by Pat Warren
Gazing up at him, Rachel knew she could lie to herself and say she should really make him some coffee since they hadn’t had any at the Remmingtons’. But, although she could use that as an excuse, the truth was she wanted Jack to come in with her, and it wasn’t for coffee.
Maybe it was the story Gina had told her about the way she’d met Trent, how speedily she’d fallen in love with him, and how she’d acted on that fact because she simply couldn’t help herself. Almost from the start, Rachel had felt the same about Jack, but she’d pushed aside those feelings, telling herself she couldn’t fall in love that quickly.
That was so much rubbish.
There was an old song that said something like “it only takes a moment,” and although she wouldn’t have believed it before, she knew it was so now.
Still, she had no illusions that her love was returned or that by making love with him, he’d change his mind and stay with her. She’d learned her lesson on that score and learned it well. He’d go when it was over whether she let herself love him or not. And she might be missing the best experience of her life.
She met his eyes honestly. “I’m not going to ask you in for coffee. But I do want you to come in.” And she waited.
There was a flicker of acknowledgment of what her invitation implied, a fleeting smile, a change in his eyes. “Good, because I very much want to come in.”
“I think Dad has some brandy. You could build a fire.” After all, she didn’t want to rush things. She wanted to set the mood.
“That would be nice.”
Outside, he took her arm and maneuvered them carefully along the walk, slippery with the more than an inch of accumulation, and it was still snowing. On the porch, Jack took her keys and unlocked the door. He let her precede him, then closed the door behind them and helped Rachel remove her jacket. That was when Rachel spotted a note left on the hall table. While he hung up their jackets, she read it.
“Not bad news, I hope,” Jack said.
“No, good news, actually. Dad’s out of town and won’t be back until tomorrow evening.” Turning, she looked into his eyes, saw the green darken to emerald, and felt her heart lurch. “I’ll go get the brandy,” she said, pleased that her voice was steady.
She took her time, looking through the bottles in her father’s liquor cabinet, finally choosing a mellow brandy and two snifters, placing them on a teakwood tray. Again, in the kitchen, she paused to check her reflection as she had that first night Jack had entered her life. Was it possible that had been less than a week ago? It seemed as though much more time had passed, as if she’d known him for many months, as if she’d been preparing for this night for a long while.
Rachel fluffed out her hair, noticing that her eyes held a sort of glow of expectancy. She’d chosen the soft sweater that matched her eyes on purpose, believing her eyes to be her best feature, and wondered if Jack had noticed.
Maybe tonight, he’d notice more.
Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she carried the tray into the living room and set it on the table in front of the couch. Sitting, she watched as Jack piled logs into the grate, his movements as deliberate and controlled as the man himself. He was wearing a black V-necked sweater and black slacks. While she might not see his muscles, she could very well imagine their flexing with each of his movements.
Jack lit a stick of Georgia fatwood, then bent to trail it beneath the stacked chunks, patiently waiting until the logs caught. When he was satisfied, he turned, dusted off his hands, and joined her on the couch, noticing she’d removed her boots and stretched out her legs. She looked relaxed, yet when he met her eyes, he could see an edgy tension there, and thought he knew what was causing it.
She was every bit as nervous as he was.
Silently, Jack poured brandy into both snifters, handed Rachel one before lifting his to his nose and inhaling the potent aroma. Watching her over the rim as she did the same, his eyes smiled into hers, and he felt a connection that had his pulse pounding. He took a generous sip, his gaze still locked with hers, wondering what she was thinking.
She was thinking she didn’t need the additional stimulus of the brandy after consuming more than her usual quota of wine. Taking a sip, she felt the heat move down her throat, trail lower and lower, warming her insides. Her cheeks felt flushed. Was it from the brandy or the fire, now crackling and hissing? Or from the man who reached to put both their glasses on the table, then shifted closer to her?
“Turn around,” he told her. “You’re very tense. Let me see if I can work out the kinks.”
Because she thought it would be rude to refuse, Rachel did as he asked, giving him her back, rolling her shoulders. He was right; she was tense. And he’d caused most of it.
“That’s good brandy,” Jack commented as his hands settled on her slender shoulders, massaging lightly, keeping his touch impersonal.
His voice was as rich as the brandy, as warm as the flames across from them, as exciting as the touch of his hands. “It’s probably old, which I guess enhances the flavor. Some things improve with age.”
“You will. You’ll just get more beautiful.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I’ve been lied to too much.” Richard had told her she was beautiful every time he wanted something from her, and never noticed how she looked when he didn’t. “I know I’m just average, not stunning like Christina was, nor as lovely as Gina, and I’ve come to accept that.”
“Have you, now? And just who sold you those bill of goods?”
“A number of people.” Her mother had been the kindest, saying it would be in Rachel’s best interest if she developed her personality and talents, a subtle reminder that she was no beauty. Her father’s eyes had fairly glowed every time Christina had come into a room even as a child, but that hadn’t happened when Rachel approached him. Max had seemed not to notice either of them. Richard had emphasized how talented she was, her work good enough to exhibit, but he’d rarely given a personal compliment.
Jack’s fingers began to dig deeper, to manipulate the bunched muscles, to loosen them. “They were wrong. You mustn’t believe your critics. People have their own agendas when they undermine someone else. You have eyes and a mirror. If you can’t see beauty there, as I do—and countless others most likely—you need glasses.”
Rachel let her head drop forward, allowing his clever hands to work on her neck. “You’re just being polite. It isn’t necessary.” Hadn’t she all but invited him into her bed tonight? Why did he think flattery was necessary?
“Are you fishing, Rachel?”
“No,” she answered indignantly. “Could we talk about something else, please?” Or not talk at all since she was beginning to feel languid and lazy as her muscles relaxed.
“No, I want to finish this. In my family, Gina got the looks. She’s beautiful without question. I got the brawn and the brains.”
“Now who’s fishing? You know you’re attractive, but are you suggesting Gina’s not smart?”
“Not at all. I know she’s not only intelligent but street-smart. However, I taught her how to survive a fairly bleak childhood by playing mental games. I watched over her when my mother couldn’t.”
Small wonder they were so close, Rachel thought.
“In your family, from what you’ve told me, your father apparently got the moxie, Max got the Midas touch, Christina got good looks then squandered them. But you, you got it all and you don’t even know it.”
What could she say to that? To protest would sound silly, to agree was unthinkable. Instead, she made a purring sound low in her throat. “If you ever want to stop playing cops and robbers, you can take up massaging. You have great hands.”
Obviously she wanted to change the subject, which was okay since he was having trouble concentrating. “I haven’t wanted to put my hands on a woman like this for a very long time.” His fingers trailed to her throat, caressing the silken skin there, feeling her pulse quicken. “You have the most incredible face, the
softest skin. I never see you that I don’t want to touch you.”
She wanted to believe him. Lord, how she wanted to believe him. Languid from the wine and brandy, and the massage, she was too relaxed to notice he was moving to the next plateau. “I thought after I fell at your feet that first evening that you found me pretty amusing.”
“In the beginning, maybe.” There was a subtle change in his voice, a thickening, as his fingers reached to lazily thread through her hair. “What would you say if I told you I’ve lain awake these past few nights thinking about you just like this, of being with you, imagining what you wore to bed, what your room was like?”
The same bedroom where she’d lain imagining him. From the first, there’d been that male-female awareness humming just beneath the surface that neither of them could rightfully deny. Rachel felt an electrical tension radiating between them, a seductive energy she was certain Jack felt, too. It was there in the way he looked at her with those hazel-green eyes that seemed to see far more than she intended, in the way his hand lingered overly long each time he touched her. He had a habit of standing a hairbreadth closer than good social manners dictated. She was certain he invaded her space intentionally, hoping for a reaction, and he was rarely disappointed.
Sensing a change in the way he was touching her, she tensed as his hands tangled in her hair, tugging her closer. “Jack,” she whispered, startled by the sharp stab of desire the contact aroused in her.
“You make me think of things I’d long ago pushed out of my mind—like a soft summer night and the way your hair smells and moonlight on satin sheets.” He dipped his head lower and touched his lips to her cheek, the tip of his tongue trailing down to kiss the corners of her mouth. “Mmm, I love the way you taste.”
“Jack,” she tried again, knowing the effort was halfhearted, hearing the catch in her voice. “Maybe we should slow down.” What was wrong with her? she wondered. She’d never been a tease. She wanted him, had invited him in. Yet suddenly her need for this man frightened her, her own desire overwhelmed her. If he could do so much to her with just his hands and a brushing of lips, what would happen if she gave herself to him completely? “I don’t—”
His mouth swallowed the rest of her words as he shifted her in his arms and pulled her up tight against his body.
Passion exploded, immediate, frantic, racing like a speeding bullet through Jack’s system. The kisses they’d shared up to now had been but a practice session for this mindless mating call that had him dizzy with need in mere seconds. Seeing her daily since meeting her, trying to ignore the attraction, had only heightened the craving. His arms wound around her, her heart beating against his, Jack let the sensations wash over him.
Emotions swirled then collided inside Rachel, leaving her trembling. His mouth was warm and wet and wonderful, chasing away all rational thought. His dark, masculine flavors burst on her tongue until she was seeped in him, in pleasure. She’d known passion before, but never had she suspected she could feel more, so much more. On a throaty moan, she angled her head and invited him to deepen the kiss, to show her even more, to show her everything.
Outside, the snow came down more heavily, the winter wind slamming gusts against the windows at their back. The fire in front of them spit and sputtered, the logs crackling as the flames devoured them. As if from a great distance, the sound of an owl could be heard, or was it a trick of the wind? Jack saw none of it, heard none of it, as his lips fastened to the pulse point pounding at Rachel’s throat. Pounding for him. His hands shifted, moving around front, impatient to touch bare skin. Inching beneath her sweater, his fingers found her breasts, and he heard the moan she couldn’t suppress.
Rachel’s heart beat like a captive bird beneath his hand as he caressed her quivering flesh, then dipped his head to taste. Her hands moved into his hair and pressed him closer as he suckled her, then shifted to swallow her cries. Their mouths locked in fiery demand, in frantic need. They rolled together on the out-size couch, breathless and panting.
Jack was stunned to his core, unable to function beyond holding her, caressing her. Needs whipped at him, making his mind hazy. He wanted her desperately, to love her all night long. But not here in this living room on the couch where Ellis could possibly arrive home from a change in plans and find them. Breathing hard, he eased back a fraction.
Through a brain still cloudy, Rachel struggled to catch her breath, to think clearly, to make sense of what was happening here. A hurricane, an avalanche, a tidal wave or something no less forceful. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d feel so much.
Did he feel the same? Did he want to go upstairs to her room to finish what they’d started? Or did he want to leave, to give them time to think this over? She needed to know. Taking in a deep breath, she moved back and looked into his eyes.
She saw her answer there in the emerald-green depths. He wanted her as no one else had ever wanted her before. Rising, without a word, she took his hand and led him up the stairs.
Peripherally, he saw that her bedroom was large, decorated in shades of yellow and white, with a big double bed and a door that led to a private bath. He stood still, watching as she cautiously locked the hall door, then walked over to light a chunky candle on her nightstand and another larger one on the dresser. The flickering candles lending their pale light, he could see, through the filmy curtains of twin windows, the snow continue to fall.
So she liked romantic trappings, subtlety and privacy. He would give her romance tonight and unlock the passion inside her that would prove to her how beautiful he thought her to be. He held out his arms, giving her one final choice.
Without hesitation, Rachel stepped into them, offering her mouth.
Jack kissed her slowly, gently, keeping himself in check, knowing he’d have to pace himself. Unhurried, they rained kisses on each other, lips trailing along faces and necks as candlelight flickered and snow blanketed the outside world.
Again, she stepped back and met his eyes. “I want a shower,” she said. “Will you take one with me?”
“I’m game if you are,” he answered, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to slow down a little here. Showering with someone was a first for Jack, but he was a willing pupil as he watched her tug off her sweater and toss it onto a chair. Because he wasn’t moving, she went to him and touched her mouth to the bare skin revealed in the vee of his sweater. He felt her lips caress there, then her tongue dance over his heated flesh. Stepping back, her eyes on his, she took hold of the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head, tossing it alongside hers.
“I’ve never undressed a man, but if you’re not going to help, you leave me no choice,” she said, her lips twitchy with nerves. Never had she been so bold, Rachel thought, wondering if it was the wine or the talk she’d had with Gina. Or perhaps it was her own unbridled desire.
Jack stood silent, watching her, a challenge in his eyes.
Accepting, she smiled and touched her hands to his belt. Her fingers were trembling yet surprisingly cool as they went to work and in minutes, he wore only navy briefs. She knew better than to keep going, so instead she tugged off her leggings before heading into the bath and turning on the shower.
Rachel sensed rather than saw him follow her as she adjusted the temperature of the water. When it was just right, she slipped off her underthings and stepped into the tub.
His heated blood churned as needs clawed at Jack. He removed his briefs and got in with her, telling himself to take it slow, to savor, to enjoy.
She fit into his arms, he found himself thinking as he molded her soft body to his, her frame small and delicate, her head coming just to his chin. But he’d watched Rachel all evening, smiling, talking with Gina, laughing, and his desire for her had only escalated as he’d realized how well she fit with his family, too. Not that he’d been searching for someone to fit in, but if he had, Rachel would be the one.
The steamy water sprayed down on them as Jack bent to kiss her. Her mouth so warm, so giving, a
nd her hands at his back so arousing as they caressed him.
After a moment, she broke away to reach behind her for a bath sponge. Squirting liquid soap into its center, she tossed her head in a vain effort to tame her wet hair before turning back to him. Her face serious now, she worked up a lather on the hair of his chest, then splayed her fingers there, massaging and stroking. She felt his arms go around her to steady them both, then saw him close his eyes as her hands spread fragrant soap bubbles across his shoulders and along his arms. Turning him, she went to work on his back.
After what felt like interminable minutes of exquisite torture, Jack had a burning need to take over. He placed both his hands over hers at his sides, capturing the sponge. Pulling her body close up against his back, he held her there, moving slightly, wet skin slip-sliding over wet skin, the gentle motion highly erotic. Turning to face her, he squeezed lather from the sponge onto his hands then trailed the soapy bubbles across her shoulders, and along her arms, stopping at her breasts.
Again his mouth returned to crush hers, to drink from her. She was losing ground fast, Rachel thought as her fingers moved up to clench in his thick, wet hair. Rachel sucked in a stunned breath as he lifted her easily, bringing her breasts to his waiting mouth. He pulled on her slowly, thoroughly, and she was lost, drowning in sensation as she wrapped her legs around his waist. There was no mistaking the depth of his arousal. Her breathing erratic, all she could do was hold on.
His big, gentle hands roamed her back as, with teeth and tongue, he tormented her—and himself—driven by a kind of frenzied passion, the longing to possess her completely shocking him as never before. He let her legs slide down his body, then backed her up against the slick wall as the water thundered down on them.
His hands raced over her, followed by his seeking mouth as her head fell backward and a deep moan came from between her parted lips. When his fingers found her and slipped inside, he felt her knees nearly buckle as she labored to stay upright.
Tossed about on a sea of sensation, Rachel experienced passion so intense it stunned her. She let him lead her, let him take her, then cried out his name before going limp in his arms. Several moments later, her breathing ragged, she met his dark green gaze.
