by Sandra Owens
Was there yearning in her eyes, too? Had she grown up with parents who adored her, or had she had a lousy childhood? Was she wanting something she knew and understood, or something she’d never had? Was she only looking for a good time, or did she want something more?
It occurred to him that where she was concerned, he only had questions. He knew nothing about her except she had eyes he could drown in and a mouth he could kiss for a month without coming up for air. She never talked about her past or even if she had family. It was time to find out just who Sugar Darling was.
“When’s your last day?” Maria asked.
Her last day? Was she quitting her job at the Booby Palace? She’d said something about that several mornings ago, but he had been distracted by a blouse that had slid open and the do-me heels she wore. He waited for her answer, hoping that was what Maria meant.
Holy Batman, Robin. Jamie had almost kissed her in front of his friends, and Sugar would’ve let him. The man could make her forget her own name, all of them.
She blinked, focusing on Maria. “Next Friday.”
Sitting close to him, she could feel his heat, could smell him. Sandalwood, maybe? Whatever it was, it made her think of leather and woods and sex. Not the kind of sex she’d known with Rodney, but the kind that could be good. Really, really good. More than anything, she wanted to press her nose against his skin and inhale him deep into her lungs. If anyone could replace memories of the smell of Old Spice and sweat, sloppy, wet kisses and pain, it was Jamie.
That was all she wanted from him. Bad memories replaced by good ones. Anything more, like a future and love, wasn’t in the cards for her. At some point, she would pack up and run. As it appeared someone might be on her trail, it would likely be soon.
“You’re quitting your job?”
She lifted her gaze to Jamie. “Yes, Maria offered me a position at K2, and I accepted.”
“Good.”
Did his slight hesitation in answering mean anything? Maybe he wouldn’t like her working where he did. Too bad. She’d trade Junior for a chance to get away from the Booby Palace. Okay, not Junior, but almost anything else.
When she’d earlier told Maria about the man knocking on doors at her condo, she’d fully expected to have the offer withdrawn. Not only had that not happened, but her friend wanted her to stay at her house for a few days, just to be safe. Not used to anyone caring about her well-being, it’d been all she could do not to cry.
Although appealing, she’d declined. Not that Jake couldn’t hold his own in a fair fight, but Rodney was a devious snake. If he found out she was under their protection, he’d go after the one he considered the weakest: Maria. No, she was grateful to have friends in her life, but she would not put them in danger.
“We need to leave soon if we’re gonna make the movie,” Jake said.
Sugar stood and picked up her plate.
“You two sit.” Maria took her plate away. “Jake and I’ll get this, you finish your wine.”
When she started to protest, Jamie slipped his fingers into the waist of her skirt and tugged her down. “You heard the lady.”
When they were alone, she tried to think of something to say, but the feel of his hand pressed between her waistband and her skin scrambled her brains. She couldn’t figure him out. Only a week ago, she would’ve sworn he couldn’t stand her. Yet, he’d shown up at the Booby Palace and saved her from Kyle’s advances. He’d appeared every night thereafter and followed her home, making sure she arrived safely.
He’d kissed her. More than once, and all she could think . . . when would he do it again? She grabbed her wineglass and lifted it to her lips, gulping down the little bit left.
“Sugar.”
The low rumble of her name sent heat pooling between her thighs and she squeezed them together. “Mmm?”
“I want to kiss you.”
Her eyes snapped up to his. “You do?”
“Yes.” His gaze settled on something behind her. “But not now. Time to go.”
Seriously? He could practically melt her bones with the heat in his eyes, announce he wanted to kiss her, and then expect her to stand on legs she was sure no longer worked?
Seriously?
CHAPTER NINE
When Jamie pulled up in front of her condo, Sugar debated inviting him inside. Was he expecting her to, or would he think her too forward? If he asked her how she’d liked the movie, she wouldn’t know what to say. She hadn’t paid attention to one minute of it. How could she, with scrambled eggs for brains?
Sitting next to him in the dark theater, all she’d been able to do was inhale the spicy man-scent of him, feel the hairs on his forearm brush against her skin, and think about kissing him some more. When he turned off the engine and shifted to face her, every nerve ending in her body crackled with anticipation. Hannah—the shy, scaredy-cat girl—would’ve jumped out of the car and run inside.
So, Sugar did the opposite. She unbuckled her seat belt, leaned over the console, and touched her lips to Jamie’s. He grunted and wrapped his arms around her back, crushing her against him, his tongue invading her mouth. His hand fisted in her hair, holding her in place. The console hurt her ribs, and she tried to shift away from it.
He broke the kiss and gave a breathless chuckle. “The last time I made out in a car, I was in high school. I’m hurting you.”
Although she wanted to deny it so he’d keep kissing her, it had hurt. “Would you like to come in?” Damn, her voice sounded like she’d run a marathon. She sat back in her seat and inhaled air in an attempt to calm her racing heart. “If you don’t want—”
“I want.”
Thank you, God. As they approached her condo, doubts set in. Were they going to have sex? Did she want to? What if she disappointed him? Her only knowledge of what happened between a man and a woman was with Rodney, and that hadn’t been close to normal.
At her door, he took her key and unlocked it. Junior pounced as soon as it opened, almost tripping her. “Silly boy.” She picked him up and kissed his nose. “At least let us get inside before you attack.”
“Meep.”
“Little liar. I fed you before I left.” She glanced at Jamie to see him watching her, a rare smile on his face. “Meep is his word for feed me. I’ll indulge him this time, or he’ll never leave us alone.”
“You speak cat? I’m impressed.”
She laughed. “It’s not a difficult language to grasp. Meep is feed me and mowwl is everything else, from pet me to leave me the hell alone. You want a root beer or some coffee?”
“No thanks.” He followed her into the kitchen and made himself at home at her little pub table. She tried to ignore the way his eyes tracked her every move.
As soon as he heard the can opener, Junior ran his figure eights around her legs. Her nerves hummed a loud tune through her body, which she attributed to having Jamie’s attention so focused on her. The way his gaze skimmed over her from head to toes sent her heart into a jittery dance. God, she’d have a meltdown if he didn’t stop staring at her like that, as if he wanted to gobble her up.
Men are all alike. He’s probably no different than Rodney. “Shut up, Hannah,” she murmured.
“Did you say something?”
“No.” Sugar put the dish on the floor for Junior, angling away from Jamie to hide her face and the doubt she wasn’t sure she could conceal. She suddenly felt confused as to who she was. Hannah wanted to crawl under the covers and hide from the raw I-want-you look in his eyes. Sugar wanted to know if Rodney had it all wrong.
“Come here, Sugar.”
At the low, rumbling sound of his voice, she turned to see Jamie spread his legs, inviting her to walk between them. Jesus God help her, she went to him. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her against him, his erection pressing just below her stomach. She’d made him grow hard? She, Hannah? How many t
imes had Rodney drilled into her head she wasn’t the kind of woman a man wanted, that he was only doing her father a favor?
Too many to count. By all that was holy, she hoped he’d been lying. Stop thinking about Rodney, Sugar. Just stop.
Jamie slid his hands down, cupping the mounds of her ass, and she forgot the bad memories. Her legs threatened to give out, but he kept her upright, the muscles in his arms flexing. She lifted her gaze to his eyes. The heat in them could start a bonfire.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, immediately regretting she’d admitted that much.
Confusion clouded his eyes. “Please tell me you’re not a virgin.”
Now there was a loaded question. Technically, the answer was no with extenuating circumstances, but never in a million years could she tell him Hannah wasn’t a virgin but Sugar was. Nor could she ever tell him the hell Hannah had lived through before escaping.
“Of course not.” By the relief in his eyes, she knew he would have pushed her away and walked out the door if she’d said yes. Silly, honorable man.
“Thank God.” His mouth covered hers, his tongue scraping over hers, the fingers of one of his hands spreading over her bottom, the other slipping under her blouse. Heat from his palm warmed her back as he traced the curve of her spine, sending shivers spiraling through her body. She slid her arms around his neck and wondered if the mewling sound came from her.
“Bedroom,” he growled and scooped her up as if she weighed no more than her cat.
Was she really going to go through with it? If she stopped, however, she didn’t think she’d ever find the courage to try again. She would never know if being with a man was something she could enjoy.
If anyone could prove to her sex was all it was cracked up to be, it was the man who’d just kicked the door shut in Junior’s face. Ignoring the cat’s howling protest, Jamie came to a stop at the edge of her bed, and still holding her, lowered his face, his mouth covering hers.
Holy bejesus, the man could kiss.
He let go of her legs and she slid down his body. It was like sliding down a wall of rock-hard muscles. To keep from ending up in a boneless pile at his feet, she grabbed his waist and plastered herself against his chest. Totally by accident, her ear ended up pressed over his heart, and she heard it pounding like a jackhammer on turbo speed. It boosted her confidence to know she could do that to him.
Jamie’s eyes grew wide as he surveyed her bedroom. “Wow.”
She followed his gaze as he took in a room rivaling that of any brothel’s. Although the rest of her condo was tastefully decorated, she’d gone a little crazy with this room in a weird attempt to conquer her fears of what went on behind closed doors. What she’d ended up with, she still didn’t understand, but she liked it because Hannah would hate it with a passion.
A sinfully thick, white throw rug covered the oak floor next to a bed blanketed by a deep-burgundy comforter, and matching velvet drapes covered the windows. She’d splurged on expensive cream-colored silk sheets, and they were heavenly to sleep on. Old-fashioned lamps with crystal beads dangling from the bottoms of the rose-colored shades graced each night table. A ceiling fan that appeared to be dried palm fronds lazily circled overhead, creating a soft breeze.
The highlight of the room though—and what Jamie intently stared at—was a four-foot-square painting of a nude man and woman entwined in each other’s arms.
“Sometimes I lie here at night and wish a man would look at me the way he’s looking at her,” she said, then squeezed her eyes shut. What was wrong with her? Well, that’s what happened when she stopped thinking—things popped out of her mouth she’d never want to admit to anyone, especially him.
She felt his body shift toward her, felt his thumb trace the outline of her lips. The sleeve of his shirt brushed her arm, prickling her hairs. Her senses heightened, she inhaled his scent and her mouth watered. When she started to open her eyes, he lightly pressed his fingers over her eyelids.
“No. Keep them closed.”
Her heart stumbled at the huskiness in his voice, and she willingly obeyed. It was easier to accept his touch with her eyes closed, when she didn’t have to look into his and wonder if he only thought of her as a convenient screw. No, that wasn’t Jamie, not the man she’d come to know the past few weeks.
Oh, God, let him be a kind lover. Please let me enjoy what is about to happen.
“And stop thinking,” he growled next to her ear, startling her.
She thought he might be asking the impossible, but he didn’t know Hannah was also screaming in her ear to run. Please go away, Hannah. Please don’t ruin this for me.
“Sugar?”
Her eyes popped open. “What?”
“Close your eyes and stop thinking.”
There was desire in his eyes for her, yes, there was. She was sure of it. A little piece of her fell in love with him then, but that was all she could spare him. It was enough though for her to once again obey him. She closed her eyes and stopped thinking.
His thumb returned to her mouth, pushing its way inside. She tasted the saltiness of his skin and licked her way from one end of it to the other before starting over. Next thing she knew, she was naked. He’d stripped her with the experience of a man long used to undressing women. She refused to think about that.
“Now you,” she said urgently, opening her eyes, wanting to see his beautiful body. She wasn’t disappointed. By the time he’d shed the last of his clothes, she was close to drooling.
A broad chest tapered to abs so hard she was sure she could bounce a ball off them. Narrow hips came next, then . . . then his erection. She tried to be all cosmopolitan about seeing him . . . seeing that. She really did. She failed. It pointed at her as if it were an arrow aiming straight at her and, oh God, it was huge. It would never fit inside her.
Hannah surfaced, screaming that he was going to hurt her.
Sugar’s stomach rebelled.
Jamie froze at the panic in Sugar’s eyes. She’d seen a man aroused before, she’d said so. She wasn’t a virgin so why did she look as if she were about to lose her dinner?
“What the hell?” The only answer was Junior, yowling to get in.
Her color turned pea green, and she ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. More confused than he’d ever been in his life, he stood, naked, in the middle of a bedroom a whore would die for and tried to make sense of the inexplicable. She wasn’t a virgin. She had silk sheets and a nude picture on the wall, so why had she taken one look at his erection and turned green?
And what was with all the night-lights? Every outlet had one plugged into it, and that was just weird.
Retching sounds came from behind the door. His erection shrank at the thought of her being sick. Ignoring his briefs, he grabbed his pants and slipped them on. The door was unlocked, so he went in to find her with her head hanging over the porcelain rim of the toilet.
He positioned himself behind her and gathered up her hair. She tensed at his touch, and he murmured soft words to her. Damn, he hated seeing her like this.
Jamie refused to consider that he had been cursing left and right since he’d walked in her front door. What did confuse him, though, was how she’d gone from all soft and dreamy when he’d touched her, to hugging the john. Something was going on inside her head and he’d sure as hell like to know what.
She grabbed a wad of toilet tissue and swiped it across her mouth as if she was angry at the world. There was only one thing he could think of that would cause her to shy away from being touched. Someone had hurt her. He wanted a name, someone he could pay a visit and show the man—because it had to be a man, didn’t it?—how it felt to be on the receiving end.
Did he really want to play hero to a woman he’d never consider as a mother to his children? She was too flighty, too . . . too Sugar for the role. The time with her was only sup
posed to be for fun, something he’d denied himself for years. Had he mistakenly convinced himself she was looking for the same thing?
Although he eyed the door with longing, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. “Hey, you okay?” he asked when she leaned back against him, refusing to acknowledge how right it felt for her to curl her body into his.
“I’m fine. Really. Something I ate, probably.”
“Liar,” he whispered. “Tell me why you took one look at me and ended up praying to the porcelain god.”
She shook her head and tried to crawl away, reaching for a towel.
“Stubborn girl.” He grabbed it and wrapped it around her, picked her up and set her on the counter. The way she hung her head, listless and defeated, tore at something inside him. The last thing he wanted was to feel tender toward her. He wet a washcloth in warm water and gently wiped her face.
Violet-blue eyes peered up at him, and he wanted to beat the daylights out of whoever had put the hurt in them. “Talk to me, Sugar.”
“Mouthwash,” she murmured.
Not what he’d wanted to hear, but he opened her cabinet and found a bottle of mouthwash, handing it to her. After she’d rinsed her mouth, he picked her up, carried her to the bed, and leaned back against the pillows, settling her in front of him.
She brought up her legs, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face against her knees. “I’m sorry.”
The words were whispered, making him want to comfort her, but until he knew what caused her distress, he wasn’t sure what to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The back of her head shook vigorously. “You should probably go.”
He probably should, but much to his surprise, he didn’t want to. Her shoulder-length hair fell forward, exposing a soft expanse of neck. As he stared at the spot he’d like to press his mouth over, he tried to recall exactly when she’d flipped out on him. When he’d undressed, she’d eyed him like he was a piece of candy, her gaze roaming over him. Her eyes had widened when she’d lowered them to his erection. That was the moment she’d turned green, and why was that?
