by Kristi Gold
She stood, approached him again and held out her hand to him, palm up. “Give it here.”
Confused, Jack asked, “Give what here?”
“Your shirt.”
“I thought we were going to avoid strip poker.”
“I never said that and you owe me. I’m collecting.”
Jack came to his feet, deciding it was futile to ignore Lizzie with the mouth made for sin and the body to match. He crossed his arms, pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Happy now?”
She took a long visual excursion over his bare chest then her gaze came to rest on his fly. “Looks like the little captain is very happy.”
“Little?”
She rested a dramatic hand across her chest. “I’m sorry. Poor choice of words. Jackson Junior then. J.J. for short, figuratively speaking. I certainly wouldn’t want to insult your manhood.”
His manhood was anything but insulted. And leave it to Lizzie to name it. “No offense taken.”
When her hand headed toward his chest, Jack caught her wrist. “Lizzie, if you so much as touch me, I can’t be responsible for what I might do.”
“I’m not asking you to be responsible for anything. I’m a big girl. I’m responsible for my own actions. And right now I really want to touch you.”
“I don’t think you understand what you’re doing to me.”
“Oh, I think I do.” She wrested from his grip without difficulty, probably because he wasn’t trying that hard to stop her.
Jack stood stock-still when she breezed her palms across his chest, released a ragged breath when she tested his nipples with fine fingertips, exhaled slowly when she slid her hand down to his stomach clenched tight against the onslaught.
Again he stopped her by clasping her wrists. “We don’t need to be doing this.”
The look she gave him was laden with frustration. “Maybe I need it, Jack. Maybe I need to forget about what we might be facing. Have you considered that?”
He had only considered that she was melting his resolve, little by little. He hadn’t thought about the fact that she did have needs that he was quite capable of tending, even if he didn’t plan to tend his own.
With a forearm he cleared away the table. Matches and flashlights and cards flew in all directions like hailstones battering a sidewalk. When he came to the lantern, he was a little more careful placing it on the deck.
Lizzie’s lips parted in surprise when he lifted her onto the edge of the table and tugged her shirt over her head, tossing it onto the floor atop the debris. He parted her thighs and moved between them, knowing he had totally lost his will. Knowing that in a matter of moments he was going to do what he’d promised himself not to do.
He paused to study her delicate shoulders, the rise and fall of her breasts. He drew a path with one fingertip down the chain and lifted the dual medallions hanging at the end. “Special keepsakes?”
“Good-luck charms.”
He dropped the medallions in favor of tracing the outline of her bra. “Do they bring you luck?”
“That remains to be seen.”
Without any more thought of the consequences, without any more contemplation of the impending storm, Jack trailed kisses down her jaw and lingered at the pulse point below her right ear, then trailed a damp path to the cleft of her breasts.
He wanted more than a look, more than a touch. He wanted to know how she would sound when he tasted her. But first things first.
Reaching behind her, he snapped the bra open, worked his fingertips beneath the straps at her shoulders and slowly pulled it down her arms, hesitating before he removed it completely. “Are you sure this is what you want, Lizzie?”
“Yes, it’s what I want.”
Jack didn’t see one whit of protest in Lizzie’s eyes, only a flicker of desire. Not that Jack expected her to stop him. She had made it quite clear from the beginning that this was what she wanted, although he didn’t understand why. Analyzing her reasons was the last thing he wanted once he pulled the bra completely away and tossed it aside.
He’d seen her naked on more than one occasion but this was the first time he’d taken the opportunity to really look at her even though the limited light cast shadows on the details. Her breasts were high, round and beautiful, accented by pale tawny nipples. He would almost be satisfied just looking at them. Almost.
Jack wondered if her heart pounded as hard as his did at that moment, if she had a clue how much he wanted to touch her, to be inside her.
No longer satisfied with simply looking, he bent his head and settled his lips on one nipple. He was mildly cognizant of her hands threading through his hair, molding his scalp, pulling him closer, encouraging him to draw her deeply into his mouth. He was also vaguely aware that the wind whined at the windows and the boat’s sway had picked up speed. But the roar in Jack’s ears, the carnal haze filtering into his mind, drowned out everything but the soft sounds Lizzie was making and the feel of her against his tongue.
After paying both breasts equal attention, he slid his mouth back up the column of her throat and moved on to her lips. She opened to him and suckled his tongue as he had suckled her, driving him to the brink of madness. In a reckless rush, he pulled her hips forward and brought her to him where he could experience her bare breasts against his chest and the dampness where his mouth had been. He needed this closeness, needed to know more of her. And he knew she needed more from him, very evident when she locked her legs around the back of his thighs and clung tightly to his neck as her pelvis tilted upward against his groin.
He worked his hand between them and unsnapped her pants then tracked her zipper down. Not enough room, he realized when he could barely work his fingertips into the opening.
Somewhere in the logical recesses of his mind, he knew it would be better for Lizzie if he took her to his bed. But in his bed he wouldn’t be able to leave it at this. He intended only to satisfy her, give her what she needed despite the fact his own need was producing a mind-blowing ache that screamed to be satisfied.
Leaving her mouth, he worked her pants and panties down her legs, allowing them to slide to the deck, leaving her completely open to him. He watched her face as he slipped his fingers through the light shading between her thighs, finding her warm and wet and ready, finding her center with the pad of his thumb while he pushed one finger inside her.
She released a ragged breath and a soft whimper that he muffled with another kiss. He fondled her with slow, deliberate strokes timed with the gentle thrust of his tongue. He loved the way she felt, loved the way she responded as she lifted her hips against his hand, urging him forward.
When he felt her body quake, only then did he break the kiss to watch her. She lowered her head and closed her eyes until he lifted her chin with his free hand and said, “Look at me, Lizzie.”
Opening her eyes, she stared at him with a glazed look and a sense of wonder. Her bottom lip trembled and her breath came out in soft bursts of air.
She looked so damn beautiful at that moment and Jack realized how much he had missed this intimacy, not only over the past few months but also in a lifetime of relationships that meant very little in the grand scheme of things. Now here he was, touching a woman he had known for such a brief time, a woman who had thoroughly turned his world upside down in a matter of days.
“Jack,” Lizzie whispered, her voice wary as if she feared what was happening.
He brushed a kiss across her lips. “It’s okay, Lizzie. This is what you need.”
Lizzie was caught between wanting to let go and never wanting it to be over. Jack’s tender strokes stripped her of lucid thought, robbed her of her self-control. She relished each sensation, marveled that Jack was so skillfully sending her somewhere she had never been before with only a few measured touches in all the right places.
Her breath caught painfully in her chest when the climax came calling in strong, steady pulses, and released as the ebb and flow of fulfillment slowly subsided. Feeling
boneless, she dropped her forehead against Jack’s broad chest as she absorbed each pulse of pleasure.
But no matter how wonderful she felt, it simply wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted to know how it would feel to be thoroughly possessed by a man when she was so vulnerable and open. But not just any man. She wanted Jack, wanted to know his body. Every wonderful inch.
When she reached for his fly, he growled, “Not now. Not here.”
Here and now was exactly what she wanted. Maybe at one time she’d imagined losing her virginity in a bed covered with rose petals, not on a table in a sailboat, but she recognized this might be her last chance to find out what she’d been missing. To find out if Jack Dunlap could do justice to her fantasies though she inherently knew he could. “Yes, Jack. Here and now.”
He cuffed her wrists loosely with his large hands but she didn’t let that daunt her. She managed to work his fly open, managed to free him and realized she had been totally off the mark with the “little captain” comment. No wonder he had been so offended.
Jack braced his palms on the table on either side of Lizzie’s hips while he gave her free rein to explore the territory. She marveled at the way he felt to her inquisitive fingers, the way he looked with his jaw clenched as if he was engaged in the ultimate battle for composure. She could tell with each glide of her hand he was on the verge of losing that battle. And what absolute domination she felt knowing how close he was to tossing away his revered control. What sheer unadulterated joy having him practically putty in her hands—figuratively speaking. In reality he was power in her hands. Undeniable male power.
“I’m warning you, Lizzie.” He sounded gruff but not at all menacing.
“I’ve been sufficiently warned,” she replied. “And I want you to show me what you can do with this.” She emphasized her words by sliding a fingertip up his generous length.
Something snapped in Jack and that might have worried Lizzie had she not been in such a wanton frame of mind. He shoved his shorts and briefs down his thighs then pulled her hips closer to the edge. Lizzie leaned back and braced on her elbows, closed her eyes and waited as she felt him nudge her legs farther apart, waited for him to finally follow through.
A loud crack forced Lizzie’s eyes open, forced Jack away from her. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Jack was already putting his clothes back on.
“Where are you going?” she said to his back as he sprinted up the steps to the deck.
“Put out the lantern and stay here,” he called then disappeared from sight.
Lightning lit up the cabin in harsh flashes and Lizzie muttered a mild oath, cursing Mother Nature and her terrible timing.
After sliding off the table, she snatched up her shirt from the floor and quickly pulled it on, sans bra, then tugged on her pants and underwear with considerable difficulty due to the boat’s erratic movement.
She turned down the lantern and made her way to the steps leading topside, walking like a derelict on a four-day drinking binge. Not only was she lacking sea legs, she felt as though she had no functioning legs at all. She toyed with her medallions with one hand as she looked up to see if she could glimpse Jack. She couldn’t discern anything but the closed door.
If she went up on deck, she had no idea what she would find awaiting her. She also had to consider Hank’s safety. But what about Jack?
She couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to him. And as odd as it seemed, she couldn’t imagine not having him around, even after they survived this latest crisis.
They would survive—she knew it as surely as she knew her own heart. Maybe she was a fool to believe that once they got off this godforsaken boat, something more might exist between them. Maybe she was a bigger fool to think he might want that, too.
But she didn’t have time to take that idea out and play with it at the moment. She had to help Jack. If he didn’t return soon, she would seek him out—whether he wanted her or not.
Six
A driving deluge assaulted Jack’s face as he fought to raise the storm jib in the gusting gale. Lightning fired the sky in brief intervals; thunder echoed in his ears.
Memories assailed him as severely as the rain pelted his face. Memories of another time, another storm when he’d been fueled by adrenaline, spurred by a competitive edge, driven by danger as he laid abeam—side to the waves—even knowing he could roll over and end up mast down. Back then his goal had been to win another race, to challenge the elements like a fool.
Water slapped at the boat like cruel hands, drawing Jack back into the current predicament. He’d be damned if he would let this squall win.
After he returned aft to steer the boat, he thought his imagination was on overload when he heard the feminine voice. Then he saw Lizzie hugging the bulkhead before him, protected from the elements by only her shirt and pants, her drenched hair plastered to her face.
His name rose above the scream of the wind as she called to him, again and once again.
“Go back down,” he yelled.
She staggered forward. “I want to help.”
“You can’t! Go back below before you’re hurt.”
A riotous wave charged the bow, sending a rush of water over the deck and Lizzie forward toward the wheel. He clutched her shirt and came up empty-handed except for the gold chain she wore so closely to her heart. As Lizzie worked her way to his side, he reached for her and the necklace slipped from his grasp.
Lizzie clung to his arm and he turned her around, positioning her between himself and the wheel, framing her with his extended arms as he continued to steer into the waves. He tried to wrap the yellow slicker around her, but to no avail. The wind was too strong.
As Lizzie leaned back against him, Jack experienced an overpowering surge of protectiveness, the urgent need to keep her sheltered.
“My necklace, where did it go?” she shouted over the din.
“It’s gone.”
She laid a shaky hand against her chest. “Oh, God.”
When they got out of this mess, Jack would buy her another just like it. He would buy her a hundred. But a hundred balloons and a hundred necklaces wouldn’t benefit her if she got hurt, or worse.
He bent to her ear and said, “Lizzie, think of you and the baby. You have to go back down below.”
She shivered and turned her face up to meet his gaze. “Not without you.”
Damn her stubborn streak. “For God’s sake, there’s nothing you can do.”
“Can’t you steer the boat from inside?”
Yes, he could, exactly why he’d chosen a boat with an interior helm that provided protection during these very conditions. But he couldn’t explain to her why he needed to be outside. Why the guilt that still lived so strongly within him drove him to face the storm’s wrath head-on, as if he could somehow finally exorcise all those old demons by facing them again.
Another flash illuminated the sky, illuminated Lizzie’s eyes that held a trace of anger, something Jack had never seen before in her gaze. “Dammit, Jack, you don’t have anything to prove, at least not to me. So stop being dumb and come back inside.”
“I will when I can.”
She shoved her hair back from her face and glared at him. “Then I’ll go back in, but only for the baby’s sake. If you don’t come in soon before you die, I might have to kill you.”
With that she ducked under his arms and stepped from his side. He released one hand from the wheel and held out his arm for her to take. As she stepped back toward the bulkhead, she slowly slid her grip down until their joined hands provided the only physical connection between them. She gave him a beseeching look then let him go, leaving him alone, leaving him feeling as if she’d taken a fundamental part of his soul with her.
After struggling awhile longer, Jack made a decision. If he continued this useless battle with the forces of nature, he could put himself in further peril. He had no doubt that with her good luck and common sense, Lizzie could probably find a way
to survive without him. But he was beginning to wonder about his own survival without her. He didn’t care to acknowledge those emotions, didn’t care to leave himself vulnerable to her. But he also realized he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her to fend for herself.
For Lizzie, he would concede to the storm’s fury and return inside. Return to the woman who was beginning to mean more to him than she should—and that in itself posed a danger of a different kind.
Lizzie didn’t bother to change out of her rain-soaked clothes before she curled into a corner of the sofa, clutching a pillow to her chest. She didn’t want to be comfortable knowing that Jack was outside braving the weather while she helplessly waited for his return.
The boat jarred and swayed, pitched and moaned in the wicked claws of the storm. She kept her eyes closed and silently prayed, feeling bereft because of the loss of her treasured necklace as well as the loss of Jack’s presence. What would she do if she really lost him?
No. She wouldn’t invite that possibility into her world. Jack was the consummate sailor. He knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her if he could help it. But could he help it? Even with all his skill, would he be an equal match to the storm? And why was he so bent on playing the tough guy when it didn’t have to be that way? She suspected it had very much to do with the reasons why he had taken himself out of life in general, taken to the sea to immerse himself in his coveted solitude.
Lizzie had to believe that he would come to his senses. If not, she had to believe that her angels did exist and that they were watching over Jack now. If she didn’t, then she would truly be afraid…and alone.
After a time, the boat seemed to settle to a tempered rocking instead of an unpredictable thrashing. The lightning came infrequently now and the whistle of wind seemed somehow quieter. Or maybe she was only fooling herself into believing the storm was moving on.
