by Katy Connor
I baked like a crazed woman, creating all sorts of citrus and nut flavored desserts. Lemon meringue pies. Key lime pies. Lemon lava cakes. Citrus gateaus. I made grapefruit sorbet and tangerine mousse, and experimented with chestnut ice cream, pecan pies, chocolate almond biscotti, and pralines.
Can you blame me?
Jack left me with a permanent craving for his taste. I had no choice but to recreate the flavor and scent of him in the best way I knew how. Now the fridges were filled to capacity with a new array of De Lucas’ desserts.
But the dessert that went down the best, the one that we sold out of every night, was the orange and pistachio syrup cake that debuted on the menu the Monday after Bec’s party.
The next Sunday night, I pushed open the door to the Resus Bar, glad to get out of the snow and icy wind, and scanned the crowded room for my friend. She’d called to tell me to meet her there. The light was dim, making it hard to see clearly, but it seemed she was running late. I stopped at the bar to place an order for a glass of Chianti from Gus, the owner, then made my way to the back corner, to the only empty booth. As usual, the place was packed.
Didn’t matter that it was past midnight. There was always time to squeeze in a drink before heading home after work. Located across the road from the hospital, Resus was a popular hang out for All Saints personnel. It was a popular hang-out for me, too. A block away from De Lucas, I went there often after the restaurant closed.
I removed my jacket and shook the snow from my hair. It smelled like a giant pizza. Not unusual, considering the number of pies coming out of our wood-fired oven.
Gus was on a roll tonight. Faster than usual. My hair had just settled back into place when a glass of wine appeared on the table in front of me. I took a grateful sip before looking up to thank him.
Instead of the regular chambray shirt, bearded cheeks, and friendly smile Gus sported, there was a smart button-up, a day or two worth of stubble, and serious brown eyes looking down at me. Brown eyes that, a week back, had looked at me with fire in their depths. They’d gleamed and sparked throughout much of the night we’d spent together.
My heart jumped into my throat. “Jack.”
“Isabella.”
“Taken up bartending?”
“Helping out. Gus was busy.”
“Thank you for my drink.”
“You’re welcome.”
Here he stood, the real-life manifestation of my new favorite fantasy, and I had no idea what to say to him.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Be my guest.” My heart fluttered like crazy.
He shuffled into the booth, set his scotch on the table, and sat too far away for my liking. Gone was that teasing glint in his beautiful brown eyes. In its place was a somberness I hadn’t seen before.
“Glad to see you’re dressed for winter tonight.” He wore a pair of khakis that hugged his thighs just right.
“I came directly from work.”
“Thought you liked to swim after every shift?”
“I do and was going to…until Rebecca told me she was meeting you.”
“And then you decided to skip your swim?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“So I could see you again.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You’re very welcome to join Bec and me.”
“Rebecca isn’t coming.” He spoke with an intensity that hadn’t been there last week.
“She wouldn’t stand me up.” Not without letting me know, anyway.
“I asked her not to come.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“I needed time alone with you.”
“And Bec agreed to that?”
He regarded me with a troubled brown gaze. The Jack sitting beside me was nothing like the one I’d met a week ago. That Jack had been funny, witty, sexy. Seductive. This one seemed…distracted. “She did.”
Of course she did. She knew Jack had rocked my world. She’d have only been too delighted to send him here in her place.
I lowered my voice. “You looking to hook up again?” I hoped so. Although I seriously doubted it. No one who looked as apprehensive as he did was looking for a little fun.
He frowned and shook his head.
Well, shoot. “Then why are you here?”
“I, uh, I tried not to come.” He brushed a hand over his mouth. “Told myself to stay away from you.”
“Uh…” How did one respond to that?
“But I couldn’t.” He looked tormented. “I had to see you.”
My stomach twisted. “I don’t understand.”
He made to take my hand, must have thought better of it, and grasped his drink instead. “I like you, Bella. More than I ever expected to.”
“I like you, too, Jack.” Well, I’d liked the Jack from last week. This one perplexed me. I was getting a strong impression he liked me…against his better judgment.
“I didn’t think I would. Or could.” Conflict warred in his eyes. “But damn, I do.”
Talk about a backhanded compliment. “And that’s a problem?”
“It’s…unexpected.”
What was so terrible about liking me? “Rebecca predicted you’d like me. How unexpected can it be?”
“Enough to leave me floundering.”
The same heart that had fluttered in excitement minutes before now felt heavy as lead. “Look, no one asked you to see me again. If you don’t want to be here, leave.”
“That’s just the thing. I do want to be here.”
“Yeah. I can see that.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.
This time when he reached for my hand, he took it. “Last week, you blew my mind.”
Not even close to as much as he’d blown my mind. “This week, though, not so much, huh?”
His dimple flashed, although he didn’t smile. “I’m hard as a rock. You’re still pretty much blowing my mind.”
“So let me get this straight. You come see me, against your better judgment. I turn you on, but you’re not interested in another hookup. You like me, but the very idea torments you. Am I on track so far?”
He looked miserable.
“I see.” I stood, pretending he wasn’t shattering my heart. “Goodbye, Dr. Scott. Thanks for dropping in, but I think I’ll be going now.”
He tugged on my hand. “God, Bella. Don’t. Please.”
“I should rather stay and hear how conflicted you are about me?”
“I’m not conflicted about you. I’m conflicted about me.”
I frowned, confused. “That makes perfect sense.” Not.
“Please, sit. Talk to me.”
“I prefer not to be where I’m not wanted.”
“You’re wanted.” His voice was hoarse. “I want you. Have wanted you from the beginning. Still do.”
I sat but extricated my hand from his. “So why are you so reluctant?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to offer me?”
He looked at me, his gaze filled with grief. “There are things you don’t know about me. Reasons I can’t be with you.”
“So tell me.” I gentled my tone. “Help me understand.” I wanted to know more about Jack. I wanted to know everything about him.
“Last week, our hookup… It was…easy. It was sex, nothing more.”
Ouch. It had been a lot more to me. The most intense physical connection of my life.
“I can do sex,” he said. “I can do easy. I can’t do…more.”
I wanted to respond but couldn’t. My lips were stiff, my muscles rigid.
“Hooking up once is physical. Needing to see you again is…emotional.”
“Right, and let me guess. You don’t do emotion?”
“I can’t.” There it was again. The torment and devastation. And this time he didn’t try to hide it. He looked at me with eyes so tortured, my heart constricted. “I did, before, and vowed never again.”
“I don’t u
nderstand.”
“I’ve been through…shit, Bella. Serious shit.” He squeezed his eyes shut, then looked at me, miserable. “The kind of shit I never want to go through again.”
The hurt was evident in his expression—I knew something bad must have gone down for him to show so much misery. “And seeing me again, what? Makes you vulnerable to that same shit?” I wanted to tell him it was just sex between us, but I’d be lying. I’d felt something for him, and it had been more than just desire or satisfaction. He’d flayed me wide open in my kitchen.
He was flaying me wide open now with his ambivalence.
“Seeing you turns me inside out.” He leaned in, inhaling deeply, as though breathing in my scent. “You’re intoxicating. Addictive.”
For a second, I froze. This Jack might be distressed. He might be fighting his emotions for me, but he was still Jack. My body responded to him as it had last week. It came to life in a rush of heat. I ached to feel his bare skin against mine, his lips trailing over my neck, my breasts. His hands on my hips. His cock…
I ached…for him. And it seemed he ached for me.
But I wasn’t interested in someone who wanted me against his will.
I tried to push the hurt away. “You make me sound like an illegal drug.”
He grabbed my hand. “I loved fucking you.” The heat in his eyes was a clear reflection of his words. “Loved sinking into your body, losing myself in your heat.”
Yeah, I’d gotten that, given the number of times he’d come in my apartment. I’d loved it, too. What I didn’t get was why he’d be so bewildered by our connection.
He stared at me, frowning, then nodded, as though confirming something he’d been thinking, but couldn’t quite believe. “I liked talking to you, too. Getting to know you.”
“A lot of people do. But most of them don’t seem to resent it afterward, though.”
He pulled on my finger, tugging, massaging. “If you knew how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about your hands down your pants… My dick in your mouth…” He broke off. Cleared his throat. “…Thinking about you coming all over my cock. Jesus, you’re making me crazy.” He looked at me with confused despair and unreserved desire.
I melted inside as I bristled outwardly. His words made every part of me tingle. But his ambivalence cut deep. It was obvious something in his past had caused him a huge amount of pain. It was also obvious he was conflicted. But he was conflicted about me. And that…well, that hurt. “I’m sorry wanting and liking me burns. It’s obvious you’d rather feel neither.”
“You burn me, Bella. Sear me all the way down to my soul. But you also scare me.”
I shook my head at him. “Either you like me or you don’t. But don’t go feeding me bullshit about not wanting to get hurt again or that you can’t like me.” I tried to pull my hand away, but he held tight.
“It’s not about not wanting to like you.” His voice was hoarse. “I’d thought myself incapable.”
He swiped his hand over his mouth again, and the resultant rasp of flesh against stubble sent shivers down my spine.
I leaned in close, not wanting him to see how much his doubt pierced my soul. “Your regard for me is heartwarming.”
Jack kissed me, catching me off guard. But when his hot, wet tongue swept into my mouth, stroking mine, tasting of scotch and lemon and pistachios, my senses came back to me in a rush.
I wasn’t interested in his uncertainty.
I did the only thing I could: bit down hard on all that hot, velvety goodness, wanting to hurt him.
Instead of pulling back like I’d assumed he would, Jack growled low in his throat and deepened the contact, cupping the back of my head and molding his lips to mine.
His mouth was an object of mass destruction. It drove past my defenses, smashing every one of my objections. He kissed me until I moaned softly and kissed him back, suddenly ravenous for more than this tempting taste of him. He kissed me until my body softened against his, and I surrendered to his skill and seduction.
And when he finally drew away by a mere inch, as though reluctant to part any farther, I sighed sadly. “I hate that you don’t want to like me.”
He shook his head. “Not that I don’t want to. Thought I couldn’t. Never thought I’d fall for anyone again.” Our heavy breaths mingled together, heating my face.
And just like that, my irritation dissipated. “Y-you’ve fallen for me?”
“Can’t get enough of you.”
He kissed me again, and when he released my lips, I smiled dreamily.
He’d fallen for me.
“You’ve become my new favorite fantasy, Dr. Scott. I may have masturbated to thoughts of you a time or two as well.”
He growled low in his throat, tilting my head so he could look me in the eye. “A time or two?”
“Every night in bed. And in the shower.” And up against the kitchen counter, in the exact spot where he’d fucked me stupid.
“Jesus.” His eyes snapped shut, and a look of agony flashed across his face.
I couldn’t help myself. Hidden from sight by the tabletop, I put my hand on his thigh. Let that hand creep up his leg, my actions camouflaged by the shadows of the darkened pub.
He grabbed my hand and pressed it flat over his groin.
He was hard. Rock solid beneath my hand.
“You’re killing me, Bella.”
I rubbed him, stroking the length of his erection over his pants and under his hand.
It was enough to elicit a strangled moan from him.
That moan did me in. I was a wild woman again, crazed for the feel of him. I kissed him this time, exploring his mouth, stroking his tongue with mine, teasing, withdrawing, encouraging him to follow, until he was kissing me. Licking into my mouth, devouring me with his passion.
Suddenly it wasn’t my hand on his groin. His palm cupped my pussy outside of my yoga pants, rubbing against my clit.
I tore my mouth from his, panting, and let my gaze streak over the bar, scrutinizing anyone whose attention we might have caught with our carnal kisses.
No one gave us a second glance.
Thank God, because Jack’s hand was on the inside of my pants now, sliding under my panties. I know it’s stupid, but the instant he stroked over my clit, I felt like he’d come home. The feel of him touching me was familiar, powerful. It was…right.
And it was hot. Like, blow a gasket hot.
I could have come right there. Almost did—if Jack hadn’t growled through gritted teeth. “Don’t come.”
I clenched my fists, scrunched my eyes together, and willed my orgasm back. I was a gasping wreck by the time I opened my eyes, but I was in control again. Well, I wasn’t about to explode, anyway.
The glitter in his eyes and his probing fingers almost did me in a second time.
His hand edged lower, so his palm rubbed my clit, while his finger swiped at my sodden folds. Again, the tightness of my pants restricted his movements, but the Lycra allowed for more stretch than my jeans had, and Jack used the elasticity to his full advantage, tormenting me with his skilled touch.
“W-we shouldn’t do this. Anyone might…s-spot us.”
“You’re right,” he agreed sinfully. “One look in our direction, and we’re busted.”
“B-better stop.” It was the last thing I wanted, but the rational choice.
“You sure?”
I nodded, anything but.
A corner of Jack’s mouth lifted in a challenging smile, but he slid his hand out of my pants…and I almost cried out of frustration.
Then I almost came spontaneously as he raised his now-glistening fingers to his mouth—and licked them clean. “Delicious.”
I grabbed his hand and shoved it into my pants again.
My sigh of bliss made him chuckle. A smug, self-satisfied laugh if ever I heard one. I ignored his dimple to cast another surreptitious glance around the bar. A couple of familiar faces stood across the room, but no one paid us attention.
Jack’s mouth was at my ear. “Having trouble deciding what you want tonight?”
Damn the man. “I wouldn’t be so indecisive if you weren’t so reluctant to be here.”
“I want to be here, Bella. Make no mistake about that.” His eyes were hot, fire burning in them.
He caressed me, probed at my slit. Made me wet enough I feared I might slide off the bench.
“You just don’t want any emotional entanglements.”
His face shut down. His hand stilled. A muscle ticked in his cheek. Then the fire was back. “I want you. Need you.”
I thrust against his hand. “Then make me come.” No one had spotted us. Yet. It was only a matter of time until someone did.
“Getting grumpy, Isabella?”
“Getting frustrated.” I thrust against him again, to no avail. He wouldn’t move his damn hand.
“Remember, it’s all about the anticipation.”
“Fuck anticipation. That’s a sucky theory.”
I couldn’t help my third furtive glance around the bar. If someone had looked at us a second too long, they’d have had no doubt what we were doing. No one did.
I grabbed his hand over my pants, moved it.
He laughed that smug laugh and let me. An inch or two. No more.
I slapped his hand, moved it again, and this time he stroked me. Made me half crazy.
I let my head slump against the back of the bench. “Another scenario to add to my masturbation fantasies.” I groaned.
So did Jack. And he dipped a finger inside me.
I looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’m gonna touch myself later and think about this.”
A drop of sweat beaded on his temple. He fucked me deeper, adding another finger.
I let my hand drop away, giving him the freedom to touch me at will. “Gonna sit on my kitchen counter, and play with myself, just like you’re playing with me now.”
The muscles in his neck tightened. So did mine.
Our time was running out. Any minute, someone would walk past us or turn in our direction.
He stroked into me, and I opened my legs wider, letting him in deeper, until he hit that spot.
I swear, I moaned loud enough that half the bar would have heard me—if Jack hadn’t caught the sound with his mouth. He kissed me as he fucked me, consuming my senses completely. There was nothing but Jack, his plunging fingers, his decadent mouth, his citrusy scent. My urgency increased.
