Always On My Mind

by Jill Shalvis

  This was different. This was…intense, demanding everything from her, and her heart started to pound against her ribs.

  Lifting his head, he stared into her eyes, trailing his fingers down her jaw, his mouth following, along her throat, where he stopped at the pulse point.

  His thumb lightly glided over the spot. “You’re either having a heart attack or I’m really doing it for you,” he murmured.

  “Both. Jack—”

  “Shh,” he said, his gaze hot enough to scorch. “It’s my turn now.” And then he lightly nipped her throat before soothing the sting with a kiss. Her collarbone was next, and then her breast. He took her nipple into his mouth and laved, nipped, and teased until she was writhing beneath him. Then he switched sides, taking his sweet-ass time about it too, until she whispered his name. And then said it again in a rather commanding tone that matched the frantic rock of her hips.

  This only encouraged further torture on his part. He slid to his knees on the floor as he finally, God finally, kissed his way down her stomach.

  Her skirt was still shoved up to her waist, and he seemed to really like the look as he stroked a hand over one thigh, urging her to open for him, to hook her leg on his shoulder. His other hand rested low on her belly, so low his thumb could lightly scrape over her. And then not so lightly. “I have condoms,” she managed. “An entire box of them. In my purse.”

  He looked up at her, his eyes dark and intense with concentration, though now there was also a light of humor. “That’s a big box.”

  She felt herself flush. “Well, I thought maybe we weren’t done yet.”

  Turning his head, he rubbed up against her inner thigh with a day’s worth of scruff on his jaw.

  She nearly came. “Jack—”

  “I bought some too. Also a big box. Because I was sure we weren’t done yet.” He glided his thumb over her again and followed it up with his tongue, eyes still on hers.

  A man had never looked at her like that, not in her entire life. And okay, so she wasn’t all that experienced, but she was feeling things, so many, many things, and she could tell that he was feeling them too. She breathed more than said his name, and he let his eyes drift closed as he went back to what he was doing—driving her out of her ever-loving mind. He was quite thorough about it too, and she lost it completely, coming with a shuddering cry that rocked her to her very core.

  Jack staggered to his feet. “Bed,” he said firmly.

  “I can’t feel my legs.”

  “I’ve got you.” Bending over her, he stilled when she slapped a hand to his chest.

  “You’re not going to carry me like I’m some silly girly-girl in the movies all romantic-like,” she said. “It always brings me out of the scene because I worry about his back, and— Hey!”

  He’d scooped her up and over his shoulder into a fireman’s hold.

  “Jack.” She laughed and squirmed to get free, but then realized that she had a most excellent view of his most excellent backside as he strode down the hall as if she were light as a feather. “Put me down.”

  “I’m dragging you off to my cave.”

  Well then. Willing to play, she tried to bite his ass. Since she couldn’t quite reach, she settled for low on his back, but the bastard didn’t have an ounce of fat on him so she couldn’t really get a good hold.

  He swatted her butt. “Behave.”

  She tried to bite him again, but then she was flying through the air and landing on his bed. Before she could bounce twice, he’d pulled a condom from his bedside drawer and was on top of her.

  And then in her.

  He stilled and pressed his face to her neck. “I’m a dead man,” he murmured, and then, holding her right where he wanted, he began to thrust, pulling out with each stroke, rolling his hips, and then grinding back in. She could feel him hot and hard, deep inside every time he moved. He gripped her thighs and pushed them forward slightly so he slid in more, pressing a spot deep inside of her. She’d never experienced anything like it. When he groaned her name, she knew neither of them were going to last. Everything about him was causing sensations in her body that she didn’t even know what to do with. Squeezing her legs around his waist, she clutched him, crying out.

  They came together. Or at least she thought they did. She couldn’t be sure because she lost track of all her senses.

  When she came back to herself, they were damply entangled and she was breathing like a lunatic. Holy cow… She tried to roll free and found she couldn’t move. She was pinned by one-hundred-and-eighty solid pounds of muscle, and he was breathing just as hard as she, the small of his back slick with sweat. And her only coherent thought was, if they kept at this whole naked friends thing, they were going to kill each other…

  Eventually Jack got up to get them some water and sustenance, and Leah managed to roll over and shove her hair from her face. His bedside drawer was open, the box of condoms torn into and spilling out over a colorful stack of envelopes—

  Leah went still, then reached out and brushed the condoms away, even though she didn’t need to. She knew what that stack of cards was.

  Her own cards, sent to Jack when she’d first left Lucky Harbor. Christmases, birthdays, Valentine’s Days…she’d used them all as excuses to keep in touch, her own way of hoping he would keep her in mind.

  He still had them. Every one of them, by the looks of things. Her throat tightened as she wondered what it meant. But she knew. It meant that she’d been important to him.

  And she’d hurt him.

  She could have had something here with him, something real. Instead, she was now stuck in this…fake relationship that was quickly turning not so fake at all.

  And it was all her own doing.

  The next morning, Jack knew the minute Leah woke up because, like Kevin always did, her entire body tensed without moving a muscle.

  He wondered if she expected him to do what he did with Kevin: point to the floor and say, “Get down.” The truth was, he was far more likely to roll over and expose his vulnerable underbelly.

  Instead, he let her have the moment of pretense as he watched her in the early morning light. God, it felt good to wake up with her, which begged the question—how long was she sticking around? She seemed to be settling into Lucky Harbor, though this didn’t make any sense at all if she’d won Sweet Wars. And surely she had won. This meant she had the prize money to start her own pastry shop and was financially stable, probably for the first time in her entire adult life.

  Maybe she’d continue to revamp her grandma’s bakery. Surely she wouldn’t have started this thing between them if she’d been in a hurry to go anywhere. He tried to figure out what that might mean but couldn’t. “Morning,” he said quietly.

  She didn’t move.

  This didn’t surprise him. If he knew her, and he sure as hell did, he knew she was panicked right about now and reviewing her options.

  And most likely the closest exit.

  He could feel her heart kick into high gear, and he had some sympathy. She wasn’t alone in this. This whole new lover intimacy they had going between them now was going to affect their friend intimacy, no matter what they said or did.

  “I know you’re awake,” he said.

  She cracked open one eye. “How? How do you always know?”

  “You stopped breathing.”

  She sighed. “What time is it?”

  They’d called in for pizza late last night, ravished it in the same manner in which they’d ravished each other, and then fallen asleep, the heavy sleep of the dead—or two people who’d fucked their brains out. “Eight,” he said.

  “Eight…” With a gasp, she sat straight up. “Eight? Omigod, we fell asleep? The bakery—”

  “I thought today was your day off.”

  “No! I told Grandma she could have the day for herself. I’ve gotta go.” Rolling to her feet, she staggered until she got her sea legs, and then she whirled to look for her clothes.

  Jack tucked his ha
nds beneath his head and enjoyed the view of her, all naked and rosy and… “Damn,” he said, sitting up. “Sorry about that whisker burn.”

  She glared at him and then strode—still bare-ass naked—to the mirror over his dresser. She took in the sight of her reddened neck and growled. “Is it too hot for a turtleneck?”

  He bit his lower lip to hold in his grimace.

  She looked at him, narrowed her eyes, and then looked down at her body.

  The whisker burn extended to her breasts, belly, and inner thighs. “You suck,” she said.

  “Actually, you’re the one who—”

  “Stop!” She clapped her hands over her ears but did let out a low laugh that pretty much made his heart swell too big for his ribs. “Where the hell is my bra?”

  He got out of bed, tripped over Kevin, and headed down the hall to the living room. The dog happily trotted along after him, thrilled to have his people awake, even more thrilled because he could tell time and knew it was way past time to eat. To remind Jack, he put his icy nose on Jack’s ass, goosing him.

  Jack picked up Leah’s clothes from the living room floor and handed them over. She began to jerk them on, doing that whole not-quite-making-eye-contact thing that he recognized. It was what she did right before she did something stupid, and some of his glow faded. “That was quick,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The regret.”

  “Don’t start.” She whirled for her shoes and purse. “This is all your fault.”

  “Mine?” He laughed. “You gave me a birthday blow job, which started the whole thing. How was that my fault?”

  “Because you came home looking edgy and rumpled and…hot. And then I took your clothes off and…and you looked even hotter.”

  He grinned. “You think I’m sexy.”

  “The entire female race thinks you’re sexy.” She sighed. “Okay, Mr. Rules, Mr. Gotta Be In Charge…we’re going to have to renegotiate some things.”

  “Such as?”

  “That,” she said, and pointed to the bed. “What the hell are we going to do about that?”

  “If you’re referring to the amazing orgasms, then I vote for more as soon as possible.”

  “At least that part isn’t pretend,” she said.

  He frowned at her. “What does that mean?”

  “Look, forget it. But we need to remember your first rule: this isn’t real and there are no hurt feelings.” She whirled away and began digging through her purse for her keys. “When people are bitching that I don’t have any fresh bread or donuts available today at the bakery, I’m going to blame you.”

  “Sure,” he said, a little distracted by her reiterating his own rule. Which was ridiculous of him. “My reputation could use the boost.”

  She rolled her eyes, headed to the door, then stopped, sighed, and came back to him. “You’re still naked.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Just in case you want to give me any more birthday presents.”

  “Look, Jack,” she said and then paused.

  Uh-oh. “You going to dump me on my birthday?” he asked softly.

  “It’s the day after your birthday.” She closed her eyes. “And I don’t know what I’m doing here, Jack. I feel antsy. I feel like…”

  “You have to run?”

  Her silence was answer enough, and he felt the age-old temper for her father rear its ugly head. “You’re letting your past rule you again. It’s your life, Leah. Own it. Do with it what you want.”

  “It’s not that.”

  They both knew it was a lie. She sighed and put a hand to his chest and then dropped her head to it. “I’m having trouble with this pretend thing.”

  His heart kicked hard. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, dammit, you’re messing with my head.” She lifted hers. “We have to go back to pretend, Jack. All pretend. It’s a rule! And it’s for my own mental health!”

  He thought of what they’d done to each other in the name of sheer lust over the past twenty-four hours, how she was saying what he already knew. They were skating on thin ice. Thin, cracked ice. “What about for my mental health?” This came out completely unbidden, and if he had a do-over card, he’d have taken it back. He didn’t want to discuss his mental health, or lack thereof. Hell no.

  “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Forget it.” He turned away, stopping to look down when he felt her hand on his arm.

  “Jack,” she said softly.

  “Throwing in the towel now makes sense,” he heard himself say. “My mom’s getting better. The treatment’s working.”

  “Oh, Jack, that’s wonderful. I’d hoped…”

  He nodded. “She’s still got some treatments left, but the bottom line is that it’s working.” He paused, his throat feeling like he’d swallowed broken glass. “So I suppose it’s best to break her heart sooner than later and tell her the truth.” Feeling hollow, he took a step back. “You’re late,” he reminded her.

  “But…are we…okay?”

  “Aren’t we always?”

  She looked at him for a moment, then nodded and headed toward the door, and he let her go.

  Had to.

  She was in denial, and he wasn’t going to call her on it because…well, hello, Pot, meet Kettle.

  Still, he hauled her back against him, using the stolen moment to adjust the collar on her sweater so it covered as much of her throat as possible. For her.

  And then he kissed her one last time, long and wet and deep.

  For him.

  Chapter 20

  Leah raced home, changed, then continued on her rush to the bakery, definitely not thinking about all that had just happened in the past twenty-four hours: being in Jack’s bed—and then later on his couch, his table, his bathroom counter… Everything about it had been magical.

  And then the not-so-magical morning after.

  She had to park down the street, and she ran to the back door and the bakery, only to skid to a shocked stop.

  Her grandma was in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by the day’s baked goods.

  “But,” Leah said, staring around. Fresh bread. Muffins. Pies… “You made all this?”

  Elsie grinned and poured Leah a big mug of burn-the-hair-off-your-tongue, straight-black coffee.

  Leah took a few gulps and let the caffeine sink in. But she was still boggled. “Did the pastry fairy visit?”

  Elsie laughed, soft and musical. “Funny thing about not having to get up at four in the morning to start baking every day…you don’t mind doing it once in a while. In fact, I had the time of my life this morning.” She gestured to the recipes Leah had been working on, spread across the counter. “Your stuff is amazing, honey. Utterly amazing.”

  “It’s all in the hands of the baker,” she said.

  “No,” Elsie said. “It’s all in the heart of the person putting together the recipes.”

  Leah didn’t know what to say. The praise, coming from her grandma, meant so much and embarrassed her at the same time, and she checked her watch.

  Elsie laughed softly. “You can just say thank you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You never did learn how to take a compliment.”

  Leah thought of how Jack had looked at her when he’d told her she was beautiful. How she’d wanted to close her eyes from the look in his warm gaze, the one that told her he meant it, down to his soul. She had closed her eyes, even as she’d wanted to hear him say it again…

  But she’d blown that, hadn’t she?

  Lord. She needed therapy.

  “So…,” Elsie said. “Big day yesterday?”

  Leah winced. “Sorry I didn’t come home. I—”

  “Don’t you dare apologize. You have a life. I’m so happy for you, Leah.”

  “It’s not what you think, Grandma. Jack and I are…” She broke off, not sure how to continue.

  “Honey, anyone with eyes can see exactly what you and Jack are.” She smiled.
“Now I’m going up front to see to our customers.”

  Alone, Leah worked in the kitchen. She was nearly done when her phone rang. She jumped for it, hoping it was Jack. But of course it wasn’t, she’d made sure of that.

  “Hey, Sweet Cheeks.” Rafe. “Finally able to give you a call. Got your email a few weeks back. Thought you’d forgotten about me there for a little while.”

  “Not likely, since you’re on my TV every week.”

  He laughed softly, an easy, contagious laugh. If one could make a mold of pure infectious charm and charismatic wit, it was Rafe. He knew how to make you forget everything but him. He knew how to get the best out of anyone. He knew how to get what he wanted.

  And he had no soul.

  “I thought about your offer,” she said.

  “Which offer?”

  He knew damn well which offer, so she remained quiet.

  He laughed again. “Aw. You miss me. Who’d have thought?”

  “I want the job.”

  “But maybe it’s no longer available.”

  Leah ground her teeth but kept her voice light. “Okay. Then I’ll go to the Food Network. They were interested as well.”

  “Well, there’s no need to get your panties in a twist,” he said. “I was just messing with you. You used to have a sense of humor.”

  “And you used to at least be a good guy.”

  “I still am,” he said, a little more stiffly now. He had great illusions of being the perennial boy next door and didn’t like his faults pointed out to him. “The job offer stands.”

  “You’re going to let me have my own reality show, following a group of fledgling pastry chefs in their final semester of school?”

  “I’m going to let you have your own reality show, following you in your last semester of school.”

  She stared at her phone. “That wasn’t the deal.”

  “It’s been six months. The deal changed.”

  “Rafe—”

  “Look, Leah,” he said, not quite as jovial and friendly as before. “The ratings have been pouring in. You’re the little media darling now. The camera loves you, and the viewers love you. They all think you’re about to win this baby.”