by Jen Doyle
There went the throat clearing again. They rounded the curve at the top of the hill, the house coming into full view a hundred yards down the road. “If you don’t like them, they’re easy enough to take down.”
Like them? It looked like fairies had come and blessed her house, letting it know it was still loved as it sat here. She tried not to let any emotion come through, yet her voice wavered as she whispered, “I love them.”
“Okay, good,” he said in an exhale as they pulled into the driveway. “Because it turns out they were a bitch to put up and they’re not easy enough to take down at all.”
She burst out laughing. “So much for enjoying working with your hands.”
“Well,” he said, turning the engine off. “There’s working with your hands...” His voice lowered as he reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “And then there’s working with your hands.” Letting his hand trail down her jaw, he looked up at her. “That one was totally meant as a sex thing.”
Laughing again, she pushed his hand away. “Yeah. I got that.”
She reached forward to open the door, but he grabbed her wrist. “Wait. Let me.”
“Not a date, Oxford!” she called out as he jumped out of the truck. And yet she couldn’t stop smiling as he came around the front and opened the door for her.
“Jesus,” he answered, holding her in place with his hands on her hips as he stepped in between her legs. “Let it go. I just wanted to do this.” But he was grinning, too, as he unzipped her jacket and planted his head directly on her chest.
She sincerely did not know she was capable of the shriek that came out of her. That said, she also didn’t know she was capable of giggling through a man attempting to motorboat her through three layers of clothes. “Stay still, woman,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”
“Have you now?” she said, grabbing hold of his biceps—oh, wow, how had she not fully appreciated his biceps before—and again pushing him away.
“And this,” he said softer and more seriously, moving in closer, his mouth gently coming down on hers.
Despite the laughing and teasing and even his uncertainty, there was something about the way he pulled back and gave her the strangest look. Then he put his hand at the back of her neck and guided her to him so firmly her heart began pounding hard enough to jump out of her skin. The kiss was over almost as soon as it began, and he backed away again, this time putting more distance between them.
Which was fine, she thought, as she took his hand and stepped down to the ground. Good. Because something in that kiss suggested a whole lot more than what either of them was ready for. She let go as soon as she was on solid ground, her boots crunching in the snow and ice.
She led the way up the front walk, expecting the door to open as she turned the knob. It didn’t budge. She turned to Jack, the question in her eyes.
“Oh, right,” he said, coming forward with a set of keys. “You people need to lock your doors around here.”
“It’s the middle of the countryside, and I don’t even live here yet,” she answered. “There’s nothing inside. Why would I lock it?”
“You think with that Army Ranger husband of yours, you’d have a better sense of security,” Jack grumbled, pushing the door open for her to step inside.
“Well, my Army Ranger husband didn’t want me to live out here on my own, which is why I haven’t done it before now. So don’t you start.”
He held his hands up in surrender, that grin on his face. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Mama Bear’s in the house.”
She found it annoying, how easy it was for him to make her smile. Attempting a frown, she looked around the moment they were both inside. It was warmer than she expected, so he must’ve turned on the generator when he left. She expected to see whatever it was that would have brought him back here other than the lights outside. A bucket of ice and some champagne? A bottle of wine? Whipped cream and chains? She had no idea. Just something.
Seeing nothing, however, she unzipped her jacket and shrugged it off. She wasn’t entirely sure what situations like this called for. Was she just supposed to strip? After draping her jacket over a sawhorse, she went for the button on her jeans.
“What are you doing?” he exclaimed. As if he didn’t know.
“We’re here for sex, right?” She was pretty sure they were on the same page about that. Their conversation from earlier hadn’t left a lot to interpretation. “Are we going to get on with it?”
That heated look came into his eyes, but rather than start taking his own clothes off, he cupped her jaw. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll certainly get on with it. But credit me with a little finesse.” He crouched down in front of her. “Boots first.” He lifted her ankle and untied her laces, tugging the first boot off and then doing the same to the second. He stood. “Everything else stays on.”
She raised her eyebrows. He clearly had something in mind but damned if she knew what it was. He slipped his own boots off. “Wait here for a second.”
“Why?”
“Jesus, woman.” He took a step back, exasperation clear on his face but still wearing that grin. “Do you have to question everything I do?”
What could she say? It was in her nature. She shrugged.
“Just close that mouth of yours, give me two minutes, and wait here,” he said.
She would go to her death denying that his bossiness sent a flare of heat through her. “Fine.”
After apparently waiting to make sure she would listen, he left her by the front door and went up to the second floor. She could hear him moving around and was tempted to sneak up the stairs, but she decided to let him have his time alone. She’d know soon enough what he was up to.
When he came back down, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, leaned sideways against the wall, and said, “So if I ask you to close your eyes as you go upstairs, can I trust you to actually do it? Or do I need to have you wear this?” He held up a strip of black material.
“Is that a blindfold?” She asked, trying to keep her eyes from going wide but failing miserably.
“Scared?” The twinkle was back in his eyes again.
She snatched the material out of his hand and wrapped it around her own head. “You don’t scare me, Jack Oxford.”
Although, he kind of did. Not in a physical way. He wasn’t threatening, despite being solid muscle. But even if he had been, one thing Dave had always been sure of was that his wife could defend herself. “I know how to kill you with my bare hands,” she said, which might’ve had a little bit more of an impact if she hadn’t chosen to whirl on her heel, step forward, and walk right into a sawhorse. “Motherfucker!”
His laughter barely contained, Jack took her hand. “I’m quaking in my boots.”
She gave a little snort. “You’re not wearing boots anymore.”
He ignored her. “Let’s go, Mama Bear. First step is here.” And he led her up the stairs carefully. Gently. Demonstrating the scariest part of him.
When they got to the top, he stopped behind her and she could feel his heat. “Ready?”
She nodded and stood still so he could undo the knot. The blindfold slipped away, and she looked up to see...
“Oh,” she exhaled, her hands going to her mouth. It was straight out of a movie. Because of the work he’d been doing, the second floor was completely open except for the frames of where the walls had been. Except now, threaded through the studs and wrapped around the rafters were hundreds more white Christmas lights. And scattered around the floor were clusters of candles, Thick and thin, some directly on the floor with hurricane lamps sheltering them, others set in candlesticks, their flames gently flickering. And in the middle of it all was a mattress with... “Are those Wonder Woman sheets?” she asked, giggling in surprise.
&nb
sp; “It turns out there aren’t a lot of options on a Thursday night with an hour left before closing and restocking time. His voice, light and irreverent as always, turned gruff. “But it seemed apt.”
She should have told him there was none of that. She didn’t want to be flattered or complimented—especially when he really meant it. She didn’t want to feel like he saw pieces of her no one else did, herself included. But she could feel the wall around her heart start to crack just wide enough to let him in.
So she would not say how beautiful it was. Or how touched she was he’d done this for her. And she would absolutely not give in to the temptation to say, well, okay, maybe they could date. Because even though he had also been clear on the facts of what he did and didn’t want, this suddenly felt a whole lot different than it had before. “I thought you said the horizontal surface came third,” she tried to joke. It might have sounded more emotional than she intended.
Now—now—he finally came up behind her, taking hold of her hips as he bent down to kiss her neck. “I guess I lied.”
And she was filled with such longing and need, that instead of pushing him away and running downstairs to save herself, she grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him into a ravenous kiss.
There was a rumble in his throat as he angled her head so he could go deeper. Then he walked her back slowly until she could feel the mattress against her ankles. He lowered her to the bed carefully, his weight coming over hers.
She should’ve kept the blindfold. Because here, looking up at him, his eyes so unfathomably blue, with his arms on either side of her and his legs holding her close, she realized that not only was he not the frigid Iceman, but he wasn’t distant at all.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.
To her dismay, not only did he understand exactly what she meant, but the look in his eyes became even warmer and more tender as his hand went to her hair.
“I know,” he said, “but I just can’t stop.”
She stared at him for a minute, and then...
No. She was not going to make this into more than it was. She was not going to read too much into a look or a few vague words.
“On your back, Oxford,” she said, nudging him off her. “I have some man candy to explore.”
At first he didn’t budge, and for those few seconds she was afraid he might not go along. But then he smiled and stretched out on his back, clasping his hands behind his head. “Man candy, huh?”
On her knees alongside him, she ran her hand down the center of him, stopping at the very prominent bulge in his pants. She placed her hand over him. “Right down to my own personal lollipop.” Which jerked in her hand. “Shirt off first,” she said, watching as he lifted his torso off the mattress and reached back behind him to tug off his shirt.
“Yours, too,” he said, his voice on the raspier side of hoarse. “Before I tear it off again.”
Not having twenty-two million dollars, she couldn’t afford to lose shirts regularly. Still, she took a chance and unbuttoned it slowly, enjoying the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She left her bra on, though. “Your turn. Jeans, please.”
Oh, my, she thought as he lay back down after depositing his jeans on the floor, the true beauty of his body on full display. So apparently those underwear ads weren’t airbrushed at all. Holy good Lord. She thought maybe she’d forgotten what it felt like after not having sex in so long. But, no, even with his boxer briefs still on, it was clear he really was that big.
“You keep looking at me like that and this is going to go way too fast.”
Right. “Sorry,” she said, even though she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away.
There was a hint of a smile in his voice. “No need to apologize. That’s just a statement of fact. Now your turn.”
Talk about something to take her out of her trance. She took care of her body. She ate right; did yoga, um, occasionally. She thought about Zumba quite often. But she hadn’t realized how much comfort she took in being with a man who’d loved her when she was ten and then sixteen and then thirty. A man whose children she’d carried and borne, a man who’d worshipped every single inch of her versus...this. “You do realize I’ve had four kids, right?”
His eyes never left hers even as he sat up and leaned in closer. It was a little disconcerting. “Well, then. That must be the secret ingredient, I guess,” he said. “Because I’ve never tasted or felt anything as good as you.”
His words struck a chord somewhere deep inside, a chord she thought would never be played again. That crack in the wall just kept getting bigger.
She was not going to fall for a line like that. She was not going to fall, period. But she wasn’t quite as steady as she’d hoped when she said, “Aren’t you a sweet talker?”
His surprised laugh broke the spell while at the same time confirmed how deeply in trouble she truly was. “Said no one of Jack Oxford, ever,” he answered, lying back. Because from everything she knew about him, that was absolutely true. He just confirmed it by adding, “Now take those jeans off or I’m gonna tear them off with my teeth and you’ll need to explain to those kids why you have bite marks on your ass.”
And now a startled laugh came from her. “I can assure you that at no point in time do my kids ever see my ass,” she said while taking off her jeans.
“Then doesn’t that just expand the world of opportunities.” His smile broadened.
Lola ignored the heat rising up over her chest, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way he was making her feel. Especially when he reached his hand out. “Come closer. It’s too cold over here.”
Nothing about him indicated he was cold, but she appreciated the effort. So she put aside the worries about what he was used to, how she might stack up, and all the other useless thoughts running through her head. She took his hand and did what he’d said, settling between his legs. His hard, hot, powerful legs.
“If this is all we do tonight, I’m good,” he added, running his hand up her arm. “I just like touching you.”
Oh, God, he needed to stop saying things like that. “I’d like to state for the record,” she said, “that Lola McIntire is officially declaring Jack Oxford a sweet talker.”
He smiled but it appeared he was out of wisecracks for the time being. “Only with you.”
Not okay. “I am also officially telling you talking time is over.”
That seemed to work. His eyes read challenge accepted while the rest of him settled back, except for his hand reaching up for her to pull her down into a kiss as all the words faded away. She didn’t care that this was exactly what she didn’t want, or how badly this could hurt her in the end. All she could do was lean in closer and give in to the wave that threatened to pull her under. Because there, in the soft glow of the candles and all the fairy lights, she couldn’t deny the feeling of falling through time and space, head first toward something far too close to love.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack was not a guy known for romantic gestures. He didn’t pay for sex, but his interactions came pretty darn close, whether he’d known the woman since high school or just met her in a bar that night. There were no dinner dates beforehand, no commitments or expectations, no plans whatsoever made for the next time he swung through town. It was a physical connection. He wanted a woman to feel good, but it was mostly a means to an end.
With Lola it was different. He wanted to taste every inch of her; make her writhe and moan. He wanted to kiss her—just kiss her—for an endless loop of time. And not one word he’d said to her was a lie. He didn’t know why or what it was about her, just that the reality had changed and it should have him running scared.
He wasn’t, though, because she seemed as bewildered about it as he was. Her future was settled and did not include him. His was less certain in some regards, but not in
the ways it involved her. Or her kids.
Christ, her kids.
Yet when she looked up at him with those crystal clear eyes, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere soon. He certainly wasn’t going anywhere when she ran her hand down the entire length of his very hard dick. He got up on his elbows—not the easiest to do on an air mattress, but it was worth it—because the only thing better than having a woman do the things she was about to do was to watch her doing them.
She tugged at the waistband of his boxer briefs. He lifted his hips so she could take them all the way off—which she did, pulling them down and then crawling back up and nudging herself between his legs. Even though she was cheating, he was going to let her get away with not stripping all the way down for the time being. He was more than happy with the way the bra pushed her breasts together, all that succulent skin spilling over the top of the lacy cups.
Then her mouth closed over him and he stopped giving a damn because all thinking stopped. She swirled her tongue around the tip of his erection, lapping up the bead of moisture that had escaped. Then she proceeded to do exactly as promised, with long, slow licks running up the length of him. The sight of her hair fanning over his stomach and thighs was almost as perfect as the feel of it, the ends brushing his skin like a thousand tiny feathers. He willed himself to stay up on his elbows, afraid that if he let himself go for even a second a baser instinct might take over.
Except then she looked up at him and caught him watching her. Her smile turned so wicked his balls tightened just from the sight of it. His heart began to race. Then her hand tightened around him and she stroked him from base to tip right before she took him deep, the muscles in her throat pulsing around him as she swallowed him down.
Jesus. His head dropped back and his hips surged up as he balled the sheet into his fists, but it wasn’t nearly enough. His heart was about to explode out of his chest and his lungs were on fire.
