That sounded like her trying to escape, so I’d promised to hug her at the wedding. Two sleeps. And Fritha had just been Fritha, sending me champagne and chocolates and flowers—every day a new package. My girls were happy for my success. I should be happy for me. But…
Jack.
Oh. My. God.
There. On the other side of the room, against the wall, watching me.
People moved between us but I was sure I’d seen him, so I hurried in that direction. Unfortunately, just at that moment, a black clad figure stepped in front of me and I slammed straight into him with an undignified Ooof.
It was such an impact, I almost bounced backwards, except that he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me hard up against him.
“There.” He breathed bourbon all over me. “Are you okay?”
I looked up into his face and couldn’t help recoiling, so shocked by the scars crisscrossing his cheeks, that I didn’t register for a second that he was still holding me far too closely. His white hair was shaggy and his eyes were pale blue, like a Husky. They bored into mine and despite his smile, the effect was menacing. “You should look where you’re going.”
I put my good hand between us and pushed on his chest, finding my feet as he let me go. My first instinct was to walk away—no, run away. But instead I said, “Excuse me,” and I went to step around him but, incredibly, he held an arm out to stop me.
“We’ve only just met.” He smiled, showing off teeth that had been capped in gold, and it was all I could do not to shudder. On someone else it might have looked luxe, but this guy was creepy with a capital C.
“I’m on my way to the toilet,” I said quite clearly. “If you stop me there might be a problem.”
Better to be embarrassed than to be groped.
“Do you know the way?” he asked. “I can show you.” There was something about his smile that completely unnerved me and I found myself going very still, as if I was frightened that a sudden move would make him pounce. There was no way I was going anywhere with this guy.
“My husband doesn’t like me to talk to strange men.” I couldn’t help the quaver in my voice. I was starting to get scared, and had trotted out the first defense I could think of.
The horrible man burst out laughing, but in the next second I felt an arm come around my waist from behind, and I knew it was Jack, even before he spoke. I could smell his aftershave, and the warmth of his body was so familiar I wanted to melt back into it.
“Correct,” he snapped, and the man in front of me stopped laughing. “I get very tense when strange men accost my wife.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jack’s voice was throbbing with tension, and I suddenly realized from the way the creep’s eyes had narrowed that this could end up in a brawl. I found my voice, “Particularly when I’m about to pee.” I was hoping that would deflate the testosterone bubble surrounding me.
“Husband, eh?” the creepy man said, and looked from one of us to the other. “Then good luck to you, matie.” He nodded at Jack and walked off.
I didn’t bother to breathe a sigh of relief. I just wanted Jack, so I turned in his arms. “Why are you here?”
How had he wangled an invite to such an exclusive event?
Not that I cared, but I had to start somewhere. I couldn’t just kiss him and rip his beautiful black suit off and—
“Because I’m an idiot.” He was glaring, but I could see he wasn’t angry at me. Still, my heart rose in my throat at the thought that he might walk away. “Because Tug fucking Dunn couldn’t look after a Volkswagen, let alone something precious like—”
Precious?
He breathed heavily through his mouth while we stared at each other, then his gaze dipped to take in the curves of my white lace dress and the peekaboo spaces the lace didn’t cover. I could feel my face warming, but I didn’t care.
The party clattered on around us with raucous music in the background, but I was completely oblivious to every single thing apart from Jack—the way he looked at me, the way his lips pressed together, almost as if he was holding something in.
“Thank you,” I said, in case I forgot. And I waved vaguely in the direction the creep had exited.
“You need a bodyguard,” he said, almost accusingly. “Someone like that Nicholas Markes who was at your apartment.”
“How do you know his name?”
“I’m an idiot,” he said again, as if I should have remembered. “Only an idiot would spend his time thinking about a woman who…” He waved an arm around, almost connecting with the couple dancing behind him. “…isn’t right for him.”
The words caught me like a shove in the solar plexus—compounding the rejection I’d felt every time I’d listened to his recorded message. The Angela of a year ago would have been demoralized by this fresh rejection. She would have slunk away with her tail between her legs. But I suddenly realized, that wasn’t me anymore.
This new Angela had determination, and it rallied inside me. I knew he desired me, so I stepped close, grabbed his suit coat and pulled him down so I could whisper in his ear. “You said I was perfect. That time, against the wall—”
And that was as far as I got before his head turned and his lips closed over mine and sweet heat of his kiss brought every tingling nerve-ending to throbbing life.
It was so beautiful, because in that moment my heart soared and I knew, I just knew that I was in love with him.
So I kissed him with all I had, not trying to seduce him, but trying to show him my love, and before I knew it the passion was overlaid with a simmering tenderness that made me want to cry.
He had to love me. No man could kiss like that and not feel something. Maybe Louella was right. Maybe he didn’t know. And if she was right, I needed to grab this opportunity while I had it.
So I pulled away. “I’m done with this party.”
“I’m staying upstairs.”
“Good. I desperately need to pee.” And there was no way I was leaving his side until I had him naked. Only then would I be sure he wasn’t going to change his mind.
We found Tug cozied up in a booth with a boy band. He barely cared that I was leaving with Jack. Then after ten agonizing minutes of keeping our hands off each other as we walked past film crews and hotel staff, we were finally inside Jack’s suite and he had me against the door again, his big hands gliding over my breasts, driving me completely insane.
“Nipples up,” he whispered.
“I have to pee. Seriously.” Walking away from him was the last thing I wanted, but nature wins out.
He pulled back and smiled at me with that wicked I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to like it smile that I adored. “Can I watch?”
“No! Jill would never speak to me again.”
“Jill the blabbermouth? Don’t you owe her for the don’t fake it indiscretion?”
I laughed and shook my head. “Maybe. But you’re not watching me peel out of Spanx. It’s not a sexy look.”
His smiled faded. “Everything about you is sexy. And I can’t imagine a future that doesn’t involve making you come. But…”
He frowned, and I pressed a finger against his lips, mindful of Louella’s advice. “Just stay with me tonight. Don’t think about tomorrow.”
I held my breath as he thought about that and it seemed to take him a long time, but at last he nodded. “Okay. But only if I can peel off the dress.”
I grinned. “Zipper at the back.” And I turned in his arms.
He peeled it down, slowly, leaning in to kiss the back of my neck while he did, and my head fell forward. The tendrils of hair fell out of my eyes and my nipples ached. I desperately wanted to feel his mouth on them, but I also wanted to make this last, despite my overfull bladder.
Somehow that uncomfortable sensation down low added to the tingles as his large hands slid over my shoulders, pushing the dress forward so it fell to my waist, then those hands slipped over my breasts and I sucked in a shaky breath before they sl
id down to my hips to ease the dress off, being careful of my cast.
The slinky fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me in my very high white heels and skin colored Spanx.
“Fuck,” he said softly, then he swallowed so loudly I could hear it over the faint hum of the air conditioning. “Leave the shoes on.”
“Okay.”
I was about to walk into the bathroom I could see a few paces away but he whipped an arm around my waist and pulled me back gently into his body. I could feel his erection against my bottom, and as his hands slid up my midriff to cover my breasts, encased in the corseting Spanx, I pressed my ass back into him and sighed.
“You come first,” he said softly against my ear. “Every time.”
“I like that rule.”
He laughed softly, then he let me go and I strode into the black marble bathroom as if I was an Amazon and not a bouncy, curvy woman who’d spent half her life trying to contain that jiggle.
When I had the Spanx off—a one-handed contortion I would be glad never to repeat again—I indulged in the longest pee I could remember. Then I helped myself to his oversized shower to get clean, but as I was finishing, Jack came into the bathroom and I stopped rinsing to watch him strip off.
There’s something inherently sexy about a man in a suit, so when a man like Jack—who has a body to die for—strips his off…oh my. I leant back on the black shower tiles and shamelessly watched him, loving the length of his thighs and way his erection poked out from under his white dress shirt before he stripped that off too. His shoulders were so wide, and that delicious chest, so big and buff. I wanted to smear myself over it and never let go.
Then he walked toward me with such hunger in his eyes, I felt the throb of it inside my own chest.
“I like you watching me.” His voice was husky and his hands settled on my waist. Then they slid around to cup my ass and pull me into him for a kiss that went on for so long I forgot where we were until he stopped and I felt the shower spray on my leg again.
Then I remembered, I had an agenda tonight—doing things with Jack that I’d never done with a man before. I needed to get started with that. So I swallowed down nerves and said, “I’m clean. Let’s see about you, Mr. Davenworth.”
He smiled that cheeky smile of his and passed me the soap. “Knock yourself out.”
I turned him around and moved his hands up to rest on the tiles, so he was facing away from me and spread-eagled. Then I started on his back, knowing this would be less nerve-wracking if he wasn’t watching my face. “So, are there any parts that might need special attention?” I asked as guilelessly as I could. He said nothing so I added, “I’ve only got one hand, so I might need to linger in some places, to be sure the job is done right.”
He rested his forehead on the tiles and groaned. “This is going to kill me.”
I had never explored a man’s body like this before, but the Angela I had become—the Angela that Jack had somehow activated—was a lustful, curious creature who delighted in stroking and scratching and fondling.
When I’d finished caressing his beautiful back—under the guise of soaping him up—not to mention those amazingly hard pecs on the other side, I let my hand drift down his belly, and I adored the way his scrumptious backside tensed as my hand slid lower. Then I was touching his erection with my soapy fingers and my own breath caught in excitement as I stroked the length of it, marveling at how it affected me when he groaned, low in his throat.
I immediately felt a clutching sensation down low, as if he was touching me. There was definitely something sexy about hearing your lover’s sounds of pleasure, and I could understand now why Jack was so intent on mine.
So I concentrated on his, marveling that the shaft of his penis was so hard, and yet the tip was softer. When I rolled that in my fingertips he groaned again and his lower body stiffened against me.
“If you want to come first…” he breathed against the black shower tiles, “…I suggest you stop that,” but he made no move to pull away, and I felt so giddy with the thrill of what I was doing, I moved in closer, holding my cast up out of the spray while I pressed my breasts against his back.
“I’ve never done this before,” I said. “Please let me…” My languid stroking suddenly wasn’t enough for me, so I gripped his penis harder and started pumping it slowly. He groaned in earnest then, his fingers tightening on the tiles above his head. I was so reckless with my own arousal, I said, “I want to taste you and—”
“Okay, stop!” His hand closed over mine and he eased it away, then he turned to face me, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched his harsh breaths. “You know the rules.”
I shook my head, then looked down at his soapy penis and licked my lips. If I washed the soap off, would he let me—
“Stop looking at me like that,” he growled.
“But I’ve never…” I licked my lips again, wanting to feel that hard flesh inside my mouth, to see what it felt like, what it tasted like. “I want to—”
His mouth came down over mine and he kissed me hard, as if he was trying to obliterate the powerful sensations my touch had awoken. One of his hands held my cast up away from the spray while the other pinned me to the shower wall and then roved over my body, sliding wetly up over my breasts and into my hair to tilt my head so he could dominate the kiss more thoroughly.
In seconds I was overwhelmed by the hot, hungry taste of his mouth and the way his tongue stroked mine, sending shivers of heat down through my body. Then he let my scalp go and kept kissing me as he slid that hand down to caress my breasts again, tweaking the nipples so they stung and made me moan.
I’d been aching for that, so I pushed my chest into his hand, completely forgetting what I’d wanted to do to him, I was so consumed with the mindless sensations racing and pooling where I wanted him inside me.
“I do the fucking,” he growled against my lips. “And I say who comes first.”
The breathless audacity of his claim made me tingle to the roots of my hair, and I willingly gave myself up to him, opening my legs when his hand slid down my belly so he could delve into the damp curls and find my throbbing clitoris, sending a stab of pure pleasure upwards through my body, so that even my breasts ached with it. Then he started to stroke me and my legs trembled with the fierceness of sensation that built in me like a tornado about to descend and wreak havoc.
“You. Come. First,” he breathed against my forehead, and then I did, shuddering under his hand while he kept stroking me and leant down to suckle hard on one nipple.
It made me cry out and arch my back, but he held my cast hard, pinning me there as he sucked and stroked until at last I said, “Stop. Stop.” And he did, letting go of my hand and moving me carefully out of the stream of water.
I stood trembling in the corner of the overlarge shower, astonished that my legs still held me up. More than just tendrils had fallen out of my up-do, and they stuck to my cheeks.
“Give me a second.” He finished washing himself and then rinsed off the suds, before turning back to me like a Greek God, golden and dripping, grinning that cheeky-bastard grin of his. One of his eyebrows rose. “You have no idea how sexy you look all fucked over.”
I shook my head. I probably looked like a drowned rat. But he just nodded, as if to say, I’m right and you’re wrong.
Then his grin widened. “I swear,” he said, “The way you look at me brings out some primitive Neanderthal impulses.”
“Because you’re normally so meek and mild.”
His smile faded. “Right in this moment I want to fuck you until I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t feel anything else but you around me. Over me. Under me.”
I nodded. “Yes.” All of that.
We stared at each other a moment longer, then he said, “Bed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Before we left the bathroom he wrapped me in a big toweling robe to get the worst of the water off, and did the same himself, then he took my hand and l
ed me out through a living room with elegant furniture to the bedroom where I stopped just inside the door, looking at the bed.
“Second thoughts?” he said, coming in behind me.
I could feel his erection press into me as I shook my head. “Just catching my breath.”
What I was actually doing was trying to remember what Louella had said. If he’s not in love now, he may be in the future. My plan of sex and food had seemed easy when I’d been longing for him and thinking I’d never have the chance to enact it. Only, now that my body was cooling after the mad tumult of orgasm, I felt empty inside, aching for an emotional intimacy that may never exist.
“Cinderella,” he whispered, and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “You forgot your shoes.”
That made me laugh, despite the dull ache inside. “Do you want me to go back and get them?”
He growled, low and soft into my neck where he was nuzzling my neck. “I did have a fantasy about those sexy white heels and watching you walk in them.” He stripped both our robes off and kissed my nape beneath my falling down hair. I shivered with the sensations that skittered around, warming me again, so quickly. “But I think I’m about to go Neanderthal on you again.”
His hand drifted up from my waist, gliding over my ribs to cup the underside of a breast. “Oh yeah,” he breathed against my nape as his fingers slid up over the breast, waking it to tingling life again. “Forget the shoes.”
I turned in his arms and looked up into his face, momentarily shocked by the stark hunger I saw there. His banter was at odds with the intensity in his gaze, and his hands, now on my shoulders, trembled with some self-imposed restraint. Was he worried that he’d frighten me? “I want to see this Neanderthal,” I said recklessly. “What would he do if you weren’t controlling him?”
His eyes instantly darkened and his hands came up to cup my face. “Be careful what you wish for.”
“I trust you,” I said, gazing up at him and knowing that was true. I’d trusted him with sex, and now I was trusting him with my heart. There was no hope for us unless I let my barriers down. So I whispered, “Forget about my pleasure. What does he want?”
Husband Stay (Husband #2) Page 22
