ache of my body, a touching reminder.

  Inch by meticulous inch I slide from under him, laughing silently at each frown and muttered complaint, to escape my welcome prison. I pad off to the bathroom, closing the door with care and shower the scent of his love-making, from my skin.

  The bathroom mirror reflects fatigue but there’s a new brightness to my eyes and an underlying vitality that has nothing to do with scant hours sleeping. I love Jack and now he knows it. My body feels curvier, my skin brighter. I’m no longer that distraught girl who pines her lost love but a woman who has discovered it. I love Jack. I love him and he knows I do.

  Back in the bedroom I listen to his quiet steady breathing for a while. Beneath such raw virility, he’s tender and vulnerable in sleep and it pleases me.

  Searching for something loose to wear over my aching muscles, I see the stark white shirt Jack wore last night lying like a dead carcass on the floor. I don’t want anything near my skin that has been worn around Amanda. Instead I shake out a much-worn old pin-stripe of Harry’s that I keep, rolling up the sleeves to mid forearm and fastening a few buttons so it doesn’t slide off my shoulders.

  I disappear into the kitchen, perch on a stool and open a can of Florida red grapefruit segments, pouring the pieces into a bowl and setting it on the counter top. Using fingers, I bite into a segment, its sweet, bitter juices overflowing my lips and trickling down my chin. I wipe them away with the back of my hand.

  Suddenly Jack tanks through the door. He halts when he sees me. Barely awake, the stark look of relief on his face is clear. “I thought you’d gone.”

  “I’m going nowhere,” I assure him. Caution him.

  “Good.” His tense muscles relax.

  I hold out my hand and he comes to me, enfolding me in his arms, hugging me to him, standing between my open knees. I kiss his bare chest with my juicy mouth leaving a sticky residue. He’s wearing nothing at all and completely oblivious to that fact, despite his Morning Glory.

  Considering it’s nearly ten thirty, does this redeem him as an early riser? I can’t decide.

  “What are you grinning at?” Jack brushes the hair back from my face, tilting my chin up so he can look at me.

  My eyes betray me as I glance down and back up, raising my eyebrows suggestively until he laughs too.

  “So what are you planning to do about it?” His voice is husky from fading sleep and reviving lust. He kisses the top of my damp head and hugs me tighter, his heart racing a little above normal as I hold him close.

  “Top up my energy levels with breakfast first.” I press my lips together.

  “Allow me to speed things up.”

  I lift a fat segment, offering it to him and he takes my sticky fingers in his and feeds himself from them. Juices flow down both our hands and he sucks my fingers one by one making thrills course through my body. He kisses me as he chews and I slurp the nectar from his lips, lapping up the excess.

  “You give me such bad ideas.” Stealing my bowl of grapefruit, he separates another wet chunk which he pops between his lips and slowly feeds into my mouth, following it with his tongue. As I can’t chew he presses it against the roof of my mouth until it bursts in a sweet waterfall that dribbles down our chins. He rubs the liquid into my face with his prickly jaw.

  “You can feed me like this every morning.”

  “If you feed on me every night.” His hips thrust gently against mine, as the bargain is struck. “I like having you for breakfast.”

  “Don’t you mean having breakfast with me?” I ask disingenuously. “You’ve hardly dressed for it.” I raise my eyebrows at his casual nudity. He has no shame about his body and why should he when he looks like an Olympian god?

  He pulls the front of the shirt outwards from my body to peek inside. “You, on the other hand, have come perfectly attired.” He runs sticky hands with reckless abandonment up under and all over my shirt-covered curves. He kneads my breast lazily until I wriggle on the stool and push him gently away. He pauses and directs a heavy-eyed gaze over me.

  “Are we going to be alright now?”

  He stares as if wanting to be certain. “Come here.” He hugs me tightly against his chest.

  “I love you, Jack.” I plan to tell him every day until I wear his resistance down.

  He kisses me gently and lovingly. I wonder if he’s mostly half asleep. Still in a dream. But I revise my opinion when he teases my shirt upwards, trailing fingers up my spine until my tight nipples r
asp against the crisp hairs of his chest. He tugs the garment softly over my head and drops it carelessly behind me. His hands encircle my waist and he lifts me effortlessly, turning and sitting me on the counter behind.

  “Not on my worktop,” I protest half-heartedly.

  “You want to go back to Belvedere? Use my worktop,” he mumbles lazily, sucking softly, sensually against my skin.

  Already I’m moving to his slow rhythm, gliding into our unhurried dance as he draws me to the edge, circling his thumbs over my inner thighs, higher and higher. Half-heartedly I try to push his hands away, conscious we should both be at work by now but it gets harder and harder as I succumb to the hypnotic influence of his touch and the thrill of my own flesh.

  “Are you denying me, Miss Caid?” He pauses and throws me such a look I’m not sure if he’s messing around or not.

  “Would it do any good?”

  “None whatsoever.” He takes my nipple between lip-covered teeth and tugs until I gasp. I grip his hair between my fingers and cling on as he torments first one side then the other, driving me slowly to demented desire. When he straightens, I arch my body greedily back to his.

  “In the kitchen?”

  He smiles against my skin. “Just a quickie.”

  I give a stunted laugh. “Fast food?”

  “Nutritionally inadequate but fills a hole.”

  “Jack!” I smack him on the shoulder for his crude remark but he laughs as he yanks me from the counter, making me squeal at the sudden movement as he hefts me over his shoulder.

  “I’ll have this low calorie snack to go,” he says, striding with me back into the bedroom.

  * * *

  Much later, wearing last night’s clothes, we take a taxi back to Belvedere intending to get properly attired and make at least a token appearance at work for the final few hours of our working day.

  The apartment appears to be empty.

  “Lenuta will be out shopping,” Jack says. The glint in his eye suggests he has something different in mind for me.

  “God, you really can’t get enough,” I exclaim.

  “Of you.”

  “Perhaps you need professional help.”

  “Are you suggesting psychoanalysis?”

  “What else would I be..? Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh.” His lips twitch.

  “Your mother should have warned you to stay away from professional women of that sort.”

  His grin widens. “So you’d prefer I saw a psychiatrist specialising in alleviating sex addiction?” He feigns a horrified antipathy to the idea of being cured, as he starts to undress me and kiss the skin he’s uncovered.

  “I took Psychology 101,” I offer, sighing, pulling his black leather strap through his belt buckle and unzipping his trousers. “Can I be of assistance?”

  “I’d be happy to place my huge problem in your ingenious little hands.” He pushes one of them down the front of his bulging underwear, groaning, as he draws my swollen nipple into his mouth to make me sigh.

  “Afterward I’ll refer you on to a cranial specialist for your big head!”

  He slaps me playfully on the rump. “Stop complaining. This big head is planning on wedging itself between your delicious thighs for the next half hour.”

  “I declare a miracle cure.”

  We fumble our way to his bedroom, discarding the remainder of each other’s clothing and he shuts the door behind us, lifting me into his arms and jamming me in a tight wedge between him and it. Not a moment too soon.

  We hear the arrival of the elevator and Lenuta. Jack fiddles with the door lock, trying not to drop me. We’re both giggling and shushing each other like college kids. Very naked ones.

  He hefts me over his shoulder again. “Behave yourself or you’re dead meat.”

  “And you’re for the chop. Lenuta will make mincemeat of you.”

  “I like a bit of tenderloin first thing.” He pinches my behind and I yelp.

  I can’t stop laughing so he lowers me into his arms to smother my mouth with his, making me forget in an instant what I found so funny.

  He walks me backwards to the bed.

  “Any screaming this time?” I ask.

  “Definitely no screaming.”

  “I might find that pretty nigh impossible.” I catch my breath as he sits me on the bed and drops between my thighs, sucking a gentle bruise there then tonguing through my slick heat.

  He smirks as I fight off an embarrassingly quick and noisy orgasm by wondering what he’s thinking. Before I can blink I’ve travelled halfway up the bed and he’s kneeling over me, with my thigh hooked up over one of his arms.

  “Fast and furious?” I plead, too close to change my mind.

  “You think this is a game?” After a second’s pause to enjoy my look of surprise he thrusts, full length, into me, shoving me further up the bed.

  “Perfect,” I pant.

  He pounds me to hasty orgasm, bursting from the deepest reaches of my body and I constrict around him. I’m so primed to be with Jack, I’ve never come so quickly in my life.

  I laugh off my shame. “In my professional opinion, you’re definitely furious, Mr Keogh.”

  “And you’re agreeably fast, Miss Caid.” Each burst of breath, hissing through his teeth tells me he’s held himself back until he has wrung everything from me thoroughly. “Think you have another of those inside you?” His voice holds a staccato rhythm of urgency.

  I shake my head. I’m done in.

  “Let’s try anyway.” He flips me onto my stomach and I haven’t the energy to resist, still in a weakened euphoric state, coming down from the last event horizon.

  He draws my hips back towards him, positioning me on knees and forearms as his hand strokes the length of my spine, resting finally at the nape of my neck. He gathers my hair and turns it round his fist drawing my head back.

  “Fast again for me, kitten,” he demands. “You know I’m pretty much there already.”

  He nudges at me, pulling back on my hair. Somewhere between the two I tighten and flex as he thuds into me, eliciting a moan with each slam of his hard body against my buttocks and thighs. A low groan escapes my throat.

  “I’m going to come.” He grinds the words out as if he’s in some sort of agony. “If you’re coming with me, it’ll be now, Tabby.” He administers a sharp spank to let me know he’s serious, then teases my sensitivity mercilessly.

  We release simultaneously in a melee of erratic noise and muscular contractions. Before I’m done, he hauls me up against him, wrapping his arm round my waist and cupping my breast. He nips my earlobe and pinches my nipple to extend the crisis longer.

  “That was one fantastic sleepover, kitten. Thank you.” He leans over my shoulder and kisses my jaw and the corner of my mouth. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. It’s the most energetic response I’m capable of. I think I’ve just been compensated for his two days leave of absence. Sex with Jack is spectacular. I’ve never felt more in harmony with another human being than I do with him. This is it for me.

  He carries me to the shower and props me beneath the steaming jets as he soaps my hyper-sensitive body, then his own. I cling on limply, allowing him to move me about at will until he’s done.

  * * *

  Jack checks out his appearance in the mirror.

  The mid-grey three-piece is a perfect fit. There is no doubt it has been hand-tailored and he looks so hot in business attire I consider all the women he encounters in the course of a working day. How many flirt with him or try to catch his eye? Does he show interest in them at all?

  The jealous creature who hibernates in the cave of my fragile ego reawakens. I want Jack to be as exclusively mine as I am his. He said he doesn’t love Amanda but that only puts her and me in exactly the same place. He wants me but he doesn’t love me either. Yet whatever happens, there will never be anyone that consumes me, body, mind, heart and soul, the way he does. I can’t even contemplate a different relationship that would not be
haunted to an early grave by visions of this one.

  “I love you, Jack,” I tell him again. I hang on to my absolute, like I might be sucked into the abyss by a tornado of despair if I don’t.

  He glances at me in the mirror and smiles fondly but says nothing. I can’t help worrying his trust is fragile and temporary and linked only to his sexual need for me. That need I don’t doubt. Every time I tell him I love him I fear I’m setting myself up for another gut-wrenching silence but I can’t go back. I’ve spent far too long hiding from the truth.

  If I’m nothing more than a sweet interlude in Jack’s life, which he moves on from in the end, it will shatter me in more ways than I can imagine.

  I sit crossed-legged on the bed wrapped in a damp towel. All I want is stare at him. He moves with elegance and an economy of latent power which proclaims his assured nature. He’s as confident of life as I am in perpetual turmoil over it.

  “I’ve never missed a morning meeting before. Do you have any idea how much you’re turning my world upside down?”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” I venture hopefully, the towel loosening around me.

  “Get dressed before I have to get undressed again.”

  “Got it bad, huh?” I might as well make him laugh, if I can’t make him love me.

  He doesn’t laugh. He turns and covers the distance in two strides. He drags me across the bed towards him and yanks the towel right off, smoking hot blue eyes raging over my body. “I get withdrawal symptoms every thirty minutes. Aching ones.”

  “You could always take a whole day off and come back to bed.” It’s a good suggestion. When I’m in his arms like this I barely remember I’ve got a business of my own to run. Or a heart to protect.

  He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds. “You’re a beautiful temptation. I’m going to be hard the rest of the day thinking about you looking exactly like that.” His hand glides across my naked hip.

  “So you’d rather leave me unsatisfied?” I’m in the mood to provoke him.

  He narrows his eyes, like I’ve offered a challenge he can’t resist. “I’m going to leave you in the same state you leave me. And I forbid you to do anything about it. That will be my pleasure to look forward to when I get home.”