The idea that she could survive a night without him, more so.
It was a dangerous road. A thrilling one.
One she wanted to ride for all it was worth.
He swapped sides. Somehow. She hadn’t let go of his head, and she was still riding him through his clothes. His self-control was ridiculous. She’d have sold her soul in that moment for an orgasm, and he was just toying with her. If only he’d toy with her there…
She leaned back, escaping his mouth. He fastened his gaze on her, then wordlessly pulled her into a kiss. Madly, deeply, he explored her mouth, his hands on the small of her back, pressing her body against his. His skin was soft, his muscles hard, the heat unbearable. She had never wanted to come so badly that it hurt not to, but this need crippled her. The ache was almost a pain, the wait nothing short of agony.
“You want me, baby?”
“Yes.” The understatement of the millennium. And he asked so innocently she might have laughed if she weren’t so riddled with an absolutely nonnegotiable need to hit the big O. She probably would have sounded maniacal, à la The Shining. Yeah, that was sexy.
But dear God, Jax was. He grinned and stood, taking her with him. Then he turned, switching positions with her so it was she over the bed, and eased her onto the mattress. When he backed away, she almost cried out for him. Then she noticed his attempt to get out of his jeans and thought better of it. He actually winced as he worked the zipper, and she realized she wasn’t the only one wanting. Or naked underneath. “You go commando?”
“Not the best idea today,” he said, “because I don’t think those teeth marks are coming out, but yeah.” Teeth marks? He won the battle with the zipper—oh, those teeth—and shucked his shoes and pants.
And she could only stare, mouth open, at the whole nine yards.
Nine yards. Holy…
The thing was a beast. Of course it was. No way a man as hot as Jax would pack light. Nature couldn’t be that cruel.
Or maybe it was precisely that cruel. Stupendously so.
“I’m not sure…”
He leaned past her and grabbed a condom, then managed to turn rolling it on into a seduction. Just the thought of that thing in her made her ache. Both ways.
When he stood, he pulled her to her feet. “C’mere.”
He looped his thumbs at her hips down her thong, then eased the strings down, first one side, then the other. At some point he must have let it fall, but his hands held their course. His palms flattened against her butt. She’d have been a little paranoid if his expression hadn’t taken on that of someone who had just tasted something delicious, which at least in her mind meant he liked what he saw. He must have liked it a lot, because all that yummy contentment melted into something dark and wild. Jax being cute and sexy was one thing, but feral Jax was a force. Feral Jax could move mountains with his eyes alone.
The thong out of his way, he sat on the bed and once again tugged her to his lap. He gestured for clearance, so she got to her knees. When he grabbed his erection and positioned it under her, she caught on. He wanted her on top.
She had never, ever been on top before. Had no idea what to do. But she was unbelievably wet at the prospect, and he was already there, probing her entrance and damned if she didn’t want to figure it all out.
He watched her intently, and the rest of her world faded away. She trusted him. Coveted him. Would probably build a shrine to him when it was over. No one had ever looked at her in such a way. No one had ever made her feel treasured, like the world wouldn’t turn another inch without her in it. The thought of leaving that behind made her want to crumble, but fortunately she had a freaking redwood there to hold her up. All she had to do was climb on.
Yep. That was it. Just. Climb. On.
Anticipation assaulted her until she no longer had a choice. She eased her weight onto him and couldn’t stop the gasp of pure pleasure that erupted as he filled her. Just a couple inches down, then back up. Further the next time. Her body screamed at the pace, wanting more. Her resolution that she could never, ever take him disintegrated. She wanted him. All of him.
His hands were on her hips, not pushing, but guiding her. He didn’t give her a chance to sit there and figure out what to do next. He was already there, rocking her with a gentleness that belied the punishing, possessive desire that tore through her. The realization that she’d taken his entire length stunned her, but she didn’t have time to wallow in it. The sensations were too pure. Too much. The pressure on her clit was exquisite. Relentless. The pace increased, and she wasn’t sure who to blame. Just knew that she shattered before she’d even broken a sweat. She was only vaguely aware of him flipping her over and rolling into her, muttering profanity as his hips rocked against hers, then jerked. She felt that to her core, his body driven so deeply into hers that he’d become a part of her.
Her very favorite part.
“I’ll be able to move again in a minute,” he muttered through jagged breaths. “Which is about one minute longer than that took.”
She blinked away the sparks that dotted her vision. The ceiling spun. It looked like one of those time lapsed astronomy photos, all swirls and light. Either she couldn’t handle her orgasms, or she couldn’t handle Jax Mathis.
But she’d learn.
“If I counted right,” she said, “you still have five chances to redeem yourself.”
“I’m sure there are more where those came from,” he said. The mattress muffled his voice.
She laughed. Tangled her fingers in his hair. Stretched beneath him, luxuriating under his weight. He was solid. Strong. Hers. Maybe not that last part, but she wanted it. Wanted it so badly.
She absolutely sucked at one-night stands.
Too quickly, he eased his weight from her, crawling backward. Away. She watched him for only a second, then let her head fall back to the pillow. She closed her eyes and tried to memorize every sensation, but already her thoughts offered no relief. She’d just come harder than she ever had in her life, and already she wanted more.
She vaguely registered that he headed for the bathroom and figured he had to dispose of the condom. One down, five to go. A moment later he was back, his hands pushing aside her knees. His mouth on her. She swallowed a scream—the good kind—as he tasted her. Thoroughly. Each brush with her sensitized clit was more crippling than the last. Two laps of his tongue later, she was clutching the bedding, torn between spreading her legs further and clamping her thighs against his head. Either option sounded fantastic, but she didn’t have the wherewithal to make the choice. She felt like she’d grabbed an electric fence. With her teeth. “This is almost cruel,” she managed.
“Faster than a shower,” he said, grinning, and plowing deeper. Not as deep as he’d been moments earlier with the mighty redwood, but with more dexterity. Soft, then rough, working her with both sides of his tongue until she’d all but ripped the sheets from the bed. Orgasm claimed her, quietly, leaving her whimpering. Less needy, more exhausted.
Totally, absolutely wrecked.
Chapter Eight
Ellie dozed.
Jax watched her, unsure if he’d ever put a woman to sleep before. Even more unsure how to take it. He knew he’d lost all sense of rational existence when she’d taken his cock. Knew she’d wanted him because she was slick as fuck. Knew she’d come because every spasm had jacked him. It had been scary good—so good he half worried the force of how good it was had torn through the condom. Fortunately, it had remained intact.
Him, not so much.
She was perfect. Something that didn’t exist in his life. Couldn’t. But there was no other word for her. Not just the sex, although there were no words for that, either. There was just something about her. Something that scared him.
He tried to pick it apart. She wasn’t the only woman who smiled at him. Wasn’t the only one with an infectious laugh. Not the only one wary of Vegas and clueless on slots. She was just…Ellie.
The door beckoned him. Get out, bud
dy. He should. He had a rule against overnights. But he also had her, if only for one more day, and he wasn’t quite ready to let go of that broken piece of him that felt dangerously close to salvation.
He stared beyond the glass to the city below, and for the first time felt like a stranger in it. Vegas was so all-fucked crazy that anyone could belong, but he didn’t feel that way then. His gaze skated to Ellie, to the long, sleek lines of her body and the sweet innocence of her face. She had a phenomenal ass. Sensual lips. Smart, funny, total package.
Run.
Not likely. Not yet. He’d missed that boat when he arranged to meet her after Focker’s shindig.
Rather than leave, he helped himself to her shower. He turned on the spray and stood there, wondering how it was possible he’d known her for a couple of days. Not even that long. It felt like ages ago that she’d showed up, all wide-eyed and clueless about Focker. Jax had rolled his eyes to high heaven over having to babysit the pampered cover model, but now it felt like the biggest break of his life.
Or was it the worst?
He did a once-over with the soap. His dick begged for more than the flimsy attention, but he ignored it. He’d feel like an ass if she walked in there and caught him, although the idea sparked a new fantasy—one where she’d drop to her knees and look up at him with those big brown eyes as she sucked him dry.
Oh, yeah. He was so far beyond screwed he’d need a road map to find his way back.
He toweled off, then pulled on his jeans and ordered room service. They’d just eaten not too long ago, but he had bacon on his mind. Bacon and syrup. As soon as he hung up, he went to Ellie and worked the blankets out from under her so he could cover her. He hated to do that, but he’d also hate to bust up the room service guy for seeing her naked, so he kept with the plan.
While he waited he flipped channels, eventually settling on a crime show. It reminded him of her Dateline concerns and the fact that she had trusted him. He was in some kind of bad shape if he couldn’t watch a forensic report without thinking about her. Wanting her.
What the hell happened here?
He was saved from having to answer his own question when the food arrived. He tore into the pancakes, leaving a couple of them plus the bacon for her. Syrup for dessert.
“Do I smell bacon?” she asked, her voice sleepy. Sexy.
He didn’t look at her. Just broke into a smile that surprised him. “Welcome back.”
“Seriously, is there bacon?” She sounded more alert now.
He handed her a piece over his shoulder. “I don’t know why you parted ways with bacon, but I think it’s time you stage a reunion.”
She crawled across the bed, settling next to him on the foot. “Haven’t I?”
“What about when you leave here?”
The question took on a meaning he never intended. It hung there heavily, a white elephant in a gaudy hotel in a room that smelled deliciously of swine.
“About the bacon, I mean.”
“I think I’ll still want it,” she said softly.
He wasn’t one of those intuitive types, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t talking about the bacon. He swallowed whatever that threatened to mean to him. “I’m not finished with you, you know.”
“Is that a warning?”
Remembering what she’d said earlier about syrup, he dunked a piece of bacon and handed it to her. “Yep.”
He glanced back in time to see a drop of syrup fall, landing just north of her left nipple. She swiped it with her finger, then stuck her finger in her mouth and licked it. When she saw him watching, she blushed, all kinds of pretty.
His cock hardened. No warning, not much chance of hiding it, but thank God for the jeans. He wasn’t a connoisseur of dick sizes. Had no idea his was worthy of alarm, but he believed her reaction genuine. The woman was unbelievably tight. Absolutely made for him. Her wariness over the size of his junk wasn’t something he wanted.
Neither was one night.
He wanted more. Wanted them all.
Nope, nope, nope.
Couldn’t go there. He’d already lost too much, and in doing so he’d proven himself unworthy. Logically he knew better than to think he could have her outside of the bedroom—and the weekend—but he couldn’t relegate her to anything less than something meaningful. They may not be going anywhere with this, but she was no one-nighter. Not by a long shot.
His affirmation hadn’t fazed her. Not like bacon. She held out her hand, clearly not reaching for him. But he took her anyway, closing his mouth on her fingers and sucking them in until he’d eradicated every last trace of bacon. When he released her, she stared, dazed, as he swirled another piece of bacon in syrup and handed it over.
She took it and without breaking eye contact brushed her nipple, leaving behind a trail of syrup. “Your turn.”
Oh, hell no. He used all the restraint in the world to not throw the plate down. Not dive in. And then he figured out how to use all that restraint to his advantage. He wasn’t going down in fewer than ten thrusts. Not this time.
She sat on the bed on her knees, gorgeous. Syrup drizzled down her breast. A drop actually beaded on her tight nipple, the little bastard. He bypassed it to take her hand, then he again sucked her finger into his mouth. When the flavor was gone, he worked on her thumb. The drop of syrup on her nipple held on.
“You aren’t as innocent as I thought you were,” he murmured, tugging her to her feet.
“Trust me, you’ve done all the corrupting.”
“Good.” He bent down, cupped her breast, and trailed his tongue over the syrup. He wanted so badly to take the whole thing in his mouth, but the night was going too fast. He wanted to know more than her body. He wanted to know her, and that was terrifying.
Too bad it didn’t terrify him enough to keep him away from a phallic meltdown, but he’d figure that out. They had all night.
One damn night.
He must have shaken his head. Looked at her in a certain way.
“You don’t want to do this?”
“Funny thing,” he said. “I can’t think of what I’ve ever wanted more. Scares the hell out of me.”
She blinked once. Then about ten more times. Then she scooched off the bed. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said.
“Okay.” Only it wasn’t. He had no clue what he’d said. Or hadn’t. He watched her walk, attention pegged on her ass, until she disappeared into the bathroom. Why had she chosen that moment to walk away? Was she feeling what he felt? He ached with the reality of this mess he’d gotten himself into. He was afraid to stay. Just as afraid to go. Did she want him out of her room?
He turned toward the view of the city. Barely recognized it. The landmarks were there, but something inside him had changed. Something inside him that needed her. But he couldn’t do that—he’d avoided connections far too long. This one had slipped past him. Thrown him.
He sensed her presence before he heard her. Before she slid her arms around his waist from behind and rested her head against his shoulder. She wore a shirt. The realization hit him hard. Regrets already?
So many questions assaulted him, but one hit harder than the rest. One mattered more. He tried to push away the importance it held, but all he managed was to ask, “You think you’d ever leave Colorado?”
“I never even thought about it before.” She left the rest unspoken. She had now. “You think you’d ever leave Vegas?”
He stared through the glass, the knowledge strong that he stood inside a building that looked like it had fallen off a trailer at Mardi Gras. On the strip, among palaces and pyramids and scaled down versions of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower, the Masquerade didn’t stand out. Much. But just a block to one side or the other, the view was almost normal. Casinos were scattered throughout the city, but off strip they tended to wear the neon with a bit more subtlety. Of course, subtle compared to the deep fried vat of crazy that was Las Vegas Boulevard probably wouldn’t qualify anywhere else in the world, b
ut here, it was a thing.
“I don’t do mountains,” he said. He still wouldn’t. Not even for her.
He turned to draw her into his arms, to soften his words, and was surprised to discover the shirt she wore was his. Seeing her like that made his heart do funny things in his chest—things he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“Funny thing about mountains,” she said. She traced the lines of his tattoo as she spoke. He wondered if she looked at it and saw what he did. What he couldn’t forget. “Some people just stand at the bottom and talk about how big they are, never once believing they could get to the top. And some people aren’t afraid of the climb, but of what they’ll see when they get there.” She looked from the artwork on his arm to his face. “Some people are just so afraid of falling that they won’t even try.”
“What about the ones who do fall?” he asked. “Those who hit the ground hard and are just too damned broken to get back up again?”
“Is that what happened to you?”
Him. Gracie. Same damn thing. He hadn’t quite realized that before. Sixteen years later, and neither one of them were living. “Not every wound can be healed.”
“I saw you out there in the desert,” she said. “I saw your face. You found something out there, and it scared you. That’s why you come back to this city, isn’t it? Because nothing here is real.”
Her words cut a little too close for comfort. Stung like a bitch.
“You’re real,” he said. It sounded a little more like a protest. An excuse.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No, Jax. I’m not. I’m Colorado.”
He closed his eyes. She was right. She couldn’t be real—not if he had any chance of standing upright when she left—but at that moment he wished on every star in the sky that she could be. But what did that matter? The stars didn’t exist there. Not the real ones, not over the glow of the neon. “Why did you put on the shirt?”
“Because you scared me.”
Gambling on the Bodyguard Page 8
