She pulled away with reluctance. “Technically, that’s exactly what it will do. Not that I’m complaining. Candles and flashlights are in the pantry.”
“You don’t want to see it?” Jonathan slipped his hand into hers. His bandage was rough against her palm, and the contact was pleasant. They felt their way toward the kitchen.
Her fingertips grazed the cool wood of the pantry door, and she slid it open. “It’s not a mixed-company movie.” She grasped the flashlight, and mouthed a thank you when it flipped on without hesitation. She trained the light on the candles, while Jonathan fetched a handful, and then they returned to the living room.
“You didn’t complain the first time we saw it.” He placed four candles around the room, lighting them as he went.
She flicked off the flashlight, and the flames cast long, dancing shadows along the walls. Despite the noise slamming into the house, the room got a cozy, almost surreal feeling. She sat on the couch again. “I didn’t know what I was walking into. I was humiliated that day, for your information.”
“And laughing your butt off. I remember.” He took the spot next to her, close enough his leg rested against hers. “Besides, I’m pretty sure—nope, I’m positive—you were the one telling me last night about how you spend your free time in Atlanta.”
Of course he’d bring that up. “That’s different.”
“How?”
Because you’re not there. “It just is.”
He nestled a finger under her chin and forced her head up. In the dim light, his eyes were so dark they looked black. She could sink into that gaze.
He licked his lips. “You didn’t have a problem with the company last night.” His words, smooth and confident, slid under her skin. “Riding my cock. Digging your nails into my arms. How could watching a stranger fuck a pie be more intimate?” His expression shifted to mischievous in an instant.
Her mind scrambled to keep up, but her insides weren’t having it. The shared moment in the shower filled her thoughts and sang in her nerves, teasing her with whispers of his skilled fingers roaming her body. She cleared her throat. “We can’t watch anything now, so it doesn’t matter.”
“There’s more to it. Isn’t there? You’ve got stories from band camp you kept to yourself.”
“I never went to band camp. My fourth grade teacher wouldn’t let me play the recorder, because I was out of tune. Those things can’t even be tuned, you know.”
He dragged his thumb along her jaw so lightly she wasn’t sure she felt it. “But you do have stories you’ve never told me.”
Some of them from the wicked thoughts she had after she watched American Pie. “Nope. I draw the line at sharing any level of detail about how I did or didn’t explore my body as a teenager.”
“I don’t want details.” He drew a finger up her arm, then along her neck, coaxing. “Simply names. Who were you thinking about when you did it?”
She raised her brows. “Celebrities. You.” The moment she said it, she wanted to take it back. Or did she?
“This is much better than a movie.”
She couldn’t argue. “I’m not going to be the only one spilling my secrets. You have to share too.”
“I didn’t agree to that.” He drew a light touch over patches of bare skin—the edge of her ear, the tips of her fingers, the back of her neck. Each new caress teased a little more.
“It’s only fair. And don’t tell me life’s not fair.”
“That night we kissed on the Fourth. The last time I saw you? I replayed that moment over and over again after I left.” His voice dropped an octave, and some of the playfulness faded from his face. “Not only the fight we had, though whenever I had a bad day, that was another mistake from my past that haunted me. I mean the kiss. No woman in college could ever compete with that memory.”
The confession stole her breath and fuzzed her thoughts. It wasn’t the words, but the way he said them. “Really?” That was intelligent.
“Cross my heart. Last night though, you were better.”
Embarrassment filled her, but she pushed it aside. This wasn’t a conversation she was backing down from. Like yesterday, boldness pushed her to be direct with Jonathan—a hint of regret she couldn’t quite grasp and would rather ignore in favor of this moment. “I’ve had a little more practice.”
“Me too”—he stood, pulled her to her feet, and grabbed a nearby candle—“and I think we should introduce my old bed to how much more experienced we are. Give the springs a work out that’s more than a solo act.”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind watching your solo act.” She followed him up the stairs.
They reached the room, and he turned to face her. “That only works if we’re still sharing.” He tugged her inside and stopped short of the bed, then set the candle on the dresser. Long shadows danced along the wall. “Since we’re doing this whole I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
“That’s not quite what was going on.” Heat flooded her skin, scorching her from head to toe. The thinly veiled suggestion tantalized and terrified her.
“It’s an evolving process. We’ll run out of spoken secrets sooner or later. If we make the next logical step before that happens, problem solved.”
Speaking of steps...her mind was already skipping ahead several, taunting her with images. She didn’t know which excited her more—the idea of showing off for him or him being turned on by it. An old insecurity lay on top of it all, adding a layer of bitterness to the fantasy. Any response stalled in her throat.
He trailed his gaze over her face. “Unless you’re usually a turn the lights off and do it naked type of gal.”
“Kind of. Yeah.”
“Does that mean you hate the idea?” He hovered his hand millimeters from her face, close enough for her to feel without him making contact.
She couldn’t vocalize her concerns. “No. But...”
He cupped her cheek. “You weren’t shy before.”
“I didn’t let myself think about it.” Even though she lost the weight years ago, the doubt still lingered. Now was a horrid time for Danny’s voice to echo in her head, which she suspected was why it did. This was an entirely different beast from picking up a stranger in a club. As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, Jonathan’s opinion meant the world to her.
“Then stop thinking now.” He moved his hands to the bottom of her T-shirt. “I’ll help.” He peeled the top off, then grasped her hands as he looked her over. “Gorgeous.”
The compliment and unwavering attention drilled inside, chasing away some of her hesitation, but not all. She hugged herself, unsure what to do next.
“Don’t be that way.” He loosened her arms again and stepped closer. Dropping his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “I want to see what you like. The way you caress yourself. The places you touch when you’re alone with your thoughts. You show me yours; I’ll show you mine.”
He put distance between them but never stopped watching her. She forced boldness through her veins, letting her screaming pulse carry it, and unclasped her bra. It dropped to the ground, and the chill clashed with her scorched skin. “What now?”
“Up to you. For the number of times I fantasized about you... the reality is much better.” His voice was heavy, a tone rapidly becoming her favorite.
She pushed the rest of her clothing to the ground. Her nipples were tight, and need throbbed between her legs. How was this such a turn-on? She’d worry about the why later. She preferred to focus on the now. She grabbed the chair from next to the desk and took a seat.
If she were alone... she’d hide under the covers and get things over with quickly.
That wasn’t quite true. She imagined more, and now was her chance to make it real. When she dragged her thumbs over her nipples, he groaned.
That made this easier. Dampness grew between her legs. She pinched harder, rolling and squeezing. The touch made her gasp. She was tempted to fall into her own mind, but the sound of a z
ipper kept her in the room.
Jonathan undid his jeans and worked his cock free, gaze never leaving her. Her heart hammered in her chest. This was way hotter than she expected. She glided one hand down her stomach, still massaging her breast with the other. It never felt this good when she was alone.
She slid her fingers easily between her folds.
“God.” Jonathan moaned. “Spread your legs. I want to see.”
She complied, stroking along her slit, keeping away from her core, not wanting the experience to end too quickly.
“You made the most delicious sounds last night.” Jonathan’s voice was strained. “I want to hear them again. Those gasps and cries when you come.”
She dipped two fingers inside her, thrusting and grinding against her hand. It wasn’t enough. She moved back to her clit, and bucked against her touch when she nudged the swollen nub.
His grunts added to her urgency. She rubbed, as climax built inside. Edging. Getting closer. She pressed in, until orgasm spilled inside, tearing from her throat and making her body shudder.
“Jesus, Ale.” His groan drew her attention again. He stroked his shaft, still watching her.
Inspiration struck, and she slid from the chair to kneel in front of him. “Want help?” She looked up at him through her lashes.
Not waiting for an answer, she trailed her tongue over the head of his cock, licking away a drop of precum. She took his length in her mouth. He was warm and hard, jerking against her, tangling his fingers in her hair to guide the pace.
His thrusting grew faster, and she licked along his skin. His groans shifted to frantic, seconds before a warm, salty squirt hit the back of her throat. She kept sucking until he wrenched from her touch, then she pulled away gently and met his gaze again.
He pulled her into his lap and kissed her deeply, not seeming to mind that his taste lingered on her lips. He broke away and pressed his forehead to hers. “So incredible,” he said breathlessly.
Thunder clapped, and for a moment the entire room filled with the flash of lightning. Seconds later, the scramble of claws on hardwood drew closer, and a white flash of fur shot across the floor and under the dresser. The candle on top wobbled, then toppled onto the quilt draped over the rack next to it.
The blanket caught fire and sent flame shooting toward the ceiling and smoke billowing through the room. “Shit.” Jonathan was on his feet in an instant.
Chapter Eleven
Jonathan yanked the blanket from the wooden rack and tossed it to the floor. Sparks hit his bare skin, and a flaming chunk of stuffing landed on his hand, burning partway through his gauze before he could shake it off.
“Here.” Bailey slid him the throw rug from next to the bed.
Within moments, he beat back the fire, until the quilt was nothing but a charred and melted shell in the middle of a scorch mark. Heavy smoke stung his eyes.
Bailey coughed until it sounded like she might evict a lung.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided them back downstairs.
They couldn’t open the windows in this weather or turn on any fans without power, but at least most of the dense air stayed upstairs, and Lucifer had beaten a hasty retreat to the kitchen table. He looked Bailey over. Ash smudged her nose, her bare arms, and her stomach. He was probably an even bigger mess. Something about the thought drew a laugh from him, and once he started chuckling, he couldn’t stop.
“Care to share with the group?” Bailey’s voice was hoarse.
He dragged in a few deep breaths and swallowed the amusement. “I think—given the number of disasters in the last forty-eight hours that led to one or both of us being wet, burned, or covered in sludge—we may be better off spending the rest of my visit naked.”
“I wouldn’t complain”—she trailed her gaze over him with an attention that threatened to make him hard again—“but it’s only fair if both of us are doing it.”
He pulled her close again, wishing he had shed his clothes too. Marveling at the sensation of her soft body pressed against his, he kissed her forehead.
“I don’t want to get splinters in my butt.” She draped her arms around his neck.
“We’re done in the attic, and all the other floors are polished. No worries there.”
“One worry.” She buried her face in his chest, muffling her voice. “You’re distracting, and we’re still on a schedule.”
The schedule. Right. The same one that meant he was heading back home in less than a week. For the first time since arriving here, he wasn’t in such a hurry to leave. The pressing desire to get back to the office was still there, but leaving Bailey behind...
Was exactly what he needed to do. It was a good reminder this entire thing was a means to close the door on his past. The house, the possessions, the fun with Bailey—he needed to enjoy it now, because it wasn’t his to keep. In a week he’d be back in L.A., she’d stay here, and life would return to what it should be. What it was always meant to be.
THE LIGHTS WERE STILL out the next morning. Bailey wasn’t surprised. With mainland transportation cut off, and the horrific conditions, no one was worried about a little substation that serviced such a small population.
Not that she was complaining; the company was good. She snuggled back into Jonathan and pulled his arm more tightly around her. She slept well despite the lingering smell of smoke, and having him there made the couch feel comfortable. She didn’t know if she was relieved or just a little disappointed they found their way into some clothes before falling asleep last night.
“Morning.” He moved his lips against her hair.
“Hey.”
“What’s on the schedule today, boss?”
She smiled, though he couldn’t see it. “I hadn’t thought past right now.”
He moved his hand to her hip and nudged up the edge of her T-shirt, enough to touch bare skin. “I’m not going to push the issue, then. I’m fine with this.”
“We have to get up eventually.”
“Do we?”
“Yes.” She laughed. This was perfect. Which sucked, because it would end soon.
It was better that way. With him gone, she could get him out of her system, have a clear head to remember why she didn’t do long-term relationships, and go back to building a business he didn’t approve of because it wouldn’t make a lot of money. “Do you like living in L.A.?” She frowned at her own question, unsure where it came from.
“I never thought about it. It’s familiar. It’s also smoggy, overcrowded, hot and muggy, and never rains.” As he talked, he traced her waist with his thumb. It was as comforting and familiar as it was seductive.
“If that’s on the travel brochure, they need a better tourism department. It sounds miserable.”
His quiet chuckle rumbled through her back. “Actually, I love it. A lot of people don’t, and others think it’s all big stars and homeless people, with nothing in between. I picked it though, and I don’t regret it. I enjoy the big-city feeling. My office is close to home, which means I usually walk to work, and there’s so much culture. So much to do and see. After all these years, it hasn’t gotten old.”
Like Atlanta, but bigger. “It sounds amazing.”
“You think so?” He sounded surprised.
She didn’t expect that reaction. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well... You know.” Vague and obscure, even by his terms.
She shifted her weight, to glance over her shoulder and look at him. “I don’t have any idea, but I’m curious.”
He pulled back, so she could lie down and see him. He moved his hand to her stomach. “I watch a lot of movies, as you know. And they’ve all told me—because really, we should trust what movies teach us—that the small-town girl always wants to stay in the small town. If she leaves, and especially if she gets a taste of the big city, when it’s all over she wants to be back where there are as many cows as people.”
“We don’t have cows here.”
“You know what I mean
.” He tickled her until she squealed and grabbed his hand, then returned to the light touch above her waist.
“If I thought for a second you believed everything you saw on TV, we wouldn’t be cuddling.” Cuddling. She liked the way the word rolled off her tongue. “I stay here because it’s financially convenient. I’ve thought about moving to Atlanta, but...”
“But what?”
She was going to say too much held her here. That wasn’t right, though. Her memories were tied to the people, not the place, and there were as many bad ones as good. Besides, all those people were gone. “I guess I can’t put it into words.”
“You don’t have to.” He dipped his head, to brush his lips over hers.
Each time he did that, she wondered at how natural it felt. Both the kisses and the tender touches. Anything intimate that he didn’t hesitate to do. Not a good place for her to dwell. “You really compared other women to me in college?” she asked.
“I did tell you that, didn’t I?” His smile turned sheepish. “That night we kissed was a defining point in my life. So much changed.”
Everything changed. She got engaged. He left and swore he’d never be back. “Yet you still walked away and let me go through with it.” She snapped her jaw shut. Stupid bitter thoughts were supposed to stay in her head.
He sat up, and the chill that rushed in around her was from more than the suddenly missing body heat. His face slid into its impassive mask. “After I begged and pleaded with you to tell Danny no, I didn’t want to see that happen. Especially with the way things ended up, but even before I knew.” The words should be passionate and moving, but his flat delivery destroyed their impact.
She could do the same. Keep her emotion under control and pretend she hadn’t reopened a gaping wound. “Begged and pleaded is a bit severe.” She extracted herself from the couch and took a spot in the chair across from him.
“No. It’s not.” The edge snapped into his voice and was gone as quickly. “I told you he wasn’t faithful.”
The Second Chance and The Auctioneer (The Love Equation, #3) Page 8
