The Bedroom Business

by Sandra Marton

  “Please,” she said, “Jake, please...”

  He could feel the room spinning around him. She was crooning to him, begging him, arching against him. She tugged his shirt out of his jeans, ran her hands up his back.

  Go slow, he told himself fiercely, dammit, go slow...

  “Jake?” she said, and touched him. Touched his erection as it strained against his jeans, and he was lost. Lost, to everything but needing her, wanting her, having her.

  “Take me,” she said. “Please, Jake. Come inside me, now.”

  Jake growled. He pulled her down to the carpet before the fire, thrust his hands under her skirt, felt the whisper of silk on her thighs, the slickness of silk between them.

  She was wet and hot. Wet and hot, for him.

  The world, and all his reason, disappeared.

  “Now,” he said, and he ripped away the wet silk, opened his fly, freed himself and thrust deep, thrust hard...

  And felt the barrier, the one he’d never, in his entire life, encountered. Stunned, he held still. Tried to think. To pull back. Emily wouldn’t let him. She dug her hands into his shoulders, dragged him down to her, lifted herself to him.

  “Em,” he said, “Em, wait...”

  Too late. She thrust her hips forward and impaled herself on his hard flesh.

  A moment of shimmering pain, and then Jake was inside her, deep inside her, and she knew, she knew why she’d let this happen, why she’d wanted it to happen.

  “Jake,” Emily whispered, “oh, Jake, I...”

  Jake groaned, thrust one last time, and the world came apart in a shattering explosion of light.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JAKE buried his face in Emily’s throat, kissed her damp skin, then rolled onto his side and curved her tightly against him.

  “Em.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  All right? She was wonderful. Her body tingled; her skin felt flushed and hot. Was she supposed to tell him that?

  “Baby,” he said, drawing her closer and running his hand gently up and down her spine, “sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

  “For what? I wanted... I wanted you to make love to me, Jake.”

  “Yeah.” A teasing smile angled across his lips. “Oh, yeah, Em. I know that.” Jake threaded his fingers into her hair, brought her mouth to his for a long, tender kiss.

  What did he mean, he knew she’d wanted him to make love to her? Yes, of course he knew. She’d told him. But there was something in that little smile...

  “Really,” she said quickly, “it was-it was fine, just the way you did it.”

  “Fine, huh?” He laughed softly. “Is that the best you can do?”

  His tone was gentle. He was teasing her, she knew, just as she knew she should make some equally teasing response. She couldn’t. Her heart was still racing but her mind was blank. There had to be a protocol for this but for the life of her, she had no idea what it was. Did you say thank you to the man who’d just shown you ecstasy? Or did you just lie here and wonder where this magic had been, all your adult life?

  Nothing she’d read, nothing she’d imagined, had prepared her for the reality of what had just happened. The feeling of Jake, deep within her. His hot skin. His clever mouth. His slow hands. She didn’t want to ruin it now, by saying the wrong thing. As it was, she’d come close to doing just that. She’d almost said ... almost said...

  She’d almost said, Jake, I love you. And she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. She’d just been so overwhelmed by sen­sation...

  “Em, talk to me.” Jake eased her onto her back and leaned over her, his weight on his elbows as he looked into her face. “Did I hurt you? I know I went too fast. I’m sorry. I couldn’t...” He took a breath, laid his forehead against hers. “You should have told me,” he said softly.

  “Told you...”

  Heat flooded her face. That she was a virgin. That was what he meant. And he was right. She probably should have. Jake was accustomed to being with women who knew about sex. He’d signed on to teach her about passion, not to spend a night with a trembling novice.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and closed her eyes. “I guess I should have, but—”

  “I’d have slowed down, if I’d known.” He gave a little laugh. “At least, I’d have tried.” He took her face in his hands, brushed his lips over hers. “To be honest, I don’t know if I could have. I wanted you so badly, Em. And when you let me know you felt the same way...”

  “I did?”

  “Uh-huh.” Jake kissed her again, and she felt his lips turn up in a smile against hers. “‘Take me,’ you said. ‘Come inside me,’ you said. What man could think straight, after that?”

  Take me? Come inside me? Had she.. .could she possibly have...Emily felt a stab of anguish. Yes. Yes, she had. That was what he’d meant when he gave her that smug little smile. She’d said all that. She’d begged him.

  And now, she wanted to die of embarrassment.

  She’d done everything wrong. She’d pleaded for him to take her, made him come too quickly, been a virgin when a virgin was the last thing a man like Jake would expect. And she’d come within an inch of saying she loved him when, of course, she didn’t.

  Perfect, she thought. An absolutely perfect debut, Emily. Too bad there was nothing left for an encore.

  “Jake.”

  “Mmm?”

  He was kissing her throat, lightly nipping her skin. And she, dammit, she was getting aroused again. She could feel it happening: the liquid rush deep inside, the tingle in her breasts...

  “Jake, let me up, please.”

  “In a minute.”

  He moved lazily, settled himself lower on her body, kissed the rise of her breast. “You have too much clothing on,” he said huskily. “Does this dress have a zipper?”

  Her dress. Oh, it was worse and worse. She still had her dress on, even her boots. Jake was fully clothed, too. She hadn’t even given him the chance to­—

  “Jake. I want to get up!”

  There was a note of panic in her voice. She heard it; she knew Jake did, too, from the way he reacted.

  “I did hurt you.” He drew back. “Em, baby, I’m sorry. I—“

  “Dammit, will you stop saying that?” Her face flamed. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. I just—I want you to get off me.” He did, and she shot to her feet. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Down the hall, but I can make things better, if you’d just—”

  She didn’t let him finish. Instead, she tugged the bodice of her dress up and the hem of it down. She could feel Jake’s eyes boring into her as she made her way down the hall. Maybe it was just as well she was still dressed. Walking away naked, with him watching, would have been the final humiliation.

  Why had she come here? Why had she done this? She’d never be able to look at Jake again, without thinking­

  Emily slammed the bathroom door behind her and locked it.

  “Oh my God,” she said, in a choked whisper.

  After a few seconds, she turned on the light, took a steady­ing breath and faced herself in the mirror. It was worse than she’d expected. Her hair was a tangle of wild curls, her lip gloss was gone, her mascara was smudged. She looked like a woman who’d been doing exactly what she’d been do­ing ... except she hadn’t been doing it very well.

  A sound burst from her throat. Turning on the water muf­fled it; she cupped her hands under the stream. It was icy­cold; she gasped as she splashed it on her face.

  Now what?

  If only this were New York, she thought, as she dried her hands and face. Thank you for everything, Jake, she’d say. No, no, don’t get up. I’ll see myself out. Two minutes later, she’d be in the street, hailing a taxi or finding the nearest bus stop or subway station. Forget the snowstorm. Snowstorms didn’t stop anybody, in the city.

  But she wasn’t in the city. No buses, no taxis, no subways. She might as well have been on the moon.

  “Em?”

&nbs
p; Emily spun around and stared at the door.

  The knob rattled. “Baby, are you okay?”

  Baby. What kind of name was that for a man to call a woman?

  “Yes,” she said brightly, “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine. Are you crying?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Emily swiped at her streaming eyes with the back of her hand. She was crying. And wasn’t that dumb? Okay, so she’d made a fool of herself but still, why would she cry? “Why would I cry, Jake?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. Open the door, Emily.”

  “No.”

  “Emily.” Jake’s voice hardened. “Open this door!”

  “I don’t have to. This is a bathroom. People are entitled to privacy, in a bathroom.”

  Jake leaned his forehead against the door. Dammit, now what? Of course she was crying. He’d dealt with enough teary females to know what a woman sounded like when she was crying. It usually sent him running in the opposite di­rection but where could he run to? This was his house, the wind and the snow were howling outside ... and besides, it was doing funny things to him, hearing his sparrow weep.

  Why would she cry? Okay, things hadn’t been perfect. He hadn’t made love to her the way he’d intended, so that it would last, so that he could seek out all her most sensitive places, hold her in his arms and watch her lovely face as she found the fulfillment he, and only he, could bring her...

  He, and only he?

  Jake frowned. What in hell was that supposed to mean? He was teaching Emily about passion. That was what he’d promised, what she’d accepted.

  Easy. He needed a minute to get things in perspective. What had happened had thrown him. He’d expected Emily to be inexperienced, but a virgin?

  No way.

  That had come as a shock. No wonder he’d—he’d­—

  Who was he kidding? He’d lost control. That had never happened to him before, not since he was a kid. He loved sex: the musky scents; the hot, whispered sounds; the swift rocket-ride to the stars, but a little piece of him always stayed outside, kind of like an observer. What had happened to that observer this time? How come, at the end, nothing had mat­tered but being deep inside Emily?

  The answer was simple. All that prim propriety, hiding all that heat. What man wouldn’t lose control? What man wouldn’t find the experience exceptional?

  In fact, he wanted her again. Right now. The truth was, he hadn’t stopped wanting her, even after they’d both come. Did she know how rare that was, that a man and a woman found release at the same instant? No. She wouldn’t know. She was so innocent. So...

  Jake rubbed his hands over his face. His body was hard­ening, his pulse starting to do the samba, because he wanted to make love to Emily again. And what did Emily want?

  She wanted to lock herself inside the powder room and cry.

  Had he failed her that badly?

  “Emily,” he said, trying to sound stern, “I want you out of there this second.”

  Silence greeted his demand. He frowned, eyed the door narrowly.

  “Em? Come out. I’ll bust the door down, if I have to.”

  Emily gave a ladylike snort. “Oh, that’s the ticket, Jake. You don’t get what you want, just start barking!”

  “Dammit, Emily...” A nerve ticked in Jake’s temple. He laid his palms flat against the door, touched his forehead to the wood. “Let’s not turn this into a battle. Just open the lock, okay?”

  “No.”

  “You have to, sooner or later.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Of course you do. You’ll get hungry, or tired or thirsty...”

  “I’m not hungry. There’s plenty of water and I can always curl up on the floor.”

  Jake looked at the door, considered beating his head against it, and decided Emily would simply stand by and let him do it.

  “Em?”

  “Yes?”

  He hesitated. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

  “Positive.” She spoke softly, so softly that he could hardly hear her. “You didn’t hurt me at all.”

  Jake cleared his throat. “Yeah, but I disappointed you.”

  “You didn’t disappoint me, either.”

  “Sure, I did. I was—I was way too fast. I didn’t mean it to be like that but when you said—”

  “Don’t repeat it!” Emily closed her eyes in misery. “I know what I said. If I could take it back—”

  “Take back that you wanted me inside you?”

  “Please,” she whispered, “don’t talk about it. I’m so em­barrassed...”

  “Embarrassed? That you let me know you wanted me? Em, don’t you know what that did to me? Hearing you say those things?”

  Emily slid down to the floor and leaned her head against the door. “You don’t have to be polite, Jake.”

  Jake gave a choked laugh as he slid to the floor on the opposite side of the door. “Hell, Sparrow, good manners have nothing to do with this. I’m just sorry I made it all so quick. I wanted it to be perfect.”

  “It was perfect. It’s just that I... What did you call me?”

  “Sparrow. My sweet, hot little sparrow.”

  Emily cringed. “‘Hot’ isn’t a word a lady appreciates, Jake.”

  “A woman’s not supposed to be a lady when a man makes love to her, Em.”

  “No?”

  “No. Is that what this is all about? That you weren’t a lady?”

  Another long silence. “Maybe.”

  “Baby, listen to me. A lady’s the last thing a man wants in his bed.”

  He waited. She didn’t reply.

  “Emily? Sweetheart, please open the door. I promise, next time will be better.”

  “There won’t be a next time.” She paused. “And—and even if there were, how could it be better?” She thought back to that hot explosion of light. “How could it?” she said again, but very softly.

  Jake rose slowly to his feet. “Open the door,” he said huskily, “and I’ll show you.”

  He waited. After a few seconds, he heard a sound, a soft rustle of clothing. The door opened a crack. Emily peered out.

  “I think it would be best if I went home now.”

  Jake’s smile tilted. “How’re you going to manage that, Sparrow? Do you have a toboggan parked outside?”

  She opened the door wider and stepped into the hall. Jake’s heart did that funny upside down thing in his chest again. Her new hairdo was a mess, her lip gloss was all kissed off and the artfully applied mascara had dried into raccoon-like smudges under her teary eyes.

  She was beautiful.

  “Just look at you,” he said gruffly. He took a step for­ ward, gently dried her tears with his thumbs. “You’ve ruined all that goo that woman spent hours putting on your face.”

  “It wasn’t goo,” she said, sniffling a little but managing to sound defiant anyway, “and she spent two minutes.”

  Jake took her hand. “Come sit by the fire with me.”

  “I’d really like to go home.”

  “Yeah, well, you can’t.”

  He led her into the living room. What he really wanted was to pull her into his arms, kiss her until she trembled and begged him to make love to her again, but he wouldn’t do it. This was the time for seduction. Yeah, he’d seduce her. Slowly. Tenderly. Until she was on fire for him, the way he was on fire for her.

  He sat down on the sofa, tried to pull her into his lap, but she wouldn’t let him.

  “I’d rather sit in the chair.”

  “How am I going to kiss you if I’m sitting here and you’re sitting in the chair?”

  “Jake. You said you’d teach me...things. And you have. You already—”

  He tugged harder. She tumbled into his lap and he silenced her with a kiss. His mouth was warm; the tip of his tongue teased her lips. She swayed towards him, moaned, then pulled back.

  “No,” she said, a little breathlessly, “once was enough. Honestly, Jake—”
>
  “Honestly, Sparrow,” he whispered, as his hands spanned her waist, “once is never enough.”

  “It is. It was. And then there’s our supper. The sauce, and the pasta...”

  “To hell with supper,” Jake said in a husky whisper that made her breath quicken. “Kiss me, Em.”

  When she didn’t, he kissed her, instead, and slipped his tongue into her mouth. The heat of it, the taste of him, made her dizzy.

  “Jake.” She leaned her forehead against his. “Jake, stop. You make me feel—you make me feel—”

  “What? Tell me. I want to know.” His hands cupped her face, tilted it to his. “I want to know what you like. What things you want me to do.”

  Everything, she thought, oh, Jake, everything.

  “This?” he said, and kissed her again. “And this?” he whispered, and cupped her breasts in his hands. “This, too,” he murmured, and ran his thumbs over her nipples. “Ah, Sparrow, Sparrow, I want you so badly...”

  Emily moaned, put her arms around Jake’s neck and kissed him. She wanted him, too. Wanted his mouth, his hands, his body. Wanted his soul, and his heart...

  Suddenly, she tore her mouth from his. “No,” she gasped, and scrambled to her feet, but Jake went after her, put his arms around her, drew her back against his chest.

  “Yes,” he whispered, and buried his face in the soft, sweet place where her neck and shoulder joined.

  She fell back against him, lifted her arm and lay her hand against his cheek. Her fingers skimmed across his lips. He caught them, sucked them into the heat of his mouth as he undid the zipper that ran down the back of her dress. He wrapped a handful of her hair around his fist, dragged it aside and kissed the nape of her neck.

  Her skin was like silk. He wanted to tear the dress away, feast on her with all his senses. Instead, he eased the dress to her waist and covered her breasts with his hands, teased the crests with his thumbs, felt her tremble, shudder, felt his body turning into steel.

  “Do you like that?” he whispered.

  Emily’s breath caught. “Yes. Oh, yes. I—I—”

  He turned her in his arms, took her mouth with his, nipped at her bottom lip until her mouth opened and he could slip his tongue inside. She trembled, pressed herself against him, and he shuddered with almost savage exaltation.