“The lady has a competitive streak.” He studied her, brows knit together. “Just so you know, I find that incredibly sexy. There are lots of games we can play, but I prefer the ones where we both win. Together.”
Ignoring his attempt at distraction, she focused on her target, pressing down on the button that would release the water. When the buzzer finally sounded, her stream sailed across the booth, missing the target. She adjusted quickly and watched the red balloon grow, rapidly increasing in size. It grew and grew and—pop!
She squealed with delight and chose the pinkest, fluffiest bear from the hanging prizes. Then she offered it to Jax, loving the horrified look on his face as he realized she’d won the bear for him. “It’s tradition,” she reminded him, loving the blush that filled his cheeks. It was about time she knocked him off balance.
Finally, he accepted the bear. “If the guys ever catch wind of this, I’ll never live it down,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Did you want to try again?” she asked, striving for innocence. “Third time’s the charm.”
“Shortie, I know when to admit defeat.” He slid an arm around her waist. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I already have the prize.”
…
Jax walked Becca to her door, hardly able to believe how well the date had gone. Hell, it had gone better than he could have imagined. He just hoped she could see he was serious about a fresh start. And a real relationship with her. They’d had an amazing evening at Coney Island.
After leaving the amusement park, they’d shared a pizza at Grimaldi’s and taken a moonlit walk on the beach. It was sweet and romantic and everything their first date should have been. Even if he had failed in his mission to win her a stuffed bear. He hadn’t minded that she beat him. The way her eyes lit up when she claimed victory had been worth it. His ego wasn’t so overblown he couldn’t handle losing to a woman.
His woman.
Becca Mancini was his woman. She didn’t know it yet, but she would soon enough. He grinned. And when she finally realized it? That would be the real flash point.
She stopped at her front door and spun around. Raising her lips to his, she kissed him and slid her hand under the hem of his T-shirt. White-hot need raced straight to his cock. “Why don’t you come in for a drink?”
Using every last ounce of control he possessed, he removed her hand from his abs. He needed to stick to the plan, which would be impossible if she kept stroking him like that. “Not tonight.”
“Not tonight?” She frowned, her face falling. “You do know I was actually talking about sex, right?”
He brushed her cheek, his fingers finding their way to her tangled curls. Using his body, he backed her up to the door, pinning her with his larger frame. She looked up at him from under impossibly long lashes, her eyes growing dark.
“We’re not going to have sex on our first date,” he explained, rubbing his thumb across her lower lip. She trembled, lip quivering under his touch. “Or our second. Or even our third.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he shut her down, ravaging her lips. He poured every last bit of need he had into the kiss, his tongue skating over hers seductively as his hardened cock pressed against her belly, a sharp contrast to her softness. Damn. He needed her all right. But no matter how bad he wanted to bury himself between her thighs and make her moan with pleasure, he couldn’t do it. Not tonight. Not until she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his woman.
Then? All bets were off. He’d have her every way she’d let him and enjoy every sinful second of it.
“We’re not going to have sex until our fourth date,” he explained, tilting her chin and forcing her to look him in the eye. “Do you know why that is, Becca?”
She swallowed, her throat bobbing slowly.
“Yeah, you know, don’t you? You don’t want to admit it, but deep down, in that hot, wet place, you know.” He reached between her legs, stroking the very part of her body that ached for him. “Well, let me spell it out for you. You’ve never let any guy make it to the fourth date, have you? That’s okay. I’m not just any guy. I’m the man who’s going to break your three-date rule. I’m the one who knows every inch of your body and how to make it come apart with pleasure. I’m your man.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “And you’re my woman.”
Chapter Eighteen
Becca sat at her desk, staring at a blank monitor. She was supposed to be writing a press release for an upcoming charity event, but between the gallery submissions and Jax, her brain was otherwise occupied.
You’re my woman.
Jax’s words kept echoing through her brain. Part of her rebelled against the idea. It was archaic. Restrictive. Neanderthal. But the other part of her? The part she’d thought no longer dreamed of fairytale romance? That part of her reveled at the idea of being Jackson Hart’s woman, the thought infusing her with warmth that wrapped around her like a silk blanket.
His woman.
The one he’d make love to on hot summer nights, the one he’d hold close to his heart and share his life with…if they could get past the fatal fourth date. That was a big if.
She sighed. It was pointless. She was completely and utterly incapable of focusing. Maybe she’d call Quinn. They could meet up for an early lunch, and she could try the press release again later. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and unlocked the screen.
One missed call.
Tapping the voicemail button, she brought the phone to her ear.
“Hello, this message is for Rebecca Mancini. My name is Madeline Shortt and I am one of the curator’s at 440 Gallery. I received your portfolio and would like to discuss your work. You can reach me at seven-one-eight—” She scrambled for a pen and a scrap of paper, heart racing, and jotted down the number. “I look forward to speaking with you.”
The message ended, and she dropped the phone on the desk.
Holy. Crap.
She stared at the gallery number, hands shaking. Should she call right away, or was that too desperate? Maybe it would be better to wait a few hours. Oh, who cared? The suspense was killing her. Collecting her thoughts, she picked up the phone and dialed.
Twenty head-spinning minutes later, she had an offer to show her work—in short order—at 440 Gallery. Another artist had pulled out, and she was in. Talk about good timing. Heart bursting with joy, she did a happy dance at her desk. She needed to tell someone, to share the good news.
No, she needed to tell Jax. After all, he was the only one she’d even told about her submissions.
Hmm, I wonder why that is?
All right, I get it. No need for sarcasm.
She dialed his number, chewing her bottom lip as the phone rang.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey, yourself,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. He seemed to have that effect on her lately. Talk about a turn of events. “You’re never going to believe who just called me.”
His laughter came across the line rich and smooth. “In that case, why don’t you just tell me?”
“440 Gallery. They want to include my work in an upcoming exhibition.” She squealed again, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “Can you believe it?”
“Can I believe it?” he asked. “After seeing the photos you took on the ride along? Definitely. They’d be crazy not to want you. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” she said, resting her chin in her hand. “I just can’t believe it’s really happening. First the FDNY Calendar of Heroes and now an exhibition? It’s like a dream come true.”
“I have a feeling this will be the first of many Mancini shows,” he returned, without hesitation. “Which means we need to celebrate. I’m taking you to dinner tonight.”
“Tonight?” she asked, sitting up straight.
“Unless you have other plans?”
She quickly ticked off their dates in her head. There was the first night at Coney Island. Then he’d taken her to the Promenade for a picnic at sunset. And l
ast week he’d asked her to the Whitney for a lesson in art appreciation. Dammit. This date was unlucky number four. But she wanted to say yes. God, did she want to say yes.
So, say yes. What’s the big deal?
The big deal? The words were lodged in her throat like a bowling ball. This was a big freaking step. And they both knew it.
“Becca?” he asked quietly. “You still with me?”
“No,” she blurted out, her belly churning anxiously. “I mean, no, I don’t have any plans.”
“So, yes to dinner?” he asked, his voice flooded with relief.
“Yes.” Confidence surged through her body. This was right. She knew it in her bones, all the way down to her curled toes. A fourth date with Jax meant something akin to commitment. It also meant pleasure. “What time are you picking me up?”
…
Jax tugged at the collar of his shirt as he rode the elevator up to Becca’s apartment. He hated dressing up, but this was a big day for her, and he wanted it to be special. Landing her first gallery exhibition was something she’d remember for the rest of her life. No matter how many shows she booked in the future, the first would always be the most memorable.
It was also their fourth date, which was a pretty big deal, too. For both of them. He’d sensed her initial hesitation, but when she’d accepted, her decision had been firm. And damn if that hadn’t given him the confidence to take the next step. He was going to ask her for a commitment. She wasn’t dating anyone else, but he wanted to make it official, so she’d know how serious he was about their relationship.
Six months ago, the idea of asking a woman for something more would’ve caused him to break out in hives, but Becca was different. She was everything he wanted in a woman. Passionate, loyal, funny, driven, beautiful. And she understood him in a way no one else could, including his passion for the job. He wanted more from her, and he wanted to be more for her. The only way that could happen was if they had the guts to put their hearts on the line.
It wouldn’t be easy, but dammit, they had to try. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Becca was waiting for him when he arrived at the fifth floor.
“You look incredible,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her neck. Dressed in a short white dress that complimented her olive complexion, and a pair of ankle boots, she looked good enough to eat. Hell, he was ready to skip right to dessert. “You smell good, too.”
“Nice try, lover boy. I’m starving.” She laughed and grabbed his hand, dragging him into the elevator. “Where are we eating?”
“Mancini’s. I’ve been craving your mom’s pasta all week.” What he didn’t say was that her closest friends and family had gathered at the restaurant to celebrate the news of her exhibition.
When they stepped through the door to Mancini’s, the restaurant broke out in a raucous round of applause and cheering. Becca turned first to him and then to the bar where a homemade “Congratulations, Frankie!” banner hung.
“Did you do this?” she asked, looking up at him with glassy eyes.
“As much as I’d like to keep you all to myself tonight, I thought you should share this moment with all the people you love most.”
“Thank you,” she said, bracing a hand against his chest.
“You’re welcome.” He lowered his mouth to her ear, his heart hammering beneath her palm. “Don’t worry. I plan on taking you back to my place later to make up for lost time.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said, brushing a kiss across his lips for all her friends and family to see.
They spent the next couple of hours eating and drinking and stuffing themselves with dessert. It was the Mancini way, and he relished being part of it, watching Becca laugh and celebrate with those nearest and dearest to her.
“So, it’s official, then?” Christopher asked, wiping down the bar and following Jax’s gaze to his sister. “You two going together?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.” Jax sipped his beer. “Ask me again tomorrow.”
“Good luck, man.” Chris poured a shot of whiskey and slid it across the bar. “You’re like a brother to me, but she’s blood. You hurt her, and you’ll be answering to me.”
Jax nodded and raised the whiskey to his lips. The alcohol burned a path to his belly, solidifying his resolve. “I’ll take good care of her.”
Chris slapped the bar and returned to his family, giving his sister a bear hug and kissing the top of her head.
“I’ll take good care of her,” he repeated, promising himself he would be true to his word. He’d never hurt her, not again. Becca deserved the best, and somehow he’d find a way to be that man.
For her.
When the party finally wrapped up, and they’d closed down the restaurant, they headed back to his place. Although they’d both had plenty to drink, the conversation weighing on his mind was sobering. He hoped like hell she felt the same way he did.
Becca wandered through his apartment barefoot, admiring all the eclectic pieces he’d found to fill the small space. “You have good taste,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him as she dragged her fingers across the top of a refurbished buffet table.
She looked right at home under his roof, a thought that made his balls tight as he watched her sashay back down the hall, shaking her ass all the way. The urge to possess her completely, in body, mind, and spirit, surged.
First things first. He grabbed a bottle of water and followed, finding her sitting on the bed.
“This is our fourth date.” As if he could possibly forget. His restraint had been pushed to the limit over the last few weeks as she’d tried to convince him to ditch his four-dates-before-sex rule. “You know what that means?”
Oh, he knew all right. His cock wouldn’t let him forget. Nor would that short little skirt. He knew exactly what was underneath, and he wanted it bad. But first they needed to talk.
Fuck.
Maybe his man card was at risk after all. Conversation before sex? The woman really did have him tied up in knots.
“Before we go any further, there’s something I want to ask you.” He sat on the bed next to her, twisting the top off the water bottle and offering it to her. “Are you in or are you out?”
She sipped the water, her eyes shifting around the room as if she might find the answer pinned to the wall.
“I’m all in, but I need to know if you feel the same way. I want it all with you, Becca. Not just a couple of dates and hot sex. I want the relationship, the labels, the commitment. All of it.”
Her gaze settled on the dresser. She set the water bottle on the nightstand and slipped off the bed, padding across the room. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the card on the dresser.
“You don’t recognize it?” He stood and joined her, peering over her shoulder.
She opened the valentine, hands shaking, and read the inscription.
Love, Frankie.
“I wasn’t even sure you ever got it.” She placed the card back on the dresser with care and turned to him, curiosity lighting her eyes. “You never said anything.”
“What could I say?” He shrugged, hating the way the conversation had turned to old wounds for both of them. “I knew I wasn’t good enough for you, but I was determined to try. That’s why it took me three months to ask you out. I wanted to prove to myself that I could be better—for you.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, grounding himself in the present. “Unfortunately, my old man had different plans. After my mom passed, he wasn’t…he was different. Difficult to live with, unpredictable, drank a lot. It was the reason we moved constantly.”
“I’m so sorry, Jax.” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. His gut twisted. This wasn’t going right. Not. At. All. She glanced at the card. “After all these years, you still have it. Why?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. The truth was a real bitch sometimes. He didn’t want her pity, but she deserved the truth, no matter how bad it hurt him. �
�It was the only valentine I ever received from someone who actually cared about me, and who I cared about in return.”
She nodded, as if she understood. Or maybe she didn’t trust her voice. Hell, the last thing he wanted to do was make her cry.
“This isn’t about who we were before.” He laced his fingers with hers. “It’s about who we are now. I want to be with you and only you.”
“I—” She glanced around helplessly. “That’s—”
Lowering his mouth to hers, he silenced her with a kiss, his lips brushing hers softly. With Becca, he’d found home, but he needed to know she felt it, too. “I know a commitment is a big step. It scares the hell out of me, too, but there’s no one else I’d rather take this leap with. I’m falling for you, Becca. If you don’t feel the same way—”
She grabbed his neck and pulled his mouth to hers, silencing him with her lips as they moved savagely over his. The woman tasted of red wine and chocolate, a delicious, erotic combination, but he needed an answer. They couldn’t fuck their way out of this one.
“Becca—”
“I’m yours,” she said, pressing her body to his as if to prove her point. “The relationship, the labels, the commitment. All of it,” she breathed, unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve always been yours. I just didn’t know it until now.”
Holy fuck.
He needed to be inside his woman now. His cock demanded it, demanded release in the wet heat of the only woman who’d ever had his heart. No more history. No more talking.
Unzipping her dress, he slipped the straps over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and those perfect tits were right there, her hardened nipples ready for him. He leaned down, teasing them with his tongue, first the left, then the right. Drawing the rosy bud into his mouth, he sucked on it, massaging it with his tongue. She moaned, arching her back as if begging him to take her deeper into the warm recess of his mouth.
“You like that?” he asked, slipping his arm behind her back and supporting her weight. “There are so many things I could do to make you feel good. And tonight I’m going to do all of them.”
Seducing the Fireman (Risky Business) Page 14
