by Caro LaFever
Love.
“Jessie.” His one word ached. Ached with powerful regret and endless hope. His heart ached, too. For this woman who was so fearless in her giving and could be so easily hurt if he allowed it.
He wasn’t going to allow her to be hurt.
Not if he had to scour the entire universe for that damn contract her father had hidden away somewhere. His own copy was safe—sealed in a vault in a Las Vegas bank only he had the code for. But the other copy? He needed to talk to her father about that.
“What, cowboy?” She smiled at him, as he climbed the last of the stairs. “Have you run out of breath so you can’t say anything?”
“Ha.” Marching into the attic bedroom, he threw her on the king-size bed. “You’ll regret that accusation.”
She yelped as she sailed through the air, laughing when she hit the bed. “Will I? Somehow, I don’t think so.”
Throwing away his doubts and demons, he yanked his T-shirt off. His smile bloomed at the expression on her face. “Good?”
“As if you have to ask.” She snorted. “Cocky bastard.”
His hand drifted across the front of his jeans. “I admit to having a cock, except I have to say, I’m not a bastard. I suppose we can meet my pa, if you want to check on that.”
She pushed herself onto her elbows, her gaze growing alert. “Meeting the parents, huh?”
“I’ve met yours.” Not wanting to think what the hell his father would say to her, he teased the first snap open and jutted his hips toward her. “But I don’t think that’s what we should be focusing on.”
Happily, the intelligence in her eyes dimmed with lust when her gaze dropped to his hips. His erection was plain to see and ached with need.
“Come here,” she demanded.
Loving her demand, he sauntered to the edge of the bed and grinned when she scrambled across the bed to his side. His hand idly played with her hair, pulling out the tie, letting the fire of her glory slide through his willing fingers.
Her fingers went to work, too. Within seconds, she’d stripped him of his jeans and boxers, stroking his heat with her cool touch.
“Jesús.” Throwing his head back, Nick groaned. “Much more of that, and this is going to be all over before you know it.”
“No, no. I have utter confidence in your control,” she murmured as she kept touching him.
His eyes closed and he let himself luxuriate in the sensation of Jessie taking care of him. Her caresses on his cock were sure and confident, surprising him and at the same time making him horny as hell. Fluttering fingers brushed the length of him to alight on the tip, encircling it between her thumb and forefinger, and pumping along the ridge.
A grunt of pure delight came from deep in his gut.
“I’m assuming that means I’m doing this right,” she said.
Eyes popping open, he looked down at the top of her head. Because of the fall of her hair, he only saw a portion of her forehead. But that was enough to catch the frown of concentration on her brow. “Hey.”
She glanced up at him and her mouth pursed. “I want to do this right.”
“Jessie.” He grabbed her hand and tugged it away from him. Pulling her up, he encircled her with his embrace. It was a stunning contrast. The softness of her T-shirt and roughness of her jeans against the line of his naked body. Yet, it was exactly what he needed, what he’d known. She was right for him, like the perfect saddle on a stallion, or the exact shade of blue in the Nevada summer sky when he took a drive on his motorcycle. “Whatever you do is right for me.”
Her head nestled into the notch between his shoulder and neck. “I hope so.”
“I know so.” Running his fingers through her hair again, he let his other hand fall to her waist to slip under the cotton to her skin. “I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here, Ginger Snap.”
She nuzzled him, not meeting his gaze, not moving to undress to match him.
It suddenly struck him she might be nervous about showing herself to him. He’d seen her lack of confidence in those little moments when she’d shown her true self. The way she’d initially reacted to the red dress when he’d picked it out. The way she eyed him when he complimented her hair. The way she stood now, still and taut in his arms. This was out of his experience. The women he’d been with sexually before had always been confident in their bodies and sexual draw.
The realization made him rather anxious, himself. His hand smoothed across her covered back, trying to think of what to do or say to ease them both into the bed. “Maybe—”
“Nick,” she mumbled into his nakedness. “I’m worried.”
“Oh?” Perhaps that was better than being scared, though not by much. What the hell was he supposed to say in this situation? His entire sexual experience had been with experienced women. Women who knew the score and his agenda. Women who usually had an agenda themselves.
But Jessie?
Jessie didn’t know the score or his agenda. And she didn’t strike him as a woman who’d ever had an agenda when she went to bed with a man.
The ache inside him—a mixture of love and lust and regret and worry—churned.
“Here’s the thing.” Her lips and words moved on his skin, making him hot and horny as well as worried himself about what this thing was. His cock screamed for release, and his brain rumbled that he might be on his way to unlucky tonight.
“The thing?” He stared blankly at the terrace door and the sunset gilding the cast-iron railing with a golden glow. The glow reminded him of her eyes downstairs, and how desperately he wanted to stare into the gold when he took her body with his. “What thing?”
Finally, his courageous girl lifted her head to meet his scowl. She chuckled and her expression softened. “Don’t worry, I’m not changing my mind.”
His cock howled its approval, but the slight tightness around her mouth told him there was still trouble. “I want this to be good for both of us.”
“I know you do.” Her hand brushed across his chest, making his nipples tingle and his breath catch once more. “That’s the kind of guy you are.”
She had no real idea what kind of guy he was, and when she eventually found out—hell, even when he located that contract and hid it from her, she’d eventually find the ugliness residing inside him. Still, he was enough of a gambler to take the chance on a roll with Jessie. A roll in this bed. A roll into marriage. A roll into hoping he could keep her happy forever.
He’d take that. With both hands. And his ugly heart and past.
Her gaze dropped to his chest and her fingers came back to his nipples to play.
“This isn’t fair,” he grumbled. “I want to see you, too.”
A ragged sigh came from her. “I’m not pretty.”
There it was. The thing. The problem he’d correctly guessed was the issue. “No, you’re not.”
Her head jerked up, her face growing pale.
“You’re not, Jessie. Not at all.” His words shot out of his mouth like they had when he’d been young. Too young and foolish to know that speaking what you thought before carefully culling away any truth wasn’t the best way to survive. “You’re far from pretty.”
“Gee, thanks.” Her spine straightened, and her hands fisted on his chest.
He tightened his grip on her. “What you are is magnificent.”
“What?” Wary blue-brown-green eyes met his.
“Like a fiery queen. Like a goddess come down to Earth to be with me, a mere mortal.” The words were florid and stupid and things he’d never imagined himself saying.
But they were sincere.
All coming directly from his aching heart and needy cock.
She stilled, her eyes shadowed with doubt. “Really?” she whispered.
“Sí, realmente,” he whispered back, his hard, cold defenses crumbling in front of her pure demand for all of him. “Te quiero más que nada en la vida.”
I want you more than anything in life.
Trembling, he let the words sink
into him, grateful he’d slipped into Spanish instead of exposing himself. Grateful she didn’t understand what he meant.
But then, the woman eased her head back and her eyes went clear, like she saw straight through him to the depths. The intensity of the blazing look shot into him like a fierce dart of daring challenge. She wanted everything, this woman. Everything, including the ugly and wretched piece of him he kept well hidden.
Dios joder al infierno.
The depths of him was not what he wanted exposed.
Especially to Jessie.
Chapter 20
As expected, Nick Townsend was gorgeous when he was naked.
Take a girl’s breath away, let her heart skip a beat, make a woman think of hot sex during a long night—gorgeous.
Expected. Not a surprise.
Jess wanted to howl with laughter at herself, but then he’d think she was even more foolish.
How had she ended up like this? How did she find herself standing in a bedroom from out-of-time, with a man made for the modern world, and feel as if she fit completely into this experience? As if she were born to be here at this moment.
He was speaking Spanish to her in his lightly accented voice. The words rolled out of him, and she didn’t need to know what they meant. All she had to do was look into his eyes to know.
He was telling her he wanted her. Only her.
She saw it in the blueness of his frank gaze, and the way he touched her so tenderly, like she was precious.
He thought of her as a queen.
Not a girl who wasn’t a boy, as her father had wanted. Not a quiet nerd the college coeds could ignore unless they wanted something from her. Not a money-pot ripe for the plucking.
A goddess.
“Oh.” The tiny word escaped her, along with the last remnant of her heart.
For a moment, he stared at her, a bewildered, hungry look that made her want to cry and take him into her at the same time. But then, his real smile eased onto his lips and turned into a grin. “That’s all you have to say? Oh?”
“It seemed appropriate,” she muttered.
“Appropriate.” He glanced at her body, still fully dressed, and then to himself, fully naked. “I don’t think this is anywhere near appropriate.”
A gurgle of laughter rippled out of her when he shot her a teasing look. She’d never laughed with a lover before. Sex had always been a serious endeavor for her, something she approached rather like she came at a McDowell crisis. A woman had to focus on the man’s pleasure, she’d read in several books she’d researched. A woman needed to concentrate so the experience would be good for both of them.
Sex wasn’t about laughing.
Was it?
“Jessie, mi reina, you are relaxed, sí?” His palms swept up and down her back, bringing her closer to him. “You are laughing, so you must be relaxed.”
“I don’t know about that,” she huffed into the part of him, between his neck and shoulder, that was fast becoming her favorite place.
The scent of him permeated the air. A spicy, musky smell that made her think of heated sex and humid nights. Curious, she touched his skin with her tongue and he tasted even better. Like the hot buttered rum her dad drank whenever they visited the Boston McDowell hotel. Smooth liquid gold with just the right snip of cinnamon and clove.
“Me está conduciendo loco,” he groaned. His hips bumped on hers, telling her more than his words did that he was going insane.
The realization made her flush with pride. Time to stop dithering. This man honestly did think she was more than pretty. And he deserved to be rewarded for that amazing gift. Stepping out of his arms, she took in a deep breath and pulled her T-shirt off. Before she had second thoughts, she unzipped her jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off.
Jess hadn’t ever thought of bras and panties as anything more than underwear. She bought nice pieces because she had the money, but she didn’t spend hours and hours going through catalogues and websites.
By the look on Nick’s face, perhaps she needed to rethink that strategy. Because if he ogled her like this, when she wore a plain white bra and blue cotton panties, maybe if she splurged on lace and satin, she might get an even better reaction.
“Dios mío.” One of his fingers rose to trace the line of her bra on her breasts, barely touching her skin. And yet, the simple touch produced a rush of goosebumps on her arms and legs.
His lush brows furrowed. “You’re cold. Let’s get in bed.”
Before she could tell him what was really going on, he stepped past her and brushed the sheet and duvet aside. “Get in.”
“Demanding.” Her gaze fell to his excellent, distracting ass. With that kind of ass, the man could get away with demanding on occasion. Several occasions, actually.
Swinging his head around, he grinned once more. A flash of beauty tipped with sin. “Just wait until you’re underneath me. Then you’ll see what demanding really is.”
“Big talker.” She pretended to be nonchalant, but a shiver of anticipation, as well as anxiety, went through her.
God, she had to make this good for him.
His hand came around her waist and he pushed her, slowly and softly, unto the mattress. Climbing over her, he smiled before pulling the covers to their waists. “Don’t worry, Jessie.”
“I’m not,” she claimed.
A male grunt of disbelief was his only response. His gaze drifted from her frowning face to her neck. “I’m going to start here.”
“Are you—?”
Her calm words were cut off by a gasp when he swooped and sucked. The touch of his mouth was wet and succulent, like the ripe caress of a plum sweeping across the lips. His tongue danced along her delicate bones and fine hairs, making her gasp again at the sensation.
“Me encanta su cuello,” he murmured on her skin.
“What does that mean?” If she was going to do this right, she needed to keep her wits about her. Maybe focusing on his Spanish would help.
“I love your neck.” His hand drifted, rifling into her hair. “From the moment I met you, I’ve been enchanted by it.”
“My neck?” she croaked. Didn’t men usually focus on breasts—which she had little of—and asses—which she also had little of?
“Your neck,” he said, “is elegant and proud. And now that I’m close enough, I see it’s creamy with little dainty dots of brown hiding here and there.”
“Dots of brown?” Jess stared up at the chandelier and wondered when he’d gone mad. “That’s pretty?”
Rearing up, he glared at her, a mocking tease. “Didn’t I tell you that you’re not pretty?”
“Yes.”
“Then remember that, woman.” He dived back into sucking on her skin. “This neck has nothing to do with pretty. What a paltry word for such an excellent work of art.”
A work of art? Her?
Gulping in an inappropriate laugh, she tried to focus her fuzzy mind past the lust and onto what he was doing.
“Are you going to give me a hickey?” She wondered what it would be like to have a hickey. When she’d been a teenager, she’d been secretly jealous of the girls with hickeys. It was a clear statement that some guy wanted them.
She’d always wanted to be wanted.
His chuckle rumbled through her and into her heart. “Do you want one, Ginger Snap?”
She gulped again. This was getting away from her, this situation. This leading-up-to sex. The humor and lightness of his response to her was so different than her other experiences, it confused her.
“Do you?” His words brushed her skin with a warm beckoning.
“I think so.”
Her admission was tentative and hesitant, even to her own ears. Closing her eyes, she realized her whole body had tensed along his, and knowing Nick, he was aware.
What would he say?
What would he do?
He didn’t say anything, but he definitely did something. He sucked. Hard. Right in the crook of her neck. The sens
ation of being taken ran through her like a storm, her body arching and her head going back on the pillow.
Humming, he let her go, licking the spot where he’d surely left his mark.
Vaguely, Jess thought she should probably take some initiative, here. Kiss him and touch him. Distract him.
Instead, he foiled her plans once more, by tilting across her body and sucking on the other side.
“Two?” Her hands came up to grab his naked shoulders, not exactly pushing him away, but not being sure either.
“Dos,” he confirmed in his husky accent. “This neck deserves double the tribute.”
He sucked again, and she arched again, too. And then he slid his hand under the top of her bra and tweaked her nipple. A simple move other boyfriends had done in the past.
A whimper she couldn’t control erupted from her throat, because Nick’s touch was nothing like any other man’s in her experience.
“You enjoy that,” he crooned on her neck. “Let’s take this off, shall we?”
Obediently, she moved when he tugged at her bra, and then, he tugged some more, and she was naked. After that, her brain shut down, and all she knew was the sensations of his hands on her hips and ass, his sweaty back on her palms, his kisses on her eyes and nose and mouth.
“I’m not thinking straight,” she whispered, wondering where her focus went, and how she could possibly find it once more.
His gaze caught hers and he smiled, a gentle, knowing expression crossing his face. “It’s okay to let go and not think at all. It’s okay to let me give you pleasure.”
A smidgeon of her brain came back online. She frowned. “I’m supposed to give you pleasure.”
“Really?” The celestial blue twinkled like a thousand stars suddenly came to life in his eyes. “Who told you that?”
“I read it in a book.”
His eyes widened, and she realized with chagrin how awful and stupid she sounded. A flush of heated embarrassment flooded her face—she bet he’d feel the heat of it. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She was going to be calm and casual. A partner in this love dance, not a foolish woman who didn’t know what she was doing. “Shit.”
