by Metsy Hingle
He felt the tiny shudder go through her, heard that hitch in her breathing. It reminded him of that noise she made when he buried himself deep inside her. The mere thought had him growing rock hard again.
“Watch your hands, Gaston,” she scolded when his fingers dipped a little too low.
“I would much rather watch you.” He eased himself away from her so he could look into her face. “In fact, how much longer do you think we have to stay? I want to see those witch’s eyes of yours turn all dark and smoky again when I am inside you.”
Her eyes heated, and she buried her face against his shoulder. “We can’t go yet. The silent auction doesn’t shut down for at least another hour. And there’s still the money to be collected on the items, and the announcements to be done.”
“Why don’t I see if I can encourage these good people to be generous and hurry things along.”
Everyone had been generous, nearly doubling what Liza had hoped the gala would bring in for the children’s summer camp. But it seemed no one had been in a hurry to leave—except for her and Jacques.
The steamy glances and stolen kisses, the accidental brushes of his thigh or arm against hers, had done little to improve her patience. By the time the elevator door to the penthouse apartment pinged, Liza was near mad with anticipation. “Jacques, we’re here,” she managed after tearing her mouth away from his.
The moment the door closed to the apartment, she was back in his arms. And he was doing delicious things to her body, setting off tiny explosions of heat in her, on her, around her, with each touch of his clever hands, each nibble and stroke of his wicked mouth.
Liza fumbled with the buttons of his jacket. She dragged the sleeves down his arm and pushed it to the floor. She reached for his tie.
Jacques caught her impatient fingers and kissed them. “Slow down, chérie. We have all night.”
“I don’t want to waste it,” she told him, barely recognizing the voice of this carnal creature as her own. For pity’s sake, she told herself, she was the mother of a two-and-a-half-year-old boy and had remained celibate by choice for more than three years.
And tonight is all I’ll ever have. It will have to last me a lifetime.
“I assure you, we will not waste it,” he whispered into her ear. His breath feathered along her neck, then he moved to her shoulder. “But this time, I will not let you rush me. I want to make this special for you.”
“It will be,” she assured him as her legs grew weak. She would have agreed to anything as long as he didn’t stop touching her, kissing her.
Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her into the bedroom. A soft glow illuminated the room from the ginger jar lamp beside the bed, giving his eyes that burnished gold tint she found so fascinating.
When Jacques released his hold to slide her to her feet, Liza stood on unsteady legs. Dizzy with desire, she started to go to work on his shirt buttons.
“Patience, chérie,” he murmured, capturing her fingers yet again. “I want to undress you.” Moving behind her, he began kissing her neck. Slowly, oh, so slowly, he wove a path down one shoulder to the center of her back, down to where the dress slashed to her waist.
Liza trembled as he eased down the zipper and nibbled at the sensitive spot from her waist to the edge of her bikini brief. Arrows of heat shot to her center as his mouth retraced his way back up her spine to the other shoulder. Then he began peeling the dress off her shoulders, taking time to kiss each inch of flesh he exposed.
By the time her dress was off, and she stood before him in her panties and hose, her body was quivering with need. She reached for him again, ready to rip off his shirt.
Once again Jacques stayed her movement. “Not yet,” he told her as he eased her back onto the bed. After kicking off his shoes, he joined her and proceeded to slowly drive her insane.
Lifting her hands over her head, Jacques began the torture again. He kissed her fingers, her wrists, nibbled his way to her elbow. Lord, Liza thought, she hadn’t known her elbows were such an erogenous zone.
“If I release your hands,” he said, in a voice that was not at all steady. “I want you to promise not to touch me until I tell you to.”
Unbearably aroused, she glared at him, furious at his ability to remain so in control of himself when her control had deserted her long ago.
He nipped the underside of her arm. “Promise me, chérie. Otherwise, we will be here all night.”
“I promise,” she said coolly, then ruined it by whimpering as his tongue flicked the shell of her ear. He nibbled his way to her neck, her jaw. She turned her head to meet his mouth, only to have him tease her by tracing her lips with his tongue. “Not yet,” he whispered, before moving down her throat to her collarbone.
He cupped her breasts, traced the tips with his fingers, then his tongue. When he took the nipple into his mouth, Liza nearly came off the bed. She curled her fingers into the sheets to keep from breaking her promise and reaching for him.
Then he moved lower. Down her rib cage, across her stomach, to the edge of her panties. He moved lower still. First she felt his breath whisper over the thin silk of her panties. Then his tongue began to stroke her through the silk.
Liza cried out. She arched her body as she felt herself climbing toward the peak. Over and over again, she felt the stroke of silk and the heat of his tongue pushing her closer and closer to the crest. Then the first spasms hit. Liza cried out again as her body shuddered with pleasure. She had barely got her breath back when Jacques gently nipped her with his teeth and started the explosions streaking through her again.
“Oh, Jacques, hurry. Please.” She tore at the buttons of his shirt, greedily wanting to taste the skin beneath. She scraped her teeth across his nipple.
He swore. Liza jerked her head up as he tossed away his slacks and moved between her legs. He stripped away her panties and entered her. Then he began to move inside her with deep, slow strokes that took her to the brink, tipped her over and then sent her in a free fall of pleasure. Each time she recovered, he began the trek again.
“Please, Jacques,” she told him, when she thought she couldn’t possibly stand the pleasure any longer. “This time, I want you with me.”
And when he drove her to the edge once more, he clutched her to him, called out her name and jumped off the edge with her.
Hours later, exhausted and sated, Liza lay awake wrapped in his arms, cocooned by the warmth of their lovemaking. She willed the dawn not to come. She didn’t want the night to end, Liza admitted, as she burrowed closer to Jacques, pressing her bottom more intimately to him. Because when morning came she would have to say goodbye.
Jacques stirred. His hands began to move in lazy circles over her breasts, along her waist, her hips. She could feel him hardening, pressing against her buttocks. And then those clever fingers of his dipped lower, slipped inside her. First one. Then another.
While his fingers stroked the sensitive bud at her center, she felt his other hand skim her buttocks. Closing her eyes, Liza gave herself up to the dizzying sensations. After all, she told herself, morning was still hours and hours away.
Ten
Morning came much too soon, Jacques decided as he squinted at the bright sun streaming through the bedroom window. But oh, what a night it had been. Noting the empty space beside him, he plopped down again on the bed and stretched. Things had been good between Liza and him three years ago, but it had been nothing compared to last night. He drew in a deep breath and smiled as he caught the whiff of gardenias that lingered on the sheets.
Face it, Gaston. You’ve got it bad.
And he did, Jacques admitted, as he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He’d known a lot of women in his time, some intimately and some not, but none of them came close to making him feel the way Liza did. Turning on the shower, he stepped under the hot spray. The woman exasperated him, even infuriated him at times, but she also made him happier than he’d ever been. And he couldn’t imagine his life without
her.
Stunned, Jacques froze in the midst of soaping his chest, then choked as his slackened jaw took in a mouthful of water. Coughing, he staggered to the bench in the shower and slumped down on the seat. He drew several deep, calming breaths. Still shaken by his own thoughts, he leaned his head against the tiled wall and closed his eyes.
He wasn’t in love with Liza, he told himself. He couldn’t be. He never fell in love with any one woman—at least no more than any other man did when he found himself in the company of a female and the physical chemistry between them clicked. Besides, he reasoned, he’d always been very careful not to bruise any woman’s heart and not to let any woman close enough to bruise his.
Only he hadn’t been as careful when it came to Liza. Not three years ago. Certainly not now. Water continued to spray, filling the stall with steam, and Jacques struggled to slow the panic beat of his heart.
Imbécile!
He’d been too caught up in his desire for her to recognize just how deep and fast he’d been sinking. Even though he had admitted caring for her, having deep feelings, he’d convinced himself it wasn’t love. Cursing himself for his own arrogance, Jacques stepped back under the shower’s spray.
It wasn’t too late. He wouldn’t let it be, he told himself. Reaching for the shampoo, he dumped some on his hair and began to scrub. Liza knew his stance on love and commitment. He didn’t offer any. Unlike three years ago, last night she’d made no mention of the future. It wasn’t as though she’d asked him for a commitment. She hadn’t. Jacques frowned as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. She hadn’t offered any this time, either.
Stepping out of the shower, Jacques toweled himself off and moved in front of the mirror to shave. He wiped the steam from the glass.
And if she had offered you her love? If she had asked you for a commitment, what would your answer have been?
Jacques stared at himself in the mirror. But it was his father’s face he saw looking back at him. And he remembered. The cruel laughter. The sting of heavy fists. The sound of his mother weeping.
No. His answer would have been no. It had to be. The darkness stopped with him. He cared for Liza, had feelings for her, strong feelings. But what he felt wasn’t love. He wouldn’t let it be. No way would he ever allow himself to sink into that trap.
He hadn’t sunk yet, Jacques told his reflection. Picking up the electric razor he flipped on the switch and began to shave. And he wasn’t going to sink, either.
He was sinking faster than the Titanic, Jacques admitted twenty minutes later as he followed Liza into the living room. She placed her overnight bag beside the door, and when she turned around, he blocked her path. “What do you mean, you are leaving?”
Liza tipped her chin up. The smile she gave him was as bright and phony as a cubic zirconia. “Just what I said. I’m going home.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes,” she said calmly. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t go?”
“Yes. No.” Panic seized him, and along with it came anger. “What about last night?”
“Well, the gala was a tremendous success, in large part due to you. I don’t know how to tha—”
“I am not talking about the damn gala!” He grabbed her shoulders, furious with her and himself. “I am talking about us. You and me. And what went on between us in that bedroom last night.”
“Last night was... well, it was wonderful, Jacques. I don’t have to tell you that you’re a very skilled lover. You already know it.” Color climbed up her cheeks, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Last night was very special to me. I’ll cherish the memory of it always.”
“That’s it?” Enraged, he wanted to shake her. He released her instead. He raked his hands through his hair and paced the length of the room. It was happening too fast, too soon. He wanted more time. He’d counted on having more time. He wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. He whipped around and glared at her. “You plan to just waltz right out of here with a ‘Thanks for a good time, but so long’?”
“I think it’s for the best. I know what your feelings are on commitment, and I think you know mine. We’re both adults, Jacques. I don’t see any point in drawing this thing out and pretending there was more to last night than there was.”
Temper took him by storm, bathing her and everything in his vision in a red mist. “And just what was last night to you, Liza?”
“It... it was a wonderful interlude for me. Just as I hope it was for you. But it’s over. And I think it’s better if we end things now. I know your feelings about not wanting anyone to get in too deep.”
Jacques felt himself go under for the third time. Unable to stop himself, he marched over to Liza and hauled her up against him. “Well, it is too late. I am already in too deep.” He kissed her, then. It was an angry, punishing kiss, filled with all the fury and fear inside him.
She struggled against him, wrestled to free her wrists from his grasp. He tightened his hold. At the sound of her whimper, Jacques released her immediately. Guilt raced through him at the thought that he had hurt her. He started to lift his head. “Liza, I—”
She curled her fingers into his shirt and pressed her mouth against his, cutting off the apology he’d been about to make. Gently, sweetly, she soothed him with her lips. When she released him and he lifted his head, she asked, “Now what was that you said about being in too deep?”
Oh, Lord, what had he said? He stepped away from her, scrubbed his hand over his face. “I said I am already in too deep.” And he was, Jacques realized. He was in deeper than he’d ever dreamed he could be.
“Exactly what does that mean?”
What did it mean? He didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t want to think about what it meant.
“Jacques? Are you saying that you love me?”
“No!” Just the word alone had panic racing through him. A cold sweat broke out across his brow.
“Then what?”
“How the hell do I know what it means?” He was furious with himself for feeling; furious with her for making him feel. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted more than he was willing to give her. But he couldn’t bring himself to just walk away from her. “It means... it means I do not think I will ever be able to give you what you want. In fact, I am sure I cannot. But I... I cannot just let you walk out of my life the way you did the last time.”
Liza stared at him for long moments. “So what do you suggest we do?”
“How the hell do I know?” He raked his hands through his hair, growing more irritated by the second that she could stand there looking so cool, so calm, when inside he was dying. Didn’t she know how hard this was for him? He’d sworn never to allow himself to feel this way about anyone. He’d sworn never to run the risk of wanting what he knew he couldn’t have.
“Well. if you figure out just what it is you want, you know how to reach me.” She reached for her. bag.
“Wait!”
Liza set her case back down and turned to him again. He drew in a deep breath. “What if—” He swallowed. “Maybe we could try living together for a while.”
“You want me to live with you?”
“Yes.” Oh, Lord; he couldn’t believe he’d said it. “Maybe if we lived together for a while we could see if this...this thing that is between us, if it is strong enough to last or if it will just burn itself out.”
Feeling a bit unsteady, he sank down on the nearest chair. After his head cleared, he realized Liza hadn’t responded. He looked up to find her studying him with dark, somber eyes. For the life of him, he couldn’t make out what she was thinking, and that had his stomach knotting up again. “So what do you think? Do we make an attempt at living together?”
“I need some time to think about it.”
“Fine. Take your time,” he told her, not sure if he was relieved or not.
“But before I give you my answer, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
She probably wanted him to meet her brother. Wha
t was his name? Edward. Yes, that was it. Edward. She’d told him the guy he’d seen her with at the children’s center had been her brother. Feeling somewhat better, he said, “Sure. But I thought you said your brother and his family already left.”
“They did.”
Puzzled, he asked, “Then who is it you want me to meet?”
“Jack.”
Dear God, please don’t let this be a mistake, Liza prayed as she checked in her rearview mirror to make sure Jacques had followed her off the highway exit marked St. Charles. She had been all set to walk away that morning, to never see him again and get on with her life.
And then he’d suggested they try living together. For a man who shunned commitment, it was a major turnabout. Liza shook her head in wonder. She wasn’t sure who had been more surprised by the offer, her or Jacques.
She bit back a grin, remembering the shock on his face, how deathly pale he had gone after he’d realized what he’d said. She could never remember seeing him so distraught, so unsure of himself. Heaven help her, but she’d decided to take a chance and tell him the truth.
Flipping on the turn signal, Liza drove onto the street leading to her home. Snow-covered trees, lined up like sentinels, stretched down the length of the street. Christmas tree lights winked from behind windows, reminding her it was only a few days until Christmas. As she turned into the driveway of her brick and stucco ranch house, the big green wreath with its bright red bow and bells brought a smile to her lips. Please, please for all of our sakes, but especially for Jack’s, don’t let this have been a mistake.
After pulling her car into the garage, Liza retrieved her bag from the trunk and waited at the doorway for Jacques to park his car and join her. Judging from the scowl on his face as he exited his vehicle, he was no happier now than he had been an hour earlier when she’d refused to answer any of his questions about Jack and had insisted they drive separately.
The separate cars had been a defense measure on her part, Liza admitted. She hadn’t wanted to be interrogated by Jacques during the drive, but more important, she had wanted him to have a means of escape if he decided he wanted no part of her and his son.
