by HELEN HARDT
"You do like a good steak, don’t you, sugar?"
"Yes, I do."
His smile was pure sin. "So many women these days won’t eat red meat. Heck, they won’t eat anything but rabbit food."
"Well, I enjoy eating," Holly said, "and life is too short not to do the things we enjoy."
"True enough," Jack agreed.
He had no idea how true. The man hadn’t even hit thirty yet. The whisper of a chill skittered up Holly’s neck. She hated thinking about his age. Thinking about his age led to the myriad reasons they could never be together long term. That saddened her, truly. She liked this man more with every minute she spent in his company. He was so much more than a hot cowboy. He was a father, a son, a rancher. Her lips curved. A nude model.
She had to end it tonight. The more time she devoted to him, the harder the heartbreak would be when it ended.
And it would end. That was inevitable.
"So you ready?" Jack said.
Holly nodded and rose. "Yeah, let’s go. Thanks so much for the dinner."
"My pleasure." He stood and helped her with her light sweater. "The gallery’s only a block away. Nice night for a walk."
She nodded again. "I’d like that."
"You okay, sugar? You sound a little down all of a sudden."
Just thinking about turning you loose tonight.
She sighed. "I’m fine, Jack. Just a little tired. But I don’t want to miss this exhibit. I’m a huge fan of Professor Fleming’s work. I hope this exhibit will be his big break."
"He’s hoping so, too." He took her hand and guided her around the tables and out the door of the restaurant.
He continued to hold her hand as they walked. The spring night was balmy and downtown Denver was hopping. Every woman who passed them seemed to be checking Jack out and Holly couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of her, the older woman, on the arm of the hot young cowboy. Her skin prickled with conspicuousness. They didn’t talk during the short walk and Holly breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the small gallery.
A hostess greeted them with glasses of wine and a tray of hors d’oeuvres, which Holly declined. She was so full from dinner she might never eat again.
"There’s Mark," Jack said, gesturing. "Want to go say hi?"
Holly shook her head. "I’m sure he’s busy."
"Not too busy for his favorite godson." Jack pulled Holly along behind him as he made a beeline for Professor Fleming.
"Jack, good of you to come," Professor Fleming said as they approached. "Meet my agent, Mary Rivers."
A small blonde woman held out her hand. Jack shook it, and then said, "This is Holly Taylor."
"A pleasure, Ms. Taylor," Professor Fleming said. "You look familiar. Have we met?"
Holly cleared her throat. "I’m in your perceptual drawing class at the community college."
"Ah, yes, that’s it." He reddened just a bit, but Holly noticed. "Then you were there when Jack—"
"Yeah, she was, but that’s not how we met, so get your mind out of the gutter." Jack exchanged a smile with the older man.
Holly’s cheeks warmed. Get his mind out of the gutter? If he knew how they’d actually met, he wouldn’t think the whole nude model thing was that bad.
She stifled a giggle. "I’m really excited about this exhibit, Professor."
"Please, call me Mark and I hope you enjoy it," he said. "I know Jack’ll take good care of you."
"Count on it, Mark," Jack said, then excused himself and Holly and led her to the first wall of oil paintings.
Holly didn’t enjoy abstracts much, so she was glad Mark had only a few in his exhibit. She much preferred landscapes and portraits. She drank in the colors, the textures, examining each painting closely, then from farther away.
"Wow," Jack said beside her, his warm breath caressing her neck.
"What?"
"You’re looking at each one like it’s unique."
"Each one is unique, silly."
"That’s not what I meant. Heck, I don’t know what I meant. It’s just...beautiful, the way you sink into the art, like you’re becoming one with it."
"I kind of am, I guess. I love art. I always have. I should have learned to create way before now, but—" She sighed. "—life gets in the way sometimes. Decisions get made for the wrong reasons."
Jack said no more and Holly went on to the next painting. It was a little boy on a chestnut horse. Clad in jeans and cowboy boots, he looked to be about five or six years old. Mark had captured his youthful beauty with tiny strokes of the brush. The child’s dark hair and eyes gazed outward, as if he were looking through Holly.
"Gorgeous," she said under her breath.
"You like that one?" Jack said.
"Yes, it’s wonderful. The horse and the child almost seem like one being and the child’s innocence is depicted so beautifully. I can’t believe Mark is only now showing this stuff."
"Oh, I think it’s kind of like you said. Decisions get made. He didn’t decide to get serious about his own work until later in his life."
"That’s sad. I hope this exhibit is successful. In fact, I think I’d like to buy this painting."
"I don’t think that particular one’s for sale, sugar." Jack handed her the program. "It’s not listed."
Holly leafed through the pamphlet. He was right. "Shoot. Well, I’d like to support my professor. I’ll have to find another, I guess."
Holly chose a painting of an older woman gardening. It didn’t move her quite as much as the little boy on the horse, but it was beautiful nonetheless and the color scheme would look great in her loft. She and Jack said goodnight to Mark and took the downtown shuttle back to Holly’s loft.
Jack smiled as he entered the passcode. They took the elevator up and she fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to Jack.
Why had she handed the keys to Jack?
It had been an unconscious move on her part. Weird.
He unlocked the door and followed her in. He set the painting on the floor and smiled at her.
That gorgeous, sexy, heart-stopping smile.
Oh, she was a goner now. She knew exactly what he was after and she wanted it, too.
Was one more night with him too much to ask? Another night of mind-numbing sex that she could remember when it was all over?
"Jack—"
He pulled her to his body, gripped her cheeks with his warm hands, and lowered his mouth to hers.
His full lips were smooth and firm, laced with the lusty spiciness of the Petite Sirah they had drunk at the gallery. Slowly they slid over hers, kissing, caressing, urging, until Holly had no choice but to open to him. The kiss was slow at first, thoughtful, unlike their previous encounters, but its depth evoked powerful emotion from her head to her toes. His lips were numbing, drugging, and they carried her to a place where she felt, for a moment, a happy ending might exist for them. She allowed the illusion to saturate her mind and gave herself freely to his leisurely passion, meeting his gentle tongue with her own, exploring his sweet mouth with a soft fervor.
It was a beautiful kiss, unlike anything she’d experienced. One hand remained firmly on her cheek and his thumb caressed her as though she were made of fine porcelain. His other hand trailed down her neck and made her shiver as he gently massaged her nape. Such wonderful, talented hands.
The kiss continued. He didn’t touch her breasts, didn’t pull her closer into his arousal. She fought her own desire to grind into him, to unbutton his shirt and trail her fingers over his sculpted chest, his copper nipples. Instead she reached upward and tangled her fingers in his silky hair.
Holly lost track of time. Had it been only minutes? Or maybe half an hour? Still his lips held her in thrall and the kiss chorused like a symphony through her veins. Perfect.
The perfect kiss.
Her nipples puckered against her bra and moisture trickled between her legs. Still he kissed her lips and nothing more.
When he finally pulled his mouth
from hers, he looked down at her, his eyes burning, and smiled.
"Holly," was all he said.
She wanted to tell him what that kiss had meant to her, that she would cherish it always. She parted her lips, but no words emerged.
"Sugar, that was the best kiss of my life."
"Oh, Jack, me too."
His fingers still caressing her cheek, he said, "I’m glad to hear that. Glad this isn’t just one-sided."
Holly widened her eyes. "How could you think that?"
"You don’t seem to want me like I want you."
Holly touched his lips, swollen and wet from the kiss. This man was so beautiful "Wanting you isn’t the issue, Jack. It never was. How could any woman not want you?"
He kissed the tips of her fingers and then gripped her shoulders and pulled her against his body. His arousal poked into her belly.
"Feel that? That’s me wanting you, Holly. That’s me dyin’ to make love to you."
"I—"
"Please. Please let me take you to bed tonight."
Holly closed her eyes and buried her head in his hard shoulder. He didn’t know, but she had already made her decision. She would take him to bed.
Tomorrow she’d tell him good-bye.
Chapter Seven
She had the world’s sexiest nipples. Jack couldn’t get enough of Holly’s breasts—their full, round shape, their soft flesh and especially those amazing rosy nipples that fit so well between his lips. They were smooth as satin beneath his fingers and tongue, and they tasted like sweet cream. He’d never known a woman’s nipples to have a flavor, but Holly’s did.
He couldn’t wait to get inside her hot body that gripped his cock like no other. He hadn’t had sex since the night they were together. Sure, he’d had the chance, but he hadn’t wanted to. Strange, but Holly had gotten under his skin that night and when he’d stood before her art class, naked as the day he was born, both joy and anger had seized him—joy that he’d found her and anger that she hadn’t wanted him past that one night.
She was hiding something. That much was clear. At this particular moment, though, he didn’t much care what it was. He burned for her and he was going to have her.
She writhed under him as he licked her nipples, sucked them, bit them. She liked her nipples bitten hard, his Holly, and he was happy to oblige. He trailed his fingers over her soft belly and entwined them through her dark thatch of curls. Nearly black, they were a few shades darker than her long mahogany hair. Why that turned him on, he couldn’t say, but he itched to inhale their muskiness, to sink his tongue into the moist folds they hid. He sifted through the curls to find her swollen clit and he rubbed it as he continued to tug on her nipple.
"God, Jack," she moaned. "Please."
He released the tight bud and smiled. "What, sugar?"
"It feels so good. Put your fingers in me, Jack. Please."
Never one to deny a lady, he inserted two fingers into her hot, wet channel. She clamped around him like a vise and he nearly lost his load right there. She was so tight. He couldn’t wait to sink his cock into her.
He glided in and out of her, enjoying the tight suction of her walls around his fingers. Twisting his hands, he massaged her G-spot and she arched upward. His forearm tensed as he added a third finger, stretching her willing flesh for his hard cock.
He couldn’t take much more, but first he needed to taste her. He unclamped his lips from her gorgeous nipple and let his tongue travel over the round flesh of her breast, down her silky belly and through the pretty dark curls.
He lapped at her folds, the honey and spice a pleasure to savor, as he continued to finger fuck her. She writhed and moaned, sweet symphony to his ears, and he closed his lips around her clit and sucked.
"Yes, Jack, yes!" she rasped, her voice low with desire.
Her walls spasmed, milking his fingers with their sweet contractions. When the convulsions slowed, he sucked her clit and made her come again, just for the sheer pleasure of hearing her moan his name.
"Jack."
Not cowboy. Jack. How sweet the sound from her pink lips.
"Fuck me now, Jack," she said, "please."
Removing his fingers from her took effort, but knowing he’d replace them with his cock made it worthwhile. With haste, he found his jeans crumpled on the floor and withdrew a condom from the pocket. In seconds he sheathed himself and returned to Holly’s bed.
He lay next to her and touched his lips to hers, slowly tracing them with his tongue. He loved to kiss a woman after he’d gone down on her. He had no idea why, but shoving his tongue coated with female musk into her mouth never failed to get him going. Of course, he was horny already but when Holly opened for his kiss and he fed her a taste of her own juices, a spike of intense heat hit him low in the gut.
He caressed her smooth skin, trailing his fingers along her back to the soft curve of her bottom. She had a great ass, just plump enough. He squeezed a firm globe of flesh and a rumble escaped low in his throat. He had to have her. Now.
Still cupping her backside, he glided on top of her and slid himself snugly between her welcoming thighs. He thrust inside and the breathy sigh from Holly warmed his neck and made his skin prickle. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed immobile for a moment, letting himself sink into her tightness. His body was ablaze—hard, hot and filled with lust—yet he needed this closeness, this chance to consume her completely, before he began pumping into her.
Holly had other ideas. She rocked her hips against his and tiny tremors shook his cock. He withdrew slowly then plunged back into her depths. Ah, how her tight suction gripped him, moved him. He thrust into her again and once more. He wanted to give her more, but he was so close. His body ached for release. The slender length of her legs cushioned his pistoning hips and he groaned when her walls clenched around his rock-hard shaft. She was coming, thank God. He let himself go and the vibrations began in his balls as they tightened against his flesh, then traveled through his cock in tiny jerks.
"Holly, sugar," he gasped and spilled into her warmth.
She clutched his ass, pushing him farther into her as he came with violent jolt after jolt of heavenly pleasure so intense it almost hurt.
When his body finally relaxed, she caressed his back, murmuring unintelligible words against his neck. He kissed her sweat-dampened forehead and rolled to his side. His cock, still hard, slid out of her.
"Jack," she said.
"Hmm?" He flung his arm over his forehead. His breathing was unsteady.
"That was amazing."
He couldn’t help but smile. Hell, yeah, it had been amazing. He pulled the soiled condom from his penis and disposed of it in the wastebasket next to her nightstand. He turned to her, her beautiful face glowing with the sheen of perspiration.
"It was goddamn fucking amazing, sugar. The best I’ve had in years. Maybe ever."
Her smile illuminated her beauty. Had he reached her? Would she give him a chance now?
"Come here," he said and she scooted into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and pulled her close. "Sleep now. You’re gonna need it."
* * * *
Holly couldn’t sleep. Jack’s hard body snuggled up to her felt so good. Why couldn’t her life have turned out differently?
Why couldn’t he have been born ten years earlier and already had all the kids he wanted?
Face it, Holly. No matter how you slice it, this wasn’t meant to be.
She disentangled herself from his muscular limbs and padded out to the kitchen for a glass of water. If only he weren’t so sexy, so handsome. But his looks and charisma weren’t what had her so shaken. It was him. Jack. Sure, he had a gorgeous face, an amazing body—but that was superficial. What she loved about him was his kindness, his persistence, his nurturing personality.
Holly’s glass clattered to the bottom of the stainless steel sink. Luckily it didn’t break, and she hoped the noise didn’t wake Jack.
Shit. Had she just thought the word "loved
" about Jack?
God, Holly, you so can’t go there.
Heart-stopping sex does not equal love.
Hands shaking, she retrieved her glass, filled it with cold water, and gulped it down, then splashed the still-running water on her face. She reached for her dishtowel and rubbed the wetness from her skin.
She’d spent two nights with the man. Had two dates with him, if you counted the coffee date yesterday morning. She couldn’t possibly be in love.
Her pulse raced. She was more than a little freaked out. He was too young for her, that was for sure, and there were definitely other reasons he wouldn’t want her. Damn—how could she love him? What a perfect setup for heartbreak and that she did not need.
With a huff, she strode to the extra bedroom that housed her computer. She sat down and typed "older woman/younger man" into the search engine bar.
Over a million hits!
Apparently she wasn’t the only woman who had the hots for a younger man.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she began clicking. Lots of information surfaced and she skimmed it, but when she stumbled into a chatroom called "The Cougar Club" she had to take a closer look. Maybe these ladies would understand her dilemma. Surely one of them might have a similar issue.
She created an account under the name HollyGolightly—not original but she couldn’t think of anything else at midnight—and logged in. Music jingled, indicating a post.
Cublover: Hi Holly!
GoodtimeCharlene: Evening, Holly.
MrsRobinson: Hey there, Holly! Welcome!
Should she lurk? Only these three were in the chatroom besides her. She’d be very conspicuous if she lurked.
She’d log out. This had been a mistake. She was no cougar. Jack wasn’t a cub. It wasn’t going to work out anyway, due to circumstances way more important than their respective ages. Her mouse was poised over the logout link when the jingle sounded again.
Cublover: Welcome to the Cougar Club. Is there anything we can help you with tonight, Holly?
Just click, Holly, just click.
As seconds passed, she knew she wouldn’t leave the chatroom, but she didn’t chat, either.
