by Malone, Nana
“You sore?” He stilled, waiting for an answer.
“A little, but don’t stop.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” The twitch of his cock inside her tight channel wasn’t voluntary, but the movement made her push against him.
“You’re not…hurting me. Don’t…you…dare stop,” she breathed out.
He chuckled, but inched forward again. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.” And he wasn’t kidding. She felt every ridge and vein of him as he moved within her and wished she could have felt this every time. The contrast of his soft satiny skin against the hard column of his cock was enough to make her quiver.
They didn’t have the same urgency as their previous lovemaking sessions. He took his time, as if in no hurry to ever leave. With aching tenderness, he kissed her neck and shoulder whispering words of love into her ear. He told her how beautiful she was, how much he loved being inside her. How much he needed to touch her. How good she felt bare.
All words any woman would love to hear. She felt the telltale clamping of her inner walls and moaned as the pleasure and spasms increased. “Oh, God, Jason.” He wasn’t far behind her, as he gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises and thrust into her. She felt the warm flush of his seed as he tumbled over the edge in release.
“Jesus. Izzy.” After he shuddered, he held her for several minutes before he disengaged.
She stretched languorously and watched his tight butt walk into the bathroom nearest the kitchen. He turned on the bathroom light and for a moment, the light backlit him. He looked back at her and smiled that smile that always made her ache. “You’re beautiful, Izzy Connors. I’m so lucky.”
And, because she knew he meant it, she swiped at the tear that rolled down her cheek. She loved him, and he would break her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jason woke alone. Bright orange rays didn’t illuminate his bedroom, so the sun couldn’t be up yet. However, when he reached out to touch Izzy’s warm pliant curves, all he felt were the rapidly cooling sheets. Only the barest hint of her scent remained.
He rolled out of bed and trolled the house looking for her. She couldn’t have gone anywhere, she didn’t have a car. Although she could have a called a cab, but she wouldn’t have left without so much as goodbye. Would she?
After a thorough search of the upstairs, he found her in the downstairs bathroom adjusting her dress with haste, as she tried to finger comb her hair.
She was leaving? After the night they’d spent together, she’d leave him and try to sneak out in the middle of the night? Hurt and anger tightened the vise on his vocal chords as he spoke. “Going somewhere?”
With a stunned yelp, she whipped around to face him. “Geez, Jason, you scared the shit out of me.” Her fingers fidgeted with her earrings, and she turned back to the mirror. “It’s getting really late, or rather early. I need to get home.”
Her lack of eye contact infuriated him. “So, you were going to leave without so much as thanks for the fuck?”
She turned back to face him. Her eyes flashed daggers of hurt, her lips flattened before she spoke. “It’s nothing less than I’m sure you’ve done.”
He staggered back a step, the sting to his emotions hurt as much as a jaw-numbing slap. “I didn’t sneak out of bed with you, Izzy. You’re the one who’s running. Not me.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she hung her head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I—I don’t know how to do this, okay?” She scraped her wildly curling hair behind her ears, she folded her arms across her chest in a gesture of protection. “I’ve never had a one night stand. I’ve never slept with a man whose modus operandi is to have sex with several women a week.” She held up a hand. “Not that I’m complaining, because obviously, practice makes freaking amazing, but I’m not the girl who can look at you in the morning and be happy you chose me for a night.”
“Where do you get this shit from?” He forced his anger back into its cage as he took a step toward her. “Yes, I’ve slept with a lot of women. I can’t change any of that. And, maybe I’ve been less than pleased to find some of them in my bed come morning, but, Izzy, you’re different. Everything about you, me, us is different. Do you really think I’d wake up, take one look at you after last night and say, ‘Gee, thanks, but I’ve had enough?’ Shit, I’m still hard with need for you.”
Her gaze leveled with his. But for an instant, her eyes flickered to his boxers. Eyes wide, they flicked back to his gaze. The need reflected in her eyes sent sparks of craving to his belly. “You’re not a one night stand for me.”
He could see her softening and let out the constricted air he held in his diaphragm.
“This isn’t a one night stand?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“So I guess I didn’t need to sneak out of bed?” She wrinkled her brow in a sheepish half smile.
“No. You don’t need to run away, Iz. I—” He couldn’t tell her he loved her. She’d run for the hills. “I care about you.” That was better. Still left him a way out of a stinging rejection.
“You have to promise me one thing.”
He pulled her into his arms and relief washed over him once she circled arms around his waist. This was where she belonged. “For you, anything.”
She peeked up at him from under full lashes. “When you’re bored and you’ve had your fill, you’ll tell me like a grown up. Don’t leave me to guess. I couldn’t take that.”
“Izzy, don’t be—”
“Promise me.”
His eyes searched hers. She was serious. She needed him to make that promise. “If the time comes when this isn’t working, not that it ever will come to that, but if it comes, I’ll show you enough respect and tell you like a grown up.”
Like hell. Now that she was back in his life, he wouldn’t let her go. “Now that we’ve got that all sorted out, can we go back to bed? I’d like to see what other types of debauchery we can engage in before I take you back to your respectable life.”
****
“How does it feel to be a rock star?”
Izzy’s head snapped up from her proofs as Jessica threw the Arts and Culture section down onto the proof littered light table. Displaced air whisked strands of hair into her face.
“One good review is hardly rock star status, Jess.” Izzy swiped her wayward strands behind her ears. “Besides, all I care about are sales.”
Jessica rolled her eyes and hopped her ample bottom onto a corner of the light table, further displacing Izzy’s proofs. “Oh, c’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t care about reviews.”
“I don’t,” Izzy said as she resisted the itch in her fingers that urged her to pick up the newspaper.
Jessica narrowed her eyes. “You can’t lie to me, Home Skillet.” Jessica waved the well-worn paper under her nose. “You know you want to read the reviews. Better yet, I’ll read the reviews to you.”
Izzy’s hands cramped from clenching her fists too tight. What’s the worst that could happen? Even if there was a bad review, at least there was one good one. She could live with one good review.
“Okay, read them, but only the good ones. I mean I don’t want to know if anyone thinks my photos are pedestrian or they use ridiculously large words that I can’t pronounce and don’t really want to know what they mean.”
“Got it, I will give you only the pros, and I will use little words as if speaking to a five-year-old or my eighty-two-year-old grandmother.”
Unable to quell the queasy roll of her belly, Izzy took a seat. Reviews could be brutal. She’d seen a review of her last Homelands book. On an ugly scale, it had come amazingly close to a ballet dancer’s mangled feet. And those were the not-so-mean bits.
“Go on. I suppose I’m going to hear the worst of it from Simon anyway.”
Jessica blinked at her. Once, twice. “That’s just it babes, there isn’t a bad one in the lot. All good reviews.”
Beads of sweat scored delicate paths down Izzy’s back. “What do you
mean they’re all good?”
Jessica rolled glitter-laden eyelashes. “You look confused. I really do need to use little words, don’t I?”
“Jessica!”
“All right. All right!” Crinkling sounds of newspaper echoed in the studio, accompanied by the low whir of the air conditioner. “Photographer Z Con brings a delightful blend of whimsy and solitude in…” Jessica used her fingers to track her place on the paper as she read. “A brilliant showing of newcomer Z Con to the world of professional art work. The artist uses her…” “Brilliant…” “Wonderful…” “The artist juxtaposes… Wait, I was supposed to use small words, wasn’t I?”
Izzy felt the fist around her neck loosen its deliberate death grip, allowing air to flow freely into her lungs. They liked her? They’d actually liked her work?
She made a grab for the paper, but Jessica held it out of her reach. “No, no, no. You didn’t want to read the reviews remember? Too busy working yourself to death, remember?”
Izzy sighed and feigned surrender. The instant Jessica let her guard down, Izzy snatched the wrinkled papers from her friend’s hand. Grinning, she said, “You should know better than to buy my fake out.”
Jessica shook her head. “Oh, I’m not buying anything. It was a diversionary tactic.”
Dubious, Izzy lowered the paper, brows furrowed. “Let my guard down for what?”
Jessica snatched the paper back. “You think you can waltz in here after a night like the one you had and not share the deets with me? We’re supposed to be buds, pals, comrades.”
Izzy dodged the rolled up paper aimed for her head. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Jason Cartwright, you little minx. Spill your innards, or there’ll be hell to pay,” she threatened with a wave of the paper.
A hot flush started at the balls of Izzy’s feet, meandered its way over her calves and weakened her knees. Not fair, she wasn’t the only one with some explaining to do. “How about you tell me about you and Simon first.”
Fierce crimson blotches stained Jessica’s cheeks. “What? I—”
Izzy folded her arms and cocked her head to the side. “The coat check? Seriously?”
“Shit, Izzy, I’m so sorry. I had too much to drink and he…Well…God, I can’t believe I’m such a fuck up.” Her shoulders rose to her neck as she inhaled enough breath for another verbal torrent. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t plan it. I swear. It just sort of happened. And I’m not even really sure how. We were fighting, and the next thing I knew—”
Izzy rolled her lips inward to contain a giggle. “You two were going at it like a couple of rabbits on speed.”
“Shit, well, yes. And—wait.” Jessica paused her stream of consciousness to study Izzy’s face. “You’re not upset?”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “Gosh no. A, we already broke up. And B, I think we can both agree that he’s absolutely the wrong fit for me.”
“Yeah, I know. But I still should never have even gone there. And I swear to God, if I hadn’t had so much bloody champagne, none of it would have ever happened. I mean, I broke the ultimate girl code. It’s never going to happen again, and I mean never. Gosh, I can’t even stand the guy. And—”
“Jess.”
Jessica snapped her mouth closed, and Izzy laughed at the wide-eyed contrition in her expression. “It’s really okay. Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve noticed the chemistry between you two on more than one occasion. Something like this was bound to happen. Well, either this, or I’d get a call in the middle of the night to help you move a body.”
“What, you knew this was going to happen?”
Izzy nodded.
Jessica blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Well, you could have told me before I started freaking out about the horror my life had become. I had no idea what to say or do. I kind of hoped I could forget the whole thing.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s Simon. Because I can’t stand the guy. Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“We’ve established I’m not hurt. We’ve established he’s Simon. We haven’t established if you really can’t stand him, or if you’re in denial.” Then, looking from side to side as if looking for eavesdroppers, Izzy lowered her voice. “Was he any good?”
Between her blue-green hair and crimson face, Jessica looked like Christmas. “Hell yes. But I’ll never do that again. Just because you have unbelievable sex with someone doesn’t mean they’re a candidate. Besides—” Her eyes wide, she placed her hands on her hips. “Enough about my idiotic mistakes, give up the goods, girl. I want to hear all about your night of debauchery.”
Surprised at the sudden turn in conversation, Izzy hedged. “What makes you think I slept with him?”
“You mean besides the fact you have the all over sex sheen going? Besides the fact you look more relaxed than I’ve ever seen you since I’ve known you? Besides the fact every time your phone vibrates, you hop up like a rabbit?” She shook her head. “Nothing.”
Izzy felt her lips form a small “O.” It wasn’t supposed to be obvious. Jessica was supposed to think she’d come home on her own and crashed in bed from the high of the successful opening.
“Don’t even think about lying. You were also in here before I got in at seven, which means you made a special effort to get here before me and not look suspicious. Thereby, making you even more suspicious.”
Izzy willed the floor to open and swallow her whole, but nothing happened. When willing didn’t work, she tried prayer to God, the earth mother, and the patron saint of humiliation. None answered her plea. She cleared her throat. “I get in early sometimes.”
Jessica hopped down off the light table. “Yes, my dear, but you’re a creature of habit. You come in, make a beeline for the Red Bulls, which will kill you by the way. You turn the computer on and have your read through TMZ.com. You make an attempt at a healthy breakfast with some instant oatmeal, then you get to work.”
Izzy jutted out her chin. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, where’s the Red Bull can? Where’s the bowl of instant oatmeal? And why are you hovering over your phone like a hooker guarding her street corner?”
Defeated, Izzy didn’t bother to hide the giggle as her shoulders slumped forward. “Okay, fine, you’re right.”
Jessica’s high-pitched squeal sliced through the calm and sent reverberations of energy all around. “I knew it, I knew it! Okay, so tell me, was it totally worth it?”
The corners of Izzy’s mouth moved jerkily into a full on grin as if pulled by two kittens hell bent on reaching the butterfly stud earrings in her ears. “Completely well worth it.”
“So he tastes as good as he looks?”
Izzy dropped her head in her hands, unable to contain the giggle fit. “Better.”
“You lucky bitch. If only I could have a one night stand with someone like Jason Cartwright. I can’t believe it. He looks like…”
“I think it’s time I got back to work, Jess.”
Jessica shook her head and dislodged several strands of green streaks onto her rosy cheeks. “O. M. G. Stop the blogs! Honey, you’re not—you didn’t fall for this guy again… Did you?”
Izzy shook her head and busied herself with the now disarrayed proofs on the table. “No, of course not. It was nice, fun. But that’s the end of it.”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “You’re doing that eye aversion thing you always do when you try and lie. Oh, Iz, honey, no.”
“Relax, okay, I’m not falling for him. It’s a fun fling thing. He’s that guy, you know. Easy to get caught up with, but I’m fine. I’ll keep my wits about me.”
Jessica gnawed on her bottom lip. “Babes, when I suggested you ride that pony, I thought you needed to get over that thing you’ve carried around for him all this time. I never thought you’d—”
Izzy grasped Jessica’s hand across the table. “And I haven’t. He beds a new woman every other night, and they all fall all over him. I’m not one of
those girls. I’m grown. I wanted him, I had him. No biggie.”
Jessica shrugged but her eyes remained narrowed. “If you’re sure. Guys like Jason Cartwright, they’re good to look at, but no good for relationships. Not a few weeks ago, he was photographed with Sabrina.”
Izzy told herself she didn’t feel like her heart had been tied to an iron anchor and dropped into the center of the ocean. She told herself she was in no way falling for Jason again. When her phone buzzed insistently on the table, sounding like an angry swarm of bees, she told herself it wasn’t disappointment to see the name Simon flash on the LCD.
Chapter Thirty
Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Don’t stare.
No matter how many times Izzy told her eyes to stay on their task and keep all of her fingers intact as she sliced onions, they insisted, needed, pleaded to follow Jason around her brightly lit kitchen.
She drank in every move he made. Bronzed hands contrasted sand-colored countertops as they sifted through proofs. Muscled forearms bunched and released with every movement.
“Is the plan to concentrate on what you’re doing or stare at me all afternoon?” He flashed her a grin that better women would have swooned at. Each casual glance, each oh-so-sexy smile, sent heated shivers zinging over her flesh.
Was this what it felt like to be infatuated? It had been so long she’d forgotten. One drawn out week since they’d “gone to Malibu”, since she’d lost her heart again. They hadn’t seen each other until today, and all she could do was think about doing something inappropriate on top of the countertops.
A slam of the front door slapped her back to the present. “Nick, is that you?”
The sizzle and pop of the heated oil on the stove told her it was time to add the onions. She looked over Jason’s hand-written instructions on foolproof Pad-Thai. They seemed simple enough. As she added the onions, their pungent scent filled the air. She felt very chef like. No need to mention to Jason that she’d chopped the onions too small. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
No response sounded from the family room, but a shuffle from the doorway brought her around. A bloody-lipped Nick bore a sullen expression as he graced the doorway. He caught sight of Jason, and the scowl on his face deepened to a cartoonish snarl.
