by Carrie Kelly
His thumb caressed my cheek and a smile lit his eyes. "Looks like we need a place to clean up, Mattie."
"You don't have to remind me how terrible I look," I muttered.
His eyes widened. "Not at all, love. You’re beautiful as always, if a little messier than usual."
Before I replied a man approached us and said something in Thai. Jack squeezed my shoulder as he responded, and I watched the wedding procession saunter passed us. Everyone looked so happy – faces beaming and bodies draped in fine embroidered silk. My wedding dress sat back at my apartment in Manhattan collecting dust.
I may never get to use it now.
Then Jack kissed my temple and the misery of my former life faded. "Come on. We've been invited to the wedding."
"What? Are we going to wash up first?"
"Might as well wait until tonight," he said. "Aren't you hungry?"
The rumble in my stomach answered for me. "We aren’t dressed for a wedding, “ I said and glanced down at my dirt-ridden outfit. Jack hadn't fared much better. "And what about – you know?"
Jack draped a strong arm around my shoulder. "For one, it'll look suspicious if we say no. Live a little, love."
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I nodded. Jack knew what he was doing. He was a spy. I had to trust him – there was no other choice. Without him, I'd be helpless, lost and most likely dead.
Joy radiated from the reception patio. Everything, tables and awning included, was draped in gold embroidered silk. Tables lined with delectable food sat on display and my mouth watered. How long had it been since breakfast? Too long, as far as my stomach was concerned.
We ate marvelous food, a collection of rice and noodle dishes, and watched the cheerful goings on. Even though I didn't understand the language, happiness is clear in every culture.
Jack leaned back in his chair, his arm resting casually on my thigh. For all the world he looked relaxed, but I noticed a tense wariness in his sharp eyes. He watched the crowd for signs of our attackers, his body poised to defend us.
Before I realized it, lamps sprung to life and the delightful discord of foreign music started. His grip on my thigh loosened, and he grabbed my hand instead.
"Dance with me, Mattie," he whispered and his breath tickled my ear.
Before I answered, he pulled me to my feet and onto the dance floor. Strong arms encompassed me in their protective hold, fingers digging into my sensitive flesh.
Is this what my first wedding dance would've been like? Well, not with Steven. He had two left feet!
Jack glided across the dance floor smoothly, and I smiled as my former theater training kicked in.
"Do you remember the last time we danced?" he asked and dipped me so low I grasped his shoulder to keep from falling.
My cheeks burned. "Senior prom. You remember?"
His lips slid into an easy smile. "How could I forget, love? You looked like an angel that night – just like you do now."
I shook my head, remembering the pale pink nightmare of a dress. "No, Jack. That frilly thing was awful. It was my first time making a ball gown, and it didn't work."
"It worked for me," he said and gripped me tighter.
My heart pounded against his powerful muscles, and I fought to ignore the heat pooling between my thighs. "Plus, Billy Sanders stood me up that night."
His lips burned against my forehead. "I know. Why do you think I went to your prom to begin with?"
Leaning back, I looked up at him. "You said you wanted to relive your senior year."
When I said it out loud I realized how stupid it sounded. He'd been a sophomore in college at the time, why would he want to come back to high school? College was much cooler than hanging out with a bunch of teenagers. Why did I believe it back then?
He laughed. "I only said that because I knew you wouldn't go with me if I asked. To be honest, I was happy Billy stood you up. Happy you were mine for the night."
The humid air caught in my throat, and I buried my head in his shoulder. How could I respond to that? A mixture of fury and desire surged through my veins at his confession. It was over ten years ago Matilda, it doesn't mean anything now.
"It seems like I can't meet a man willing to stick around,” I mumbled.
A strong hand caught my chin and forced my head back. His lips were mere inches from mine, so close they nearly brushed. "I'm here, Mattie. I've always been here."
My stomach fluttered, and I pulled my chin out of his hand. Why did he have to say things like that when they weren't true?
"You haven't lived in New York for the past eight years,” I reminded him.
A muscle tensed in his jaw. "My work keeps me busy. But I always come back to see you and Cheryl."
Great. Now he put me in the same category as his sister!
"Look, it's getting late," I said and pulled out of his arms.
His fingers and palms trailed over my skin, but he relinquished his hold with a sigh.
"You're right. We should go to our room."
We walked through the town in silence, our feet kicking up clouds of dust in the twilight. Most of the wooden structures were raised on stilted legs for to avoid floods come monsoon season, their shuttered windows and thatched roofs simple and functional. We climbed the steps to our motel room, and Jack unlocked the door and flipped on the light. Then something fast and pale scurried across the wooden walls – several somethings.
Shrieking, I pointed a shaking finger. "What was that?"
Jack raised an eyebrow and chuckled at my reaction. "Geckos, love. They eat the bugs."
Okay. We were in the subtropics, and Thailand had different insects then New York. Hell, I grew up in a city famous for giant roaches – but we didn't have lizards crawling across our walls!
"What kind of bugs?" I asked and stepped tentatively into our room. It was small with a double bed and bathroom. At least it had a bathroom.
"All sorts. Mosquitoes, roaches and whatever else they can find. Not as scary as anything from my home country," he said with a wink.
The geckos weren't overly large, maybe four to five inches in length. I’d ignore them as long as they didn’t crawl on me.
"I'm going to take a shower," I said and hurried into the bathroom.
Good. Gecko free.
Like the bathroom at his place it was a tiled room with a showerhead and toilet. I stripped off my clothes and draped them over the railing. Cold water flowed from the faucet when I turned it on, so I waited. And waited. And waited, but it didn't get any warmer. Not only was I tired and naked. Now I had to take a cold shower.
But you're alive, Matilda. And Jack's there to help. Jack. Dammit.
I creaked open the bathroom door and peeked into our room. "The water doesn't heat up, does it?" I asked.
Jack sat in the only chair, his shirt discarded next to our meager pile of luggage. His golden skin taut over his powerful muscular form. Just looking at him assaulted my body with lust.
The secretive smirk spread across his lips. "In a moment, love."
Before I asked what he meant, someone knocked at our room. I pulled the bathroom door shut and took a deep breath.
A cold shower it is.
Right before I stepped under the icy stream, Jack burst into the room. I covered my breasts and mound as best I could, frowning under the flickering fluorescent lights. Talk about unflattering!
"Why can't you knock?” I demanded.
He held up a large steaming basin and set it on the bathroom floor. "Because I got this, and I intend to use it.”
Without shutting the door, he slipped his pants down his slender hips, revealing the brown curls and glorious length of his cock. My heart quickened as his muscular thighs and sculpted calves stepped free of the material. The side of his taut ass was visible as he nudged the basin across the floor.
Fuck me. He looked like some kind of god.
Without a word he took a washcloth and dipped it in the hot water, rubbing it with a fresh bar of soa
p. His eyes met mine, a hungry desire shining from them.
I backed into the cold tile wall, and my breath caught in my throat.
"Trying to run away, love?" he asked and moved towards me.
"No, but I prefer to bathe by myself!" I said and squared my shoulders although my skin flushed. In the light he could see every bulge, ripple and dimple I tried to hide. Wonderful.
Jack leaned into me, trapping me between his powerful arms. Taking the washcloth, he gently rubbed it across my dirt-smeared cheek. "Well, I'm going to bathe you this time, Mattie."
"But –"
His lips cut me off, their searing heat silencing me. Moaning into the kiss, butterflies fluttered in my stomach as my pussy wept for his touch.
No. I needed to resist this. Fisting my hands at my sides, I leaned into the chilly tile for support instead of grabbing onto him.
Pulling back, he smiled. "It’s not up for discussion, love."
He dipped the cloth again and brought it to my face, scrubbing it over my shoulders, arms and chest. The warm water soothed my aching muscles as his gentle caresses enticed my body with need. I squeezed my eyes shut – looking at him wouldn’t help matters – it would only make me want him more.
Calloused fingers danced across my breasts, the heat of the cloth almost unbearable against my feverish flesh. Taking a deep breath, I tried to bury the moan begging to escape my throat. Each stroke existed somewhere between gentle and rough – the slight scratch of the cloth, his scolding fingers and shivers of passion that danced across my skin at his every touch.
Tentatively, I opened my eyes. Jack knelt on the tile before me, the washcloth gripped loosely in his hands as he scrubbed my stomach with delicate grace. I didn’t want to see the look of disgust in his eyes, but I couldn’t turn away from his bent head – the way his newly dark hair tickled the edge of his golden neck.
After a dip into the hot basin, he slipped the cloth over my skin until my body was rich with soap suds, glistening and clean.
“Turn around, love,” he breathed, and I obeyed.
Work rough hands smoothed over my back. His calloused fingers pressing into my tense muscles with perfect accuracy. I rested my palms and forehead against the cool tile wall, willing myself to relax and drink in the moment.
Jack’s bathing you, Tilda. This is a once in a lifetime experience!
But my fears and self-esteem, or lack there of, wouldn’t let me.
And he’s looking at you – judging you -- just like Steven did.
Then he took my shoulders and turned me around, placing the washcloth in my hand. “I’ll let you finish up,” he said with a delectable smirk.
My cheeks were so flushed he probably didn’t notice my blush. “Are you going to watch?”
“Do you want me to, Mattie?”
“You – you drive me crazy, Jack! Can’t you take the slightest hint?” I grumbled and threw the cloth at his face. It landed with a satisfying splat, the soapy material slipping over his skin.
Gapping, I put my hand to my mouth. Why didn’t he catch the damn thing?
For a moment it was so quiet the sound of buzzing fluorescent lights and the creak of insects in the jungle filled the air. Jack broke the silence with a rich rumble of laughter. His chest shook with it, and he pulled the cloth from his face and rubbed if over his own body.
“If you insist. I guess I’ll have to stay.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”
“Well, maybe I pick up hints you don’t realize you’re dropping,” he said.
What should I say to that? Picking up the soap, I finished bathing and turned on the shower. At least the cold water cleared my desire filled mind, chilled my lust hot body – if just for a moment.
“What hints?” I finally asked and grabbed my towel.
Jack caught my hand before I wrapped it around my dripping body. “This,” he groaned, and ran a finger over the slick heat of my sex.
I bit my bottom lip, but the gasp escaped my mouth regardless. How’d he do that to me with one caress?
“You give into me every time, Mattie. Your body comes alive with the slightest touch no matter what you say. Even your lips love me – why does the rest of you resist?”
“It’s not a good idea, Jack. You’re a – you know – and I’m still getting over Steven so --” Whatever I was going to say died in my throat.
Jack’s sharp blue eyes bored into me. His soap slick flesh, mere inches from mine, radiated passion so scorching it burned.
How could I stand up to him when he looked at me like that?
“This has nothing to do with my job or your ex-fiancé and you know it, Mattie. No matter what I do, you pull away from me. Always. Why?”
“Shouldn’t you rinse off?” I whispered.
Something flashed across his face in that moment. Hurt? Annoyance? I couldn’t tell.
His eyes narrowed and he pushed me against the wall, knocking the breath from my lungs. “Don’t change the subject. Tell me why you push me away. Tell me you don’t want me.”
Sizzling lips brushed mine, his thick forefinger dancing across my clit with velvet smooth motions. The walls of my pussy ached for his entrance, my breasts heaving into his solid chest. The fat head of his engorged cock pressed into my lower stomach, and I balled my hands into fists to keep from touching it.
I gasped into his mouth. His name rose unbidden to my lips. “Jack. I – I --”
I can’t say it! I thought and squeezed my eyes shut.
Suddenly, his finger slid off my sex and his lips kissed mine with the tenderness butterfly wings, and he stepped back.
“Dry off and get in bed, love.”
Staring at him, I fought for something to say – something to make the moment right, but nothing came. Tears threatened the corners of my eyes as I bundled up my towel and hurried out of the room.
First Steven now this. No wonder you can’t keep a man, Tilda!
Not only that, but I didn’t have a damn thing to wear to bed. After drying off, I draped the towel over the chair and climbed under the covers. The hot night air hung about the room, similar to my mood, but I wasn’t about to push back the thin cotton sheet. It was all I had to protect me from Jack’s judgment.
Why did I push him away? Jerk! Why did he insist on fucking around with my heart? He was smart, athletic, a goddamn spy! Why would Jack want me – Fattie Mattie?
He wouldn’t. Whatever game he played was probably an effort to make me feel better. Make me believe other men would desire me after Steven left so suddenly. Maybe that was true, but Jack wasn’t one of them.
I’d almost drifted off to sleep when he came out of the bathroom, turned out the dim light and climbed into the bed next to me. His fingers brushed the hair from my cheek, and I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to avoid another confrontation.
“I’m sorry I pushed you, love,” he said and buried his lips in my neck. The rough edge of his cheek scratched my jaw and shoulder as he pulled my naked body flush with his.
“Jack what are you doing?” I moaned and tried to suck in my stomach as best I could.
That’s not going to work, Tilda! I told myself, but I couldn’t help the urge.
“I’m holding you,” he whispered as his hands brushed over my full breasts.
I opened my mouth to argue, but a gasp escaped my lips instead. He was playing offense on my body. His fingers pinched delicately at my hardened nipples as the thick length of his bulge dug into my backside.
“You don’t have to,” I breathed as he suckled on my neck. Every swirl of his tongue awoke my senses, filled my veins with heady desire.
“Shut the hell up, Mattie. I want to. Why can’t you accept that?” he growled and grabbed my sex with a gruff hand.
His forceful touch spread my thighs, an eager finger dipping between my lips and fondling the velvet folds of my clit with a determination I’d never experienced. Then the blunt head of his cock slipped into me from behind, sliding between
my legs and nudging at my pussy.
“Jack,” I groaned and gripped onto the sheets, balling the material in my fists.
He entered me with a swift thrust – his heat throbbing inside my tight walls. The scratchy warmth of his balls pressed into my ass as I pooled in his arms, helpless against the passion that consumed me when we touched.
“Ah, I love how you feel, Mattie. I love every inch of you.”
Why couldn’t I believe him?
A strong hand turned my head, and his mouth nipped at mine. Our lips smoldering together as he shoved his length, balls deep, into me. His other hand circled my swollen clit, again and again, as I writhed in his powerful grasp.
My chest heaved with each breath. A gasp escaped my throat at every urgent entrance. The tumescent shaft slammed into me – arousal rising across my flesh like static electricity. It surged through the air, gathered on our skin and radiated around the room in a chorus of moans.
His tongue probed my mouth, and mine flicked out to meet it. My hips swiveled in time with his. His ironclad cock thundered into my sex; filling me to the brim with everything I ever wanted. Almost everything.
He doesn’t love you, Tilda. He never could.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the negative thoughts and leaned back into the thick muscles of his chest. Jack’s heart pounded against my back, mirroring the hammering of my own. His free hand groped my body, caressing my needy breasts and settling on my waist.
Faster and faster his finger stroked my mound, urging me closer to the luscious destination. Lips trailed over my shoulders, scorching my skin, and I bit my tongue to keep from saying his name.
God I wanted to say his name!
Then he gripped me tighter as we rode the wave into our mutual pleasure. The orgasm slammed into us at almost the exact same moment. Jack’s seed, slick and warm, burst inside my gripping pussy. I twitched and groaned, my walls grasping at the turgid length as it spilt its load.
The electric surge of lust sparked and sizzled – every nerve in my body exploded with dangerous passion.
He buried his rough cheek into my neck, the heavy panting of his breath sizzling across my sweat slick skin. “Oh, Mattie. You’re wonderful, love. So wonderful.”
