by Bella Andre
One night. Couldn’t she have one night to take a break from the confusion, from the doubts?
Maybe it wasn’t fair to ask Jack to give her that when he was already giving her everything else, but Mary had never felt this safe, this cherished, with anyone else.
Letting the sheets fall away, she put her hand on his chest, his pectoral muscles jumping beneath her palm and fingertips as she slid them up to caress the beautifully masculine planes of his jaw and chin. Desire had been sated just minutes ago and, still, as she leaned forward to press her mouth to his, the sparks flew again, even hotter and higher this time.
Because she now knew exactly how good making love with Jack was, it sent her hunger for him spiking once more. But even as she tried to focus on the physical, she knew there was one important reason she so desperately needed to make love with him again.
Mary had been called beautiful a thousand times in her life, but no one had ever actually treated her as if she was special and beautiful. With every brush of his skin against hers, with the heat from his dark eyes that watched her so carefully every single moment to make sure she was happy, Jack only cared about her.
And she knew in her heart of hearts that he would never do anything to hurt her. Both of them rose to their knees on the bed, and as he moved his hands to her hips to pull her flush against him, she loved how hard every inch of him was. Already, she was addicted to the delicious scratch of hair from his chest and legs against her smooth skin, the burn from the dark shadow on his jaw as he ran kisses all across her face and neck and shoulders and breasts.
She’d been amazed by the way he’d held on to his patience as he’d stripped her earlier, taking her from peak to peak while keeping the reins on his own needs. She’d never, ever forget the beauty he’d shown her, how gentle he’d been even as he drove her toward utter madness.
But as renewed passion wrapped around them like a velvet ribbon tying them together, the ravenous need that grew bigger and stronger with every moment they spent in each other’s arms took the place of patience and self-control. And as they fell back onto the bed, tangled in each other, Mary didn’t have a prayer of keeping up with Jack’s hands, with his mouth, with the demands he made of her pleasure.
Breathless as he found her sweetest spots again, needing to give him just as much, they tumbled so that she could rove her own hands and mouth across his hard, heated body.
And then he was gripping her by the waist and pulling her up over him, coming into her again in one hard thrust. Capturing her mouth with his, with low growls of pleasure rumbling from his chest to hers, from one heartbeat to the next, they drove each other higher.
Giving. Taking. Sharing.
Loving.
And as Mary shattered into a thousand beautiful pieces in Jack’s arms, everything she’d tried to trap inside for so long, all of the emotions she’d been so afraid to feel, finally burst free.
Chapter Thirteen
Mary woke to the warmth of sunlight streaming over her skin. Surprisingly bright winters were one of the things she loved about San Francisco, especially when she could easily find snow within hours of the city by heading to the mountains surrounding Lake Tahoe.
This morning, however, the sunlight wasn’t the only reason she was warm. Jack was wrapped around her, his front pressed to her back, his legs curled into hers.
A sudden flash of terror at just how much of herself she’d given him the night before threatened to send her heart racing. And yet, nothing felt the slightest bit wrong about the way she was holding one of Jack’s hands to her chest, his other hand tangled in her hair, while the warmth of his breath tickled the sensitive skin on the back of her neck. In fact, it was true that nothing had ever felt so right as waking up in bed wrapped in Jack’s arms as if she were a precious gift he couldn’t bear to part with.
His breathing remained even, but his fingers began to slide, feather-light, over her skin. Had he been waiting for her to wake so that they could continue their sensual adventure into a new day?
He’d been completely straightforward on her doorstep in telling her that one night wouldn’t be enough for him, and maybe it was sending the wrong message to let one night turn so quickly into more.
But how could any woman on the planet resist Jack Sullivan?
The lightest flick of his tongue over her neck sent a shiver running through her, head to toe. As her brain warred with her heart over what the right thing to do might be, her body gave the answer by arching just enough so that he could more easily nip the skin he’d kissed.
Shuddering with need just that quickly, when he shifted their hands on her chest so that they were both cupping one breast together, as his name fell from her lips she was shocked to find her throat slightly raw.
A dozen sensual visions from the night before came at her then. She’d never been one of those women who felt they had to put on a show in bed, but with Jack, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from calling out his name.
He was hot and hard against her bottom, and all it would have taken was the slightest shift of his legs and her hips for him to be inside her again. But where they’d rushed to have each other in the darkness the night before, this morning he was torturing her with slow, sweet caresses, as if he wanted to commit every inch of her to memory.
From breast to waist, then waist to hip, then hip to thigh, then front to back before starting all over again, Mary didn’t know whether to praise or curse Jack’s boundless patience as he lazily stroked her naked skin and curves. No man had ever taken so much time, so much care with her before. As she reveled in his caresses, her hunger for him was so strong that she had to turn and slide her hands into his hair for a deep, heated kiss.
Oh, but there was something wonderful about a man who knew when to give a woman what she wanted…and when to give her what she actually needed. Hard and fast would have been amazing, but as she realized he wouldn’t be rushed—and that all she could do was relax into the stroke of his hands, the kisses from his lips, the gentle scratch of his teeth against her skin—Mary finally stopped trying to fight, to lead…or to worry.
Gasps of pleasure were followed by moans of delight as he discovered her secret pleasures inch by inch. Kisses landed like butterflies across her skin until he was fluttering them across her lips again. Joy rose up inside her, bigger and brighter than any happiness she’d known before Jack.
And when he finally moved his fingers between her legs and Mary tumbled into ecstasy with his name on her lips, even then he didn’t rush to finish what he’d started. Instead, he rolled her onto her back and slid his hands over hers to keep her steady as he came into her so slowly and sweetly that her arousal heightened all over again from the delicious weight of his body over hers.
Jack’s heart beat hard against hers, his eyes dark and full of emotion as he loved her. And in that moment—when all of her walls fell down and she gave herself to him completely—Mary knew she loved him right back.
* * *
In the minutes that followed the most extraordinary lovemaking of Mary’s life, Jack remained levered over her, his dark gaze not wavering as he stared into her eyes. What, she wondered, was he thinking as he looked at her the way he was now?
As if he was seeing her anew…
Reaching instinctively to smooth her hair, she realized it was knotted behind her head. She’d loved it when he’d slid his hands into her hair and tangled his fingers in it as he’d made wild love to her. But in the aftermath of that wildness, she knew she didn’t look anywhere near her best.
“I should probably go clean up. And then,” she said with an attempt at an easy smile, “I’ll make us some breakfast. Do you like eggs?”
“Breakfast can wait.” Jack draped an arm and a leg over her and held her where she was beneath him. “I’m not done looking yet.”
Mary tried not to grimace. “I’m sure I look like a mess.”
As if to confirm her statement, he reached out to run a finger through her hair,
and it got caught on a tangle as he rolled the lock up around his finger. “You’ve always looked so perfect,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen you like this, rumpled, with lines from the pillow on your cheek.”
Her heart sank to her stomach as she realized her mistake. She’d been so comfortable with Jack, so head over heels for him and his kisses, that she’d forgotten to keep up the mystique of being Mary Ferrer.
Before Jack, she would have worked to glide over it with a laugh and a witty comment. But after the sweet intimacy of lovemaking, her emotions were close enough to the surface that she said, “It’s a good thing then that I have a big bag of model’s tricks to make myself perfect again.”
Surprise jumped into Jack’s eyes at her defensive tone. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”
Her looks had been her ticket to adventures all over the world and a glittering career that had exceeded any expectations she’d had as a girl full of dreams. Even so, sometimes she hated the fact that keeping that ticket valid meant she had to spend so much time on keeping up her appearance. She’d never owned a pair of sweatpants. She’d never gone out for a cup of coffee without at least some mascara and lipstick.
She would never take what she had for granted, but if she had known the price it would come with—not just losing her mother’s love but this endless focus on perfection—she might have walked more slowly through that childhood door into her adult life.
Despite everything they’d shared since last night, did Jack only want to see the perfect version of her? Mary had to close her eyes against a bolt of pain that hit her at the thought.
A moment later she felt Jack’s gentle caress on her cheek.
“Don’t shut me out, Angel. Not now.”
She’d been brave enough to give him her body. Knowing she should have the courage to answer his questions now, she made herself meet his gaze head-on.
“You’re right that almost no one has ever seen me looking like this, or as anything less than the perfect model they’re expecting to see.”
“Then that makes me the luckiest man in the world. Which,” he added with a sexy grin that made her heart skip a beat in her chest, “I already knew.”
But wait—what had he just said?
“Lucky?” she repeated. “But my hair is knotted and my makeup has rubbed off all over the pillowcase.”
“Every time you’ve been in front of a camera, I’ve been stunned by your beauty and by how well you do your job. But getting to see you now, a little messy, all of your stunning features a little out of focus while you’re still catching your breath from making love with me—” He picked up one of her hands and put it over his breastbone. “It does something to me. Right here.”
Feeling his heart beat strong and steady against her palm steadied hers, too.
“You’ll always be beautiful to me, Mary. Especially now.”
His sweet words meant more to her than any jewel, than any expensive gift, than any poetic words possibly could have.
No one but Jack had ever truly wanted her the way she really was.
“You’re right,” she murmured as she wrapped her naked limbs around his, “breakfast can wait.”
* * *
Unlike most models, Mary ate a healthy diet. Part of staying slim enough for the camera was genetics. The other part was that she loved being in motion. Walking, swimming, dancing…making love. Besides, she loved eating too much to ever consider giving up delicious food.
But as she sat at her breakfast table across from Jack an hour later, she couldn’t manage even the tiniest bite of the eggs, crisp bacon and toast he’d just whipped up for them while she’d spoken briefly with Janeen on the telephone. Mary supposed it stood to reason that a bachelor in his early thirties would have to know how to cook or else he might starve, but this was a breakfast that under other circumstances she would have wolfed down.
She’d loved every second in Jack’s arms. He’d made her feel cherished and safe while giving her pleasure she’d never known before. She’d never been with a man like Jack, one who held nothing back, and gave even when he couldn’t guarantee getting anything in return for himself.
And yet, somehow, she still wasn’t sure what her next step should be…and she hated herself for it.
But just because she was horribly afraid he was going to hate her, too, that was no excuse for ignoring the two-thousand-pound elephant in the room. She’d never been a coward and she wouldn’t start now, not when she had far too much respect for Jack to willfully hurt him.
“You mean so much to me,” she began in a soft voice as she twisted the napkin on her lap, “and last night was incredible.”
Her breakfast table was small enough that he could easily reach for her hand. “Being with you made it the best night of my life,” he told her, his voice gentle and sincere. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what you said about taking it one day, and one night, at a time. Or about keeping what’s between us just for us to know about.”
In her experience, men heard what they wanted to hear, regardless of what she actually said to them. She’d been pretty sure by now that Jack was different, but after what they’d just shared, what man wouldn’t have assumed she’d changed her mind about going slow and not mixing up business with pleasure if they could help it?
“I haven’t forgotten what you said, either, about wanting more than one night.” Even though he didn’t look at all angry with her, she felt terrible about taking what he’d offered when she herself had given him so little in return. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I—”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He tugged her onto his lap and said, “You make me happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.”
His sweet acceptance of her just the way she was made her heartbeat settle and the knot in her stomach uncoil. Framing his face in her hands, she told him the one thing she knew for sure.
“You make me happy, too.”
Chapter Fourteen
The next few days followed in a blur of meetings and promotional activities, while the nights were a dazzling rush of sweet and sinful lovemaking. Somehow, Jack managed to keep his promise to Mary, not only about keeping their relationship a secret but by holding back the one small but very meaningful word that was burning a hole inside of him.
Love, his mother had once told him, might not always be easy, but whatever struggles or pain that might come with it, true love was always worth it.
Jack had seen the truth of that in his parents’ marriage. Now he understood that for all these years he’d been waiting for Mary. She was his destiny. And whether or not she was ready to accept it yet, he was hers.
But just because they were meant to be together, he knew better than to think he could simply sit back and let things take their natural course. He wanted to give her everything—not just pleasure but romance, too. Apart from that first evening in the diner, he’d never taken her out on a date. And though they’d been extremely busy working on the campaign, that was a poor excuse.
Tonight, no matter what, he’d give her not only flowers but memories of more than passion and heat, too.
When Mary let him in that evening, she was so beautiful and she tasted so good that he nearly forgot his plans for the evening. Her eyes widened at the red poinsettia plant in the green-painted pot that he was holding out to her.
“You bought me flowers,” she said, slightly stunned.
They’d shared the ultimate intimacy, yet he found he was nervous as he held out the flowers. “I was going to get you roses, but when I saw this, I immediately thought of you.”
She took the pot from him and admired the large flowers. “When I was a little girl, there were hundreds of these plants all over town at Christmastime.” She lifted her gaze to his again, wonder in them as she asked, “How do you always know me so well?”
He prayed that she already knew the answer…even if he’d promised not to speak those words of love aloud until she was ready to hear them.
> “I should find a good spot for this,” she said. But instead of moving into the living room, she simply put the pot down on the floor, then pulled him toward her and pushed the door closed behind him. Her lips found his, and then she was raining kisses from his mouth to his jaw, before nipping seductively at his earlobe. “I missed you today,” she told him between kisses. “So much.”
He’d made plans to give her romance, and Jack Sullivan always followed through on his plans…but how could he possibly keep his hands from roving down her curves?
“I don’t just want you for your body,” he told her as he tried to keep hold of the reins long enough to take her out for some long-overdue wooing. “I want to give you a romantic evening tonight.”
Her eyes flared with surprise and obvious pleasure at his intention, but when she lifted one leg and wrapped it around his thighs and kissed him again, Jack realized that for the next few minutes he had no choice but to completely give up the tenuous control he had over himself.
His hands dove into her hair as he crushed her mouth beneath his. Together they moved just far enough inside to sink down onto the soft rug in front of her Christmas tree. She pulled off his sweater and he untied the sash around the waist of her dress. His belt buckle opened at the same time silk slid from her shoulders. He got the clasp of her bra to come free just as she gave up on the final buttons of his shirt and yanked it open.
They rolled together on the rug with Mary on top, straddling his hips as she pressed hot kisses all across his chest. But moments later he was the one moving over her, his hands stroking her body so that she was crying out with pleasure. There was no rhythm to their lovemaking tonight, no plan, no goal as both of them followed their wild—and loving—instincts.
