Wordless (Pink Sofa Secrets Book 1)

by Mel Sterling

  In only a moment he was hard and eager in her palm. Her grip tightened and firmed, pulling at him, tugging, bringing a pleasure so intense it was nearly pain. He started to speak, to tell her she didn't have to soothe him. She smiled at him, shaking her head.

  "Let me," she murmured, holding his gaze with hers. "It's all right." Her fingers moved on him, her hand already slippery. "This will help you sleep."

  "Lexie—" He threw his head back when her thumb rubbed over the moist tip of his cock. "What about—what about you—"

  "It's all right," she said again. She squirmed a little higher in the bed, where she could watch his face as she touched him, the way he had watched her earlier. "It's all right. Don't talk. Just feel."

  When he came apart in her hand a minute or two later, his gaze still locked with hers, it was as if he had fallen into her soul. In her care he was able to leave the bad dreams behind. This time his sleep had no beasts or demons to haunt it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "WELL. NO WONDER Y'ALL didn't hear me knocking."

  The voice was a quiet drawl, filled with amusement. For a moment Lexie thought it must be part of a dream, or perhaps Jack had turned on the television—though she couldn't recall seeing a TV in his room. She sat up in the bed, rubbing at her eyes.

  Then she snatched the blankets to her chest, pulling them up under her chin with one hand, and shoving at Jack's naked hip with the other.

  "Wh-who are you?" she demanded. "What are you doing here? How did you get in here?" Jack was still out cold, sleeping on his stomach. She shoved at him again. "Jack! Wake up!"

  The man held up a key, then touched his hand to the brim of his baseball cap in a small salute. "Gardner Dawson. At your service. My buddy JT left me a key, but he didn't answer his phone this morning, so I just came on over. Ma'am."

  There was a grin on the man's face. He was dense and bunched with muscle, a little shorter than Jack, clean-shaven, dressed in loose jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt with a windbreaker unzipped over it. A fat duffel bag hung from his left shoulder until he eased it down to the floor. The right leg of his jeans was hemmed short at what would have been the middle of his calf, and below it was a prosthetic limb that was more a curving sweep of flat blade than leg or foot. Lexie stared at the prosthetic for a moment longer. Amputee? Veteran? Who on earth?

  Jack stirred beside her, his hand sliding up her leg beneath the blankets. A slow smile spread across his sleepy face, but he didn't open his eyes. "Morning, beautiful," he murmured. "How about we delay those omelets just a little bit longer?"

  "Yo, JT," the man said, grinning wider.

  Jack sat up like he'd been jolted by a cattle-prod. Lexie fought to keep the blankets beneath her chin.

  "I hope you know this guy, Jack. Because otherwise I think this time we really do need to call the police."

  Jack let out a whoop and bounced out of the bed. Stark naked—and in the slanted morning light, even filtered through the room's sheer curtains, Jack was a sight she could appreciate with all her femininity—he hauled Gardner Dawson into a man hug and pounded him on the back. They followed with fist bumps, handshakes, another man hug and more pounding.

  Lexie's gaze fell on their discarded clothing, strewn from the door to the bed in last night's clinch. Her panties were tangled with her tights. Her skirt and top were tossed over a chair and the table, respectively, with Jack's jeans and briefs in a heap next to the bed. Heat flared in her cheeks. Not that it wasn't already absolutely clear to any onlooker what she and Jack had been doing. It wasn't how she'd have chosen to waken, or to meet someone who was clearly important in Jack's life.

  "Gard! Buddy! Lemme fix you some breakfast. Bet you're starving."

  "JT, put some britches on. Mind your manners. You haven't introduced me to your lady."

  Jack glanced down at himself, colored slightly, and grinned. "Guess you caught me a little unprepared. This is Alexia." Jack's smile was warm and intimate, and Lexie flushed anew.

  "I called, I texted, didn't get ahold of you. What else did you want me to do? I thought the arrangement was I'd get the key and come on in and we'd go from there."

  "Yeah, yeah, that's right. Must've turned off my phone, or else the battery's dead. I was…" Jack looked over at Lexie, still clutching blankets to her chin. "…distracted."

  "Tell me about it." The man gave Lexie a smile that was charming in the extreme, cheerful and pleasant, and repeated his introduction. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I'm Gardner Dawson. JT's a friend of mine from the Corps."

  "Lexie Worth," she replied firmly, and put out a hand from under the blankets for him to shake. "I didn't know Jack—JT—was in the Marines."

  "I wasn't." Jack balanced on one leg as he scrambled into his underwear. "I was an embedded journalist with Gard's squad in Iraq."

  Lexie watched Jack unself-consciously settle himself in his clothing, as if it were a perfectly everyday occurrence to get dressed in front of someone else. She supposed the enforced intimacy of a military platoon had pushed aside privacy in favor of practicality. His lean flanks and buttocks flexed with each movement. The jeans followed, but Jack didn't bother with his shirt. While he didn't have a body-builder's washboard abdomen like the one Gardner Dawson's tight T-shirt revealed, Jack's torso was still firm and muscular, dark hairs spreading across his chest and arrowing down toward his navel and beyond. She would have liked to stare at naked Jack in the daylight for longer, but the whole situation was unbelievably awkward and she wanted to pull the blankets over her head and hide. She could tell from the light that it was past time she was awake and heading for the bookstore to start dealing with the wreckage.

  "Man, is it ever good to see you."

  Gardner glanced from Jack to Lexie, and said, "Tell you what, JT. I'm going to go over to that coffee shop I passed on the way here, and see if they can make something that isn't too damn fancy-pants for a guy like me. I can see you and your lady have a little talking to do this morning. I'm definitely not needed for that. How about we hook up after? I'll just leave my gear here, if that's OK?"

  Jack nodded. "I know the place. Yeah. I'll catch up with you there in a little while, Gard."

  Gard touched his cap brim again, sketched a bow toward Lexie, and left. A moment later they heard his steps thudding down the stairs, and the downstairs door opened and closed.

  Lexie looked at Jack. "Well. That was awkward."

  "Gard doesn't mind."

  "Maybe I minded, though, Jack. I don't generally show men my breasts before we've been formally introduced."

  Jack sat on the edge of the bed, hip to hip with Lexie. She couldn't hold up the blanket with his weight pulling it down, so she let it go, cheeks heating again. His dark eyes glinted with amusement. "They're gorgeous breasts." He bent, kissing the upper curve of the left one.

  "Be serious."

  "I am. Gorgeous. Soft. Irresistible." Jack punctuated each word with a kiss, his mouth trekking toward the nipple. Lexie's breath caught in her throat. Jack pulled down the blanket, exposing her upper body to his gaze and mouth. "Delectable." He was kissing his way down her belly when her stomach growled.

  "And hungry," he chuckled, then groaned. "I could spend a week right here in this bed with you. But I'd better feed you before you fritter away to nothing but curls and big blue eyes."

  He levered himself up on straightened arms, still trapping her in the bed, and gazed at her. "Thank you for last night, Lexie. I know it was…I woke you up a lot."

  He didn't look away, and she blinked, wondering what was prompting his soul-deep stare. Was there something he needed to confess? She didn't understand, but with him so close against her, she was having difficulty maintaining coherent thought.

  "It was a rough night all around, I guess. Do you have a lot of nightmares?"

  "Some nights are worse than others. Listen. I don't want you to think you caused the bad dreams, or anything like that. I've just seen a lot of bad stuff in my life, and sometimes it comes back. Not alwa
ys when it's convenient." His gaze drifted to her mouth. "My God, you look good to me right now. So damn good." He gave another short laugh. "Who am I kidding. You always look good to me."

  He dropped his mouth to hers for a quick, hard kiss that lingered, softening, until her arms twined around his neck. His hand slipped down to her breast, palm cupping, thumb brushing over her nipple. She began to arch in response. But this morning she didn't want a gentleman in bed with her. Last night had been exquisite in its balance of slow burn and explosive release, but it had also broken down emotional barriers between them. She wasn't sure she could take that same intensity this morning.

  "Jack…"

  "Let me get out of these jeans again."

  "I…oh, Jack…"

  He was more than ready, and so was she, despite the responsibilities that were nagging at her. She wanted him so much she was already wet. In the light of day she was better able to see the proud—almost smug—satisfaction that spread over his face when he touched her and made her twist and writhe, helpless with pleasure, beneath him. He was bent upon pushing her to the brink and past it, over and over, until at last he slid inside her and held there, motionless.

  "Look at you," he breathed. "All sweaty and trembling and gorgeous." He pushed his hips forward so slowly that it was all she could do not to clutch his buttocks and bring him where she most desired him, where all the need in her was centered.

  Lexie shuddered, head thrown back. "You did that to me. You're making me crazy. Please, Jack—"

  "Please what?" His smile was slow and wicked.

  "Please, just—" The words that wanted to spring to her lips were dark words, dirty words, words that in Lexie's world accountants and booksellers didn't use. Yet what she craved from Jack this morning was outright bump-and-grind, the sort of no-holds-barred sex she'd never experienced in her life.

  The words shouldn't be spoken aloud, not even in this anonymous room, not even if Jack were just a traveling salesman passing through and after their coupling she'd never see him again, never have to confront her own lusty, blatant longings except in a mirror. She wanted everything she'd never have again. The mess at the bookstore could wait another hour. Lexie wanted the memory of blinding pleasure, nothing but pure carnality, no thought, no regrets, no recriminations, no judgments, no schedules or omelets or responsibilities. Something to dream about in the months to come, when Jack was gone and the nights were long and empty in Horace's little house.

  So she pulled his head down and whispered what she wanted. "Please fuck me. Ride me hard."

  And Jack, genial, friendly, literary, sexy Jack, whispered back, "You have no idea how stiff that makes me, Lexie, no idea."

  But she did, because she could feel him hardening inside her, and she folded her arms and legs around him and held on for dear life.

  It was everything she'd asked for—hard, fierce, deeper than she would have thought possible. She watched as he searched her face to be sure he wasn't hurting her. Then he took her at her word when she gasped, "Yes. Harder, Jack." He gave her exactly what she wanted and needed, ferocious thrusting pleasure until the very end, when she was limp and lost beneath him, so aroused that each stroke from his body seemed to tip her into another storm. Jack tensed and strained above her, every muscle taut and rigid, his own climax changing his face into that of a stranger. The veins and cords in his neck stood out, and he grunted something even more dark to her.

  "I love you, Lexie. Love you."

  I love you, Lexie. Love you.

  The words rang in her head, over and over. They formed the rhythm she hurried home to, having slipped out of Jack's room while he was in the shower. She knew she was a coward for sneaking away without a word, and she had no doubt he'd turn up to confront her almost immediately. She also had no doubt that by the time Jack saw her again, he'd have forgotten what he said at the height of his pleasure, if he even knew he'd said it in the first place.

  I love you, Lexie. Love you.

  At least he hadn't called her by someone else's name.

  I love you, Lexie. Love you.

  At home, she raced through a shower and pulled on tights, a loose skirt, buttoned blouse and her jacket. Today would be filled with physical labor, shelving, stacking, boxing. At noon Ben would arrive and she'd have to live through the awful story all over again, listen to him speculate about what and who and why and when. Maybe he would have facts to add to her scanty knowledge, something that could help explain what was going on.

  The words were still echoing as she let herself in the alley door. I love you, Lexie. Love you. Melville rushed to meet her, mewing frantically and twining between her ankles. She could see the dented pillow on the slippery pink sofa where he'd spent the night. She dug in her satchel for the can of wet food she'd brought, and plopped it into his dish right on top of the uneaten kibble before she even put her bag and jacket away.

  Then she walked into the store and rolled up her sleeves.

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see through the French door between Horace's Books and The Cup. Jack was, predictably, seated at a table where he could watch for her arrival. His friend Gardner sat across from him, the leg with the prosthetic stretched out as if it were more comfortable. She wondered if the man had lost his leg in Iraq, and under what circumstance. She knew the moment Jack saw her arrive. He straightened, grabbed his paper coffee cup and his computer bag, and came to the door.

  For a moment she considered ignoring him, or even putting a display in front of the door to make it clear to Jack that she needed to be alone, but she knew he wouldn't quit until he was in the store with her. She gave him a small, tense smile and held up a finger: just a minute.

  I love you, Lexie. Love you.

  He nodded. A moment later his friend was at his side, and a minute after that she opened the connecting door and let them through. Over their shoulders she saw Gilly staring after them, craning her neck to see and hear and beckoning her frantically with the hand holding a long-stemmed frothing spoon, but Lexie shook her head at the pink-haired girl and just said, "Later, Gilly."

  "I'll bet you didn't eat, did you?" Jack demanded. "You were in too much of a hurry."

  Lexie took a long, slow breath. "Look, it's going to be a tough day for me. I only let you in because trying to keep you locked out would be nothing but a pointless aggravation, but there's a lot I've got to get done. So—"

  "So I'm going back to The Cup, and I'm going to get you one of their breakfast sandwiches, and Gilly's going to make you a cup of strong tea."

  "I'll go," interrupted Gard. "I want another one of whatever this is that Mohawked gal made me."

  "That was a cafe au lait."

  "Whatever. Coffee. Whitener. No fluff." Gard turned on his heel and went back through the French door.

  "He's courteous, in kind of a backwoods way," Lexie observed.

  "He knows you ran out on me this morning. You and I have some things to work out. He's giving us space."

  "I didn't run out on you. I have this little thing called a job, and a real life, and as nice as last night—"

  "—and this morning—"

  "Sure, yes, okay, this morning too—"

  "Lexie, don't do this."

  "Do what? Jack, I—"

  "Don't go cold on me. I know we took a big step last night. I know what it meant to you. I sure as hell know what it meant to me. So don't shut me out, not now." He watched her reaction closely. He remembered all too well what he'd said at the height of his passion, cock buried deep within her. He didn't know whether she'd heard him, and if she had, whether she would hold that against him, think him just another jerk out to play her with words he didn't mean.

  He'd meant them, all right. Those words were why he'd spent so long in the shower after the morning's bonus round. Instead of giving him the time he needed to gather the strength to look her in the eye and maybe repeat those words under more rational circumstances, the long shower had merely given her the chance to dress and flee.<
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  Yeah, she'd heard him. Those little words had sent her scrambling, and now she was shoring up her walls again.

  Lexie pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and took a deep breath. Jack wanted to close the distance between them, wrap her in his arms where he could soothe away her tension, but her body language told him plainly to keep back. Last night she'd wanted comfort, distraction, and he'd been only too glad to give it. Today she was all business. All he wanted was for her to leave the door open, just a crack, let him know he was welcome in her life—hell, even just allowed to watch from the sidelines at this point, he'd settle for crumbs if he couldn't sit at the table.

  For now.

  He tried a different tack. "Gard and I are here to help. Just aim us, and we'll do it. Whatever you need. Even if that's staying out of your way, we'll do that too. But hear me: I'm not leaving you alone here today. If that FBI agent and his buddy Mr. Bad Postman come back—"

  Lexie started to laugh. It was a weary, weak laugh, but it was genuine. "Okay. Okay, Jack. I get it. You can stay, but there won't be any kissing, no catching me in a quiet aisle and having your way with me."

  It sounded like heaven, and he was hard in seconds because it was Lexie talking and her hot whisper in his ear that morning had been scorching his brain ever since, but he nodded. He walked toward his table to put his bag down, and hide the swelling in his jeans. "What do you want me to do first? Shall I take some of the butcher paper from the roll in the back and cover the windows, give us some privacy while we put the store back together?"

  She had moved to the desk, where she was noisily moving stacks of stuff from one place to another. Thump. Thud. Smack. "Horace's Books has nothing to hide. We're doing nothing wrong. Those agents knew it yesterday. They just didn't admit it. No paper on the windows. Let Main Street see this isn't going to knock us down for long. We're already standing up."