Unwrapped Bundle with You Don't Know Jack & Bad Boys in Kilts

by Erin McCarthy

  Her nipples hardened. Her inner thighs went moist. Her breathing slowed, and her mouth drifted open. That one taste of Jack in Times Square had been so long ago. Hours and hours and hours ago.

  Just not enough, not when he was so, so close. She wanted another taste. And then some. She wanted to make love to this amazing man, sooner than later.

  “I could just crash at your place for a few hours,” she said quickly, before she lost her boldness and went shy on him. “Save on cab fare.”

  His eyes went dark, a stormy blue stained with desire. “That’s a good idea. I do have a spare bedroom.”

  Her mouth dropped in laughter at his teasing. But she knew he was joking. She gave him a flirtatious smile. “How thoughtful.”

  “Or there’s a king-size bed we could share…so we don’t have to make two beds later. Save us time.”

  He was moving closer, face so near hers she went cross-eyed trying to look at him. “Well, that’s very practical of you.”

  Before the words were even completely out, his mouth was over hers, kissing her with all the fervor and passion that she felt. Oh, yeah. Bring it home, honey.

  This was a kiss. This was Fourth of July fireworks, this was a tall iced tea on a hot summer day, this was hitting the lottery.

  Everything she’d ever wanted, wrapped up into one sultry tongue tango.

  Good Lord in heaven, he knew what he was doing.

  But he pulled back suddenly, and she whimpered. His eyes burned, his breath hot and hard.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  “What?” That didn’t sound good. That sounded like a preface to an I’m Married speech.

  “My last name…I never told you my last name.”

  “Is that all?” Jamie gave a shaky laugh. “You scared me there for a second.” Just briefly, Beckwith’s prediction about dishonesty had risen in her head, like a big pin ready to pop her balloon.

  “Sorry, it’s just that you should—”

  Jamie cut him off with another quick kiss. She wanted to hear what his last name was. But later. After they’d gotten naked and she wasn’t as likely to be adversely affected by the news that his name was something like Jack Daniels or Jack Grosse or Jack Yacks. Or something completely unpronounceable with twenty-seven letters, most of which were consonants.

  She wasn’t vain, and while a regrettable name like Jonathon Huffheimer wasn’t cause for celebration, it would never stop her from dating someone. But later. “It doesn’t matter. Not yet. Tell me later. I don’t want to talk right now. I want to go upstairs.”

  Before she lost the sassiness she seemed to have borrowed from Allison. Flattening her hands on his chest, she said, “I’m so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  But it was his eyes that closed, not hers, and his hand pressed hard into her shoulder. His lips moved as though he was counting to ten.

  Then he opened his eyes and said in a husky, urgent voice, “Then we should definitely get you right to my bed.”

  What a gentleman. Always thinking of her needs.

  “How sweet of you.”

  Chapter 5

  Sweet. Yeah, that was him.

  Hell, he was thirty seconds away from taking her in the elevator.

  Jack wondered if Jamie really understood the enormity of her appeal. She was an amazing mix of sultry and innocent, seductive and selfless. She was the sweet one. But she was also so damn sexy with her curvy hips, slow smiles, and rich, honest laugh.

  He tried to tell himself he should wait—take her out a few more times before they took it to this level—but she had seemed so damn willing. She’d even gotten impatient with his attempted confession. He hadn’t intended to tell her he knew who she was, but wanted her to figure it out on her own just by hearing his last name. But she hadn’t wanted to hear even that, and all thoughts of waiting had flown out his mental window.

  Why torture himself when she was perfectly willing to sleep with him?

  Any idiot should be able to figure that out.

  Gorgeous woman agrees to second date and hot morning sex. What do you do?

  He didn’t need his high SAT score to answer that question.

  Grab a condom and go for it.

  They were barely onto the elevator and he was licking her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth to suck gently.

  He groaned.

  She groaned.

  His hands were itching to land on her breasts, but he forced himself to take it slow.

  If ransacking her hair, grinding against her, and sliding his tongue into her mouth could be considered taking it slow.

  It took a Herculean effort to pull back.

  Then he wasn’t sure why he bothered. Jamie looked so frickin’ perky and ready, primed for him. She was breathing hard, her eyes wide, curls tumbling all over the place. Her breasts rose and fell, the flower on her shirt straining forward, its petals twining around her very obvious nipples.

  “You are so beautiful,” he panted, like a thirsty Collie.

  Without warning, or any instruction from her, his hand shot out and stroked her. Right at the tip. Of the petal.

  The sound she made was a cross between a whimper and a squeak. He took it as a good thing.

  “Jamie,” he said, trying to find some way to express himself beyond his obvious drooling in her presence. Without confessing that he had the sudden bizarre and almost frightening feeling that in the past eighteen hours he had lost his mind, his heart, his sanity.

  That it was just possible he could fall in love with her. In the next five minutes.

  Her lips parted. Her little pink tongue slipped out and moistened them, rolling around the plump flesh in a way that left Jack thinking there was a much better place she could put that.

  Damn. Shoving her against the elevator wall so he could grind his hard cock against her thighs, he buried his hands in her glorious hair. He pushed his kiss on her, a greedy, selfish kiss, tongue hot and moist and anxious inside her. Part of him knew he was being rough, but that rationale was drowned under desperate lust, under fierce need to take what Jamie had offered so sweetly.

  Before she changed her mind. Before he came to his senses and realized he could hurt her by not telling her the truth.

  That thought had him crushing her against him, consuming her mouth, wanting to keep her close. He was shocked at himself, at the irrational intensity of his feelings, at the complete impulsiveness of his actions, not a usual personality trait.

  But he was also a risk taker. As a businessman, he weighed the odds, took chances, rotated millions of dollars at the risk of losing it all, and he was good at that. He had killer instincts. And his instincts here told him, Take her, take her, take her, you’ll never regret it.

  Her fingers had risen to grip the front of his shirt, but she jerked back when the elevator opened, breaking the kiss. “I can’t breathe, Jack.” Her lips were wet and glistening, her big green eyes wide, dark.

  “Breathing’s overrated,” he told her, but he did let go of her, clench his fists, rein in his control. Counted to ten mentally. Pictured Jamie walking out if he didn’t ease up.

  But damn, it was hard when she was so near, so perfect, so ripe.

  “After you. Third door on the right.”

  She gave him a closed-lip smile over her shoulder, and with one of the hall lights blown, half her face was left in a dusky haze. Beautiful wasn’t enough to describe her, sensual an understatement. She was more than he had words for, lovelier than he could ever express.

  It only took sixty seconds to open his door, usher her in, and slam it closed. Then he was on her, cupping her face with both his hands and kissing her with everything in him.

  She gave a soft moan before lifting her arms to his shoulders, nails digging in. He moved in closer and closer, edging her feet apart with his legs, control shot to hell, the taste of her so tantalizing that he felt drunk with desire.

  He kissed her deep, hard, again and again, their mouths slapping together.
<
br />   Then her tongue slid along his lip in a sexy little lick, shocking him. Go, Jamie. He felt that show of aggression from her gave him the right to touch her breast in return.

  So he fulfilled his two-day-long fantasy by spreading his fingers over the whole of her luscious breast and cupping it. It felt better than it looked.

  It didn’t seem like that was possible, but it did.

  Her head fell back, offering an inviting view of her long, creamy neck.

  His hand still happy and full, Jack bent his head so that he could suck on her neck, pressing kisses everywhere, his tongue trailing along her clavicle. She shuddered beneath him, and he felt his own control further evaporating.

  Control? Hell, he’d lost that about the minute Jamie had collided with him on the train. He had the control of a three-year-old faced with a table full of candy and no parental supervision. None. Not a single freaking bit.

  “Am I being too rough? I’m sorry. It’s just…been a while. I’ll slow down.”

  Jamie’s hand reached up, cupped his cheek, stroked over his flesh. A nervous smile played over her lips, cherry red from his kisses. “I don’t want you to slow down. It makes me feel sexy.”

  Her cheeks stained pink.

  “You are sexy,” he said, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. “The sexiest woman I’ve ever met.” He pointed to his mouth. “I’m drooling right now as we speak.”

  She laughed, but avoided his eyes, her fingers playing with a button in the middle of his shirt. “Men usually tend to, well, see me as nurturing. Not sexy.”

  Maternal images did not flood his brain when he looked at Jamie. The exact opposite in fact. “Not this man.” There was no need to force conviction into his voice. It was ringing with it.

  Forcing himself to abandon her breasts, he gathered her to him in a reassuring embrace. Okay, so his hands wandered a little and wound up on her ass, squeezing and stroking. He was lost to all decency at this point.

  “Tell me what you like, Jamie,” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me what you want so I can do it over and over again.”

  She shivered in his arms, her breath coming in quick, staccato bursts. When she answered, it was a small, throaty whisper. “I want to feel desirable. I want it raw.”

  Holy crap. Jack about bit his tongue off. Blood rushed past his ears. When he managed to speak, his tongue was thick, words hoarse. “Raw, I can do.”

  It was a dangerous place to go, but she had nicked the last thread of his resistance. He wanted raw, too. He wanted to dive into hard, numbing pleasure and take Jamie with him. Fast and furious, slick and slap.

  So he reached forward, twisted his fingers into her neckline and ripped the front of her tank top, right through that damn flower that had been taunting him all night.

  Maybe it wasn’t smart to give Jack permission to do what he wanted with her.

  He already had her ruined shirt and unhooked bra on the floor. Another two seconds and he’d probably have her dangling on a chandelier. His mouth hovered over her nipple.

  Not that she cared much at the moment.

  “I love your breasts,” he murmured against her flesh. “I’ve wanted my mouth on them since the first second I saw you.”

  Jamie swallowed hard. Every inch of her was hot, itchy, aching to be touched. She was still reeling from her confession and wasn’t sure how to react. Since men had never really gone wild for her, she wasn’t sure how to do wild in return.

  Not that he was giving her time to do much more than moan.

  His lips brushed back and forth over her nipple in a maddening tease. Then he brought his teeth down on her, lightly, but enough to make her jump. And dang if it didn’t turn her on. Liquid pooled between her legs, and a shiver rolled through her body in a delicious wave of excitement.

  Jack hovered over her other breast, and Jamie felt his breath tease over her flesh, felt her nipple pucker under his scrutiny, felt herself edge closer to him. There was a slight pause of hovering anticipation, then he sort of attacked her, sucking and licking, nipping and pulling while Jamie’s breasts tingled and ached.

  “Oh, mercy,” she whispered, groping blindly for the wall, furniture, anything that could hold her up because her legs were doing the noodle number again.

  “No. No mercy,” he said, voice hoarse. And as if to prove his point, his finger slid along the seam of her jeans, pressing into her tender flesh, working front to back, front to back, while he pursed his lips and blew a hot stream over her wet nipples.

  Well, she’d asked for it. She’d always wondered what it would be like to have a man go at her like a shark with bait, like he had to have her now, damn it, and nothing could stop him. She had never drawn that kind of lust from men—they’d always treated her gently, protectively, which was all fine and good for the most part. She wanted men to respect her, but it would be nice to know she made a man lose all control once in a while.

  This was losing control.

  Her eyelids sank closed, her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she enjoyed the scrape and slide of Jack’s fingers over her body, wishing her jeans would suddenly evaporate. Skin tingling, nipples taut and aching, Jamie felt each lick and stroke over every inch of her body. Her head swam, lust and lack of sleep making her dizzy.

  Jack’s mouth lifted from her breast. “We need to get to a bed. Now.”

  She nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see her since he was back to doing a little lick-suck thing with his tongue over her nipple. “Yes. Okay. Now. Definitely. Ooh, yes, that feels good.”

  He stopped, damn it. Standing, he wiped his hand over his shiny lips and said, “Take my shirt off.”

  Now that he mentioned it, he was really overdressed next to her. She was wearing jeans and sandals and nothing on top.

  Fingers shaking a little, she reached out and touched the top button. “Okay.” Then jumped when his thumb pinched her nipple and his tongue slid into her ear. Her shoulders went slack, her jeans suddenly way too hot. My, oh my, the man knew how to work his tongue.

  She got the first button on his shirt undone, but the second proved to be made of sterner stuff. It slipped and caught and eluded her while she tried to work it over and over, Jack plucking her like a harp in a very distracting way.

  Oh, yeah, she was hot stuff. A real sex goddess. She couldn’t even get him halfway out of his shirt. She was reduced to prying at it, clawing and pulling to try and remove it.

  “Rip it,” he said, nipping at her earlobe.

  Rip it? There was a thought. A wild girl would go for it.

  But the only thing wild about her was her hair. Jamie gripped the shirt, hesitating like she did when it was time to remove the eyebrow wax strip.

  “Rip it. Get me naked, Jamie.” Jack stepped back a foot. “Do it, damn it. I’m dying.”

  He did look like he was in danger of agonizing death. Compassion forced her into action. Not to mention she really did want to see him without a shirt. She gripped the fabric tightly dead center and just pulled it apart in both directions, buttons flying off.

  Dang, look at her. Arms out, legs spread, yanking Jack’s shirt open, her breasts bouncing with the movement.

  She felt kind of sassy. As she pushed his shirt down over his hard, muscular shoulders, she told him, “I’ll sew all your buttons back on, don’t worry.”

  He stood very still, eyes half closed as she ran her curious fingers over his chest, tracing the lines and brushing over the dusting of hair.

  “You’d do that for me?”

  Letting his shirt drop to the floor, Jamie brushed her lips over his clavicle. “Sure thing.” She couldn’t ruin something without at least trying to fix it.

  “Will you let me take your jeans off?”

  “Yes.” Her heart started to beat a little faster.

  “Will you let me take your panties off?” Jack’s finger traced along the crotch of her jeans.

  “Yes.” She shivered at the light, teasing touch.

  “Will you let me put m
y tongue inside you?”

  Somehow she didn’t think he meant in her mouth. The area he did mean was hot and moist in anticipation. Jamie nodded, afraid she’d squeak if she tried to speak.

  His expression was puzzled, his eyes dark, voice quiet. While one hand stroked between her thighs, almost absently, as though he’d forgotten what he was doing, the other tugged a curl down to her breast, let it spring back up.

  “Do you feel it, Jamie? This connection between us. Am I crazy? Should we stop here?”

  And suffer the consequences of unsatisfied lust? No, thank you.

  “I feel it, too,” she said, afraid if she didn’t reassure him, he’d have second thoughts. “That’s why I’m here with you, not wearing a top. I don’t sleep with men I’ve just met, Jack, but I feel that connection with you. And I’m willing to listen to it.” She was absolutely convinced she wouldn’t regret it.

  “I’ve never believed in fate, or love at first sight, or anything that couldn’t be planned or quantified first. I’m not an impulsive man.” He shook his head, a wry grin on his face. “Until now. Until you, Jamie Lynn.”

  He was playing with her nipple, rolling and touching and twisting, while his other hand continued its exploration of the inside of her thighs.

  “Well, for a man without a lot of experience, you’re doing a darn good job.”

  He laughed and let go of her, which was a huge disappointment. All that touching was torture, but only in the best way.

  “I feel like you don’t judge me…I feel a freedom with you that I can never have in my career or with my family. Like I can make an ass out of myself and you wouldn’t care.”

  “I wouldn’t care,” she said, touched that he could understand that about her. Pleased that he felt like he could be himself with her.

  “I just want to have fun with you.”

  No arguments from her. “I think I can work that into my schedule.”

  “Good.” Turning his bare back to her, Jack said, “Hop on my back and I’ll give you a pony ride to the bedroom.”

  Lord, was he serious? Jump on his back topless? She wasn’t sure she was that much fun. And his voice didn’t sound goofy, it sounded suggestive and…kinky. Jamie didn’t have a lot of personal contact with kinky. She wasn’t sure it was in her genetic coding.