Hold Me Until Midnight

by Christina Phillips

  “What’s wrong with the sitting room?”

  She glanced at a nearby sofa. “Oh. Right. Well, let me get the lights, then.”

  He thought it was light enough, but if she wanted the overhead chandelier all lit up as well who was he to argue. “Allow me.”

  He left her standing by the bar, went to the panel and flipped the switch.

  Scarlett blinked, her mouth agape. “What did you do that for?”

  “What?”

  “The chandelier.” She waved her hand at the offending object. “I meant we needed to turn the lights off.”

  She wasn’t making sense. “But then I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

  A pained expression crossed her face. “We could keep one of the small side lamps on.”

  He had a better idea. “How about this?” He flipped all the switches off except for the chandelier. Rainbows scattered across the floor and walls.

  “I guess that’s okay.” There was doubt in her voice as she watched him prowl toward her. He pulled his shirt from his pants, intending to rip it over his head. “No, stop.” She gripped his wrist and a wicked smile lit up her face. “Allow me.”

  He had no problem with that. “You do know I’ll return the favor.”

  She undid another of his buttons. “I’m counting on it.”

  The concentration on her face as she worked her way down his shirt was kind of amusing. From this angle he had a view down her cleavage, and combined with the sound of her uneven breathing, the amusement was rapidly becoming outweighed by lust.

  How long did it take to unbutton a shirt, for God’s sake?

  “There.” Scarlett looked up at him. “Almost done.” She undid the buttons at his cuffs and eased his shirt over his shoulders, as though he were made of glass and might shatter if she moved too quickly.

  He wasn’t made of glass, but he might well shatter if she didn’t get a move on.

  He gritted his teeth and sucked it up. She was worth the wait.

  Slowly she inched his shirt over his biceps. He’d give her another minute to enjoy her power and then he’d take control—before he damn well lost it.

  She drew in a sharp breath, her gaze riveted on his chest. “What happened?” Her fingers hovered over the scar, as though she was afraid to touch him.

  He couldn’t believe Scarlett was asking him about his old battle scars right now.

  “Nothing. Just a broken bottle.”

  “A broken bottle?” She sounded horrified. “That’s awful.”

  She obviously wasn’t letting this go until she had all the bloody details. He should’ve gone with just a side lamp like she’d suggested. Maybe then she wouldn’t have noticed.

  “Could have been worse. Bastard was aiming for my face.”

  Tentatively, she touched the puckered skin with the tip of one finger. Unfortunately, he couldn’t feel a thing, since his nerves there were permanently damaged.

  “I hope justice was served.”

  “It was.” But not in the way she likely thought. When Jackson had recovered from surgery, he’d paid the guy a visit. Not that he intended telling Scarlett that.

  At seventeen he’d brandished his scar like a Medal of Honor, but now, nine years down the track, he knew how lucky he’d been to come out alive in that particular fight.

  It had taken him another year, and a knife in the back, before he’d finally come to his senses and gotten out of the game.

  “Was that the same time you broke your nose?”

  What was this, twenty questions?

  “No. Did that when I was fourteen.” During his first official street fight, two weeks after Alex had been hauled off to juvie and their gran had moved in. On the upside, he’d won that fight and more than a fistful of dollars, but set the pattern of his life for the next four years, until the knife incident.

  “Sounds like you had a dangerous youth.”

  “I could take care of myself.” But I wasn’t able to take care of Cooper. He shoved the guilty memory of his little brother aside, but it clawed through him all the same. “Let’s just say I was dangerous to know.”

  “I’d say you’re still dangerous to know.”

  “You’d be right.”

  She gave a sexy half-smile before pulling his shirt off his arms and dropping it onto the floor. Then she ran the tip of her finger along his fly.

  He gripped her wrist. “Like playing games, do you?”

  “I guess I do.” There was a hint of laughter in her words. “What about you?”

  He pressed the palm of her hand against his erection. “I always play to win, babe.”

  “Good to know.” Her voice dripped with temptation. “Forewarned and all.”

  It appeared she’d forgotten he was still half dressed. With brutal economy he shoved his pants down his legs. Scarlett’s gaze dropped.

  “Your turn.” He pulled her against him. The silk of her dress and the warmth of her body molded to his naked skin in a fuck-me-now caress. He searched for a zipper or buttons along her back, and found neither. “How the fuck does this thing come off?”

  “Hooks and eyes.” Her voice was uneven. “It’s a nightmare.”

  Yeah, and it was a nightmare he had no intention of navigating. He grasped the top her dress, where it draped off her shoulders, and wrenched the silk apart.

  Scarlett gasped and stiffened in his arms. “You ripped the dress.” Shock spiked each word. Obviously she had never played this particular game before.

  “Were you planning on wearing it again?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  He ripped the rest of the material and her dress slithered to the floor in a pool of green silk. Scarlett gaped and folded her arms across her breasts as he drank in the sight of her gorgeous body, clad in nothing but a lacy green thong and sexy stilettos.

  She hitched in a ragged breath and he waited for her to slap his face or something. Not that it would make any difference. Ripping the dress off her had been fucking hot.

  “That was…” She hesitated for a second. “Unexpected.”

  He dragged his gaze up from her heels, admiring her legs. He knew she wasn’t really that tall, but those shoes made her legs go on forever. “Unexpected is my specialty.”

  “Do you make a habit of tearing peoples’ clothes off?”

  “Only those I want to fuck.”

  He stifled the urge to laugh at the disbelief on her face. “Really?”

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “No, Scarlett. I’ve never torn a woman’s dress off her before. But I can’t promise I’ll never do it to you again.”

  “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered to be so careful with your shirt.”

  The thought of her ripping his clothes off him was dangerously addictive. “You’ll know next time.”

  There isn’t going to be a next time.

  Before she could remind him of that fact, he grasped her wrists and pried her arms away from her breasts.

  He sucked in a breath. Her tits were gorgeous. Full and ripe, with nipples that just begged to be licked. He took a step toward her, intending to do just that, and ground out a curse.

  His pants were tangled round his ankles. He toed off his shoes and tore off his socks and pants in record time, aware of how Scarlett watched. It wasn’t the best performance of his life but better than tripping over his own feet. Before his brain left the building completely, he tossed a condom onto the nearby loveseat.

  Scarlett let out an appreciative sigh and then dropped to a crouch. For one insane second he thought she was going to give him head, but instead she started to take off her own shoes.

  “Leave them on.” He grasped her arms and hauled her upright. He never thought he had a shoe fetish before, but damn. Tonight he could understand the attraction.

  “Good thinking. If I took them off I’d only reach your shoulder.”

  “That’s not why I want you to keep them on.”

  “I know.” Her sultry whisper coiled through his bloo
d. “Do you want me to walk all over you?”

  “Fuck no.” Was she for real? “You could seriously injure me.”

  Her giggle was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard, and the way she slapped her hand over her mouth, in a vain effort to contain her mirth, made him harder.

  “Does the thought of inflicting pain turn you on?” He glided his hands over her arms and shoulders, and then down her back to the dip of her waist. Her skin was satiny soft.

  “No.” A delicate shiver rippled over her wherever he touched. She speared her fingers through his hair and pressed her body against him. Her erect nipples damn near caused him to lose what little control he still had.

  “You still want to find out what my mouth can do?”

  “Oh, yes.” It was a breathy surrender, and she tilted her head back so she could look him in the face.

  He wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her still. His other hand palmed her ass. She’d felt good through her dress. Without it, he wasn’t sure how long he could last.

  With a throaty groan he sucked her nipple into his mouth. Her nails dug into him and she arched her back, burying his face in her scented flesh.

  She is so fucking gorgeous. Slowly he sank to his knees and trailed hot kisses across her stomach.

  “Your mouth is good.” Her voice shook. He looked up at her and grinned at the glazed expression on her face.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “I don’t go back on my word.”

  She hitched in a ragged breath and her pink lips parted. Christ, that was hot. For a second he imagined her going down on him, taking him into that sexy mouth of hers.

  God yes…

  But he wanted to feel her come in his mouth. Wanted her to fall apart the way she had against the tree. Wanted her clinging onto him, all wet and needy as she gasped his name. His balls tightened with unbearable need.

  He dipped lower and slid her thong down her legs. A slender ribbon of pale blonde curls dusted her swollen heat and she wobbled on those insane heels of hers.

  “I think I might have to sit down.” Her breathy whisper was almost his undoing.

  “Not yet.” He stroked his thumb along her wet slit. She was so soft and silky. His heart thundered, making it hard to think straight.

  Just take her now. She was ready. But he wanted her to remember this night forever. And two quickies wouldn’t do it.

  He palmed her ass to keep her still and swirled his tongue over her clit. She bucked and made a strangled sound of pleasure, and he tightened his hold on her.

  “It’s official,” she panted. “You have a talented tongue.”

  He pulled back just enough so he could speak. “I’m going to make you scream my name.”

  She gave a hoarse laugh. “I don’t scream.”

  He slid a finger into her and her moan vibrated through her body. “You will.”

  “Jackson.” She drew out his name in a husky whisper. This woman is killing me. He slid a second finger inside her and tongued her clit. She tasted so good.

  He massaged her with his fingers, teasing her sweet spot. Her erratic breath, and the little sounds of pleasure she made, were all he could hear above the frantic thud of his heart.

  He clutched her ass in a brutal grip, and Scarlett reared against him. She was hot and slippery and her musky scent drove him crazy. I need to be inside her. As her orgasm hit he pressed his tongue against her peak and her shudders vibrated through his mouth.

  With a growl he stood, lifted her from the floor, and backed her onto the nearest loveseat. He hauled Scarlett onto his lap. She hung onto his shoulders, her mouth open and eyes glazed, and her hair tumbled over her damp face.

  Somehow he managed to sheath himself without taking his eyes from her. “Ride me, Scarlett.” It was a harsh demand. When she didn’t instantly comply, he palmed her ass and lifted her from his lap.

  She blinked and shifted, angling her wet slit over the head of his dick. Then she paused, and a smile of pure evil lit her flushed face.

  “I didn’t scream.”

  He laughed, and it fucking hurt. “You will by the time I’m finished with you.”

  Slowly she slid down his cock. “Promises.” There was a faintly mocking note in her voice, but it was overshadowed by lust. Her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted as she clenched her muscles around him.

  He nearly lost it right then. So tight. He couldn’t breathe.

  He held her hips, guiding her rhythm “You’re fucking gorgeous.” His voice was hoarse.

  “So are you.”

  Pressure built, blinding him to everything but the way Scarlett looked and felt in his arms. Not yet. He fought against it, wanting this moment to last. Scarlett gasped and leaned into him, her lips brushing his. It was a barely there kiss, and it was the best fucking kiss ever.

  “Jackson.” Her breath scorched his mouth and all he could see were her beautiful blue eyes. “Come for me.”

  Raw lust ripped through him. Can’t hold on. He pumped his release inside her and her orgasm shattered his mind.

  She clung onto him, her head buried against his shoulder. He tightened his arms around her, not ready to let her go yet.

  His thoughts drifted. This feels good. He closed his eyes and breathed in her faint scent. She was soft and warm. Her hair tickled his nose. Funny…

  Deep inside, unease stirred. What am I doing? Why wasn’t he trying to untangle himself from Scarlett? Why don’t I feel caged?

  Chapter Eight

  Jackson wasn’t sure what woke him, but as he stirred he became aware of the woman snuggled against his side. Not only that, he had his arm around her.

  It took him a couple of seconds to realize his first thought hadn’t been to hit the floor running.

  Just like last night.

  He shoved the thought aside. It didn’t matter. He liked having Scarlett in his arms. He had no great urge to leave before she woke up.

  And that was strange. It wasn’t as though they could do anything much this morning except to part ways. After falling into bed, they’d used the last of the condoms.

  His dick stirred against his thigh.

  It was crazy. They’d had sex three times. He shouldn’t still want her as much as he had this time yesterday. Except he did.

  Her lashes fluttered. Without meaning to, he brushed a curl from her face and then grinned down at her. Couldn’t seem to help himself. She looked so cute, all sleepy eyes and bruised lips.

  “Morning.” Against his better judgment his arm tightened around her. “Sleep well?”

  She licked her lips and gingerly stretched. Trouble was, that caused her body to rub against his. But before he could enjoy it too much, she froze, and then edged back until they were no longer plastered together.

  He should be relieved she hadn’t wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine—his worst nightmare when it came to waking up beside a woman. Mornings could be messy.

  But an odd sense of disappointment spiked through his chest. Which didn’t make any fucking sense at all.

  “Morning.” Her voice was smoky and did nothing to help the state of his arousal. “What’s the time?”

  He frowned at his watch. He couldn’t believe he’d slept in so late. “Just gone eight.”

  “God.” Scarlett tugged her fingers through her hair. He had the insane urge to fork his own fingers through her tangled curls, claim her lips once again, and sink inside her. He swallowed and resisted the temptation to grip his cock and find another method of instant relief.

  Seriously. He was twenty-six years old and in control of his body’s needs. With that in mind, he rescued his arm from around Scarlett, linked his hands above his head, and stretched his cramped muscles.

  It didn’t do a damn thing for his dick, though.

  Neither did the expression on Scarlett’s face as she watched him. Shit. This was getting awkward. Another reason why he avoided the morning after the night befo
re whenever he could.

  “Well, that was fun.” She sat up and pulled a sheet around her in a vain attempt at modesty. He didn’t know why she bothered. He’d seen plenty of her body the night before.

  “Sure was.” He itched to trail his fingers along the length of her naked back. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her back last night. He closed his eyes for a moment but it didn’t help. Her back was as sexy as her front.

  “Did you want to use the shower first?” She looked over her shoulder at him. He almost told her they could use the shower together, but there was no point. If he got her under the spray, all wet and slippery, he’d want to fuck her.

  “No it’s okay. You go ahead. I’ll clean up at home.”

  …

  This is so excruciatingly embarrassing. Scarlett kept the fake smile on her face as Jackson stretched like a satisfied panther beside her. The sheet and quilt barely covered his groin and his naked torso was the stuff of wet dreams. All she wanted to do was crawl over him and lick every delicious inch of his toned body, but he’d made it crystal clear yesterday that he was only interested in one night.

  The last thing she wanted was for his lingering memories of her to be of someone who didn’t know when to just back the hell off.

  Except she didn’t have the first idea how to handle this situation. Should she suggest they have breakfast together? Grab a coffee? Or would that look as though she expected more from this encounter than they had both agreed on?

  One thing was certain. He expected an answer from her. She cleared her throat and hoped her hair wasn’t really as messy as it felt.

  “Okay.” Wow, how articulate could she get? Luckily it appeared to be enough for Jackson as he shot another bone melting smile her way before flinging back the covers and turning his back on her.

  She gave a silent sigh of appreciation. His back was all bronzed and muscled and—

  Her heart slammed against her ribs.

  Crap, what’s that? What looked like an old knife wound disfigured his lower back.

  Her fingers clenched in the sheet, and she smothered the urge to touch him there. She could only imagine the kind of life he’d led if it included being attacked by both a broken bottle and a knife.

  They might have had sex—and pretty mind blowing sex, at that—but the truth was, she knew almost nothing about him.