Light Me Up

by Isabel Sharpe

  Except... He imagined Melissa pregnant with a junior version of Jack, or a junior version of herself, a beautiful blond baby girl with her mother’s blue eyes. Even while his heart softened, his body started to sweat. This had to stop.

  “I have something to tell you.” She drew a line down his chest with a slender finger.

  “What’s that?” Even though her playful tone told him nothing serious was coming, his gut tensed.

  “I’ve been naughty, Jack.” She turned to straddle him on her knees, her black knit miniskirt stretching and lifting to give him a cock-hardening view of her long, smooth thighs.

  He hid a grin under a pretend scowl. In this arena, he had no complaints about his feelings for Melissa. His desire for her was pure, simple and incredibly strong. “What have you done?”

  Melissa put her mouth next to his ear to whisper, “I never put my underpants back on.”

  Jack groaned and swept his hands up her thighs, bare all the way to that gorgeous firm ass that drove him wild. “No, you didn’t.”

  With a tug she pulled off her shirt, unhooked her bra and tossed it over her shoulder. Topless, with the skirt barely covering her, she was every man’s fantasy. He wanted to pull her close, hold her, feel the soft warmth of her breasts against him. He wanted it too much. Too possessively.

  “Do you think I need punishment, Jack?”

  “Yes.” He lifted her leg, slid out from under her and turned her so she was on her hands and knees facing away from him, relieved to have this game to play. With flying fingers, he unsnapped and unzipped his pants, pulled his erection free. “I think you do.”

  “Oh, goody.” She giggled, and sent him a sultry look over her shoulder. “I was hoping.”

  “No laughing. This punishment is serious business.” He took a moment just to look at her strong thighs, at the black horizontal hem of her skirt, which clung to her hips and buttocks as if it was as infatuated with them as he was. He placed both hands on her thighs just under the hem and slowly pushed upwards, exposing her to him, the beautiful rounded slope of her bottom.

  Mine.

  The word came without his permission. He didn’t question it now, that would come later. He simply bent forward, inhaling her light feminine scent, relishing her gasp of surprise and pleasure.

  “Oh, Jack.”

  Oh, Melissa.

  He covered her bottom with his palms, then lightened his touch with one hand to nearly nothing, traveling in lazy tickling circles.

  A small gasp, then she grew statue-still. “I’ve never...mmm.” Her breath came out in a sigh of ecstasy. “That is really...nice, Jack.”

  “Good.” He felt pride, caveman ownership, in showing her this new source of pleasure. And with that pride came a fierce, deep tenderness he didn’t want to feel.

  “I’d like something else now.” Her voice was breathlessly sexy.

  “Mmm?”

  “You. Inside me.” Her body tensed. “I mean the old-fashioned way.”

  He chuckled and kissed both of her beautiful rounded cheeks. “I can do that.”

  “Oh, thank you, Jack.” She twisted to give him a mock humble look. “I so appreciate it.”

  He laughed and got on his knees, put on one of the condoms he had stashed around the apartment for convenience and laid an affectionate hand on her back. He loved that they could be like this, that sex wasn’t all earnest and animal between them, but had moods and rhythms that were constantly changing.

  “Wait, did you mean now?” He took hold of his penis, rubbed its hard tip against the part of her he’d left warm and wet. “You wanted me inside you now?”

  “Yes.” She arched, pushed her hips back toward him. “Now. Please.”

  “You’re sure?” He spread her labia with his free hand, loving the pink winged look they took on, and pushed himself slowly in. He pulled back when he needed to, then continued, closing his eyes, concentrating on the sensation of her warmth gripping him, taking in her gasps and moans of pleasure. For a second he held still, inside her to the hilt, lightly holding her hips.

  Melissa.

  She waited, head tipped up, hair cascading over her shoulders. Then turned. Their eyes met. He wanted to pull out, take her face in his hands and kiss her mouth, turn her so they lay face to face, make love to her, watch her eyes change, darken, her head moving from side to side, her lips parting with the pleasure he was giving her. He wanted to be there, joined to her when she came. He wanted to catch her breath in his mouth, hear her cry out as the orgasm peaked, be there to support her as she came down, hold her in his arms and keep her safe, keep her his for the rest of their—

  No.

  He pulled halfway out, tightened his grip on her skin and pushed home, hard. He heard her grunt in what might have been pain, pleasure or both, his fingers digging into her flesh as he moved inside her with powerful, angry thrusts, skin slapping skin, his jaw tight, teeth clenched, breath hissing through them. Over and over, he buried himself in her body, blocking out emotions, blocking out thoughts, just feeling, just being.

  Melissa braced herself against the armrest of the couch, lowered her head, shoulder muscles straining, breasts bouncing forward and back as she absorbed the impact.

  He closed his mind to her, to her vulnerability, to what she must be thinking of his virtual attack on her. He thought only of what his body wanted, to dominate, to subjugate—not her, but the demons inside him that would only be satisfied when she totally and thoroughly belonged to him.

  Nature took over, brought him to the brink much faster than he usually allowed it to. He pushed on, quickening his pace, sofa scraping the floor, guttural sounds escaping his throat, dimly aware that Melissa was twisting oddly, supporting herself only on one arm now.

  He should stop.

  He had to stop. If he was hurting her...

  She was so tight, so hot, he was so close.

  One push, another, and the wave caught up with him, pulled him under, tumbled him over and over and over; he was barely aware of Melissa yelling, then the wave receded, left him washed up, panting, bent over her rigid, trembling body.

  What had he done to her?

  “Melissa.”

  “Yes.” She was out of breath, shaking now, muscles still locked as if she thought he’d be slamming into her again at any moment.

  Shame set in. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “Yes. Yes. I’m fine.” She straightened painfully, rotated her left shoulder.

  Jack pulled out of her, sank back onto the couch, yanked his pants the rest of the way off, grabbed a tissue and took care of the condom without looking at her face. Without being able to. “Come here.”

  She waddled over awkwardly on her knees, sank onto his lap, laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, rocked her gently. “I’m sorry I was so—”

  What could he say. Brutal? Punishing?

  “Hot?” She turned her face up to his, looking a bit dazed, but smiling sweetly. “Sexy? I don’t think I’ve come that hard ever. I hope your neighbors didn’t call the police. Talk about yelling bloody murder.”

  He blinked. Stared at her.

  Then realization struck. When he thought she was twisting in pain, she was straining down to touch herself, to bring herself off.

  “You came?”

  “Uh...yeah? You didn’t hear me?” She laughed, flushed, glowing, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “I’m surprised your windows are intact.”

  Jack moved without knowing he was going to, kissed her over and over, grabbed another condom from the coffee-table drawer, tumbled her back onto the couch, covering her body with his, matching her—face, chest, groin, thigh, toe—the way he’d wanted to before and didn’t have the nerve. She opened her legs and he was between them, hard again already.

  This time, no banging, no assault. He was gentle, sweet, kissing her leisurely, making love to her slowly, experiencing her, eyes, lips, hair, skin, taking his own pleasure, aware of her response as muc
h as his own every time he moved inside her. No hurry, no urgency, they had all the time in the world alone with each other.

  He loved her.

  The certainty made him close his eyes, started his body tensing.

  “Jack,” she whispered. She touched his face, stroked his cheek, ran a sweet fingertip over his forehead.

  He opened his eyes to the truth in hers.

  She loved him.

  Fear warred with passion; he tunneled his arms underneath her, pulled her closer still, and brought them both slowly to climaxes that were torn from them, that shot them up and held them together, then let them down gently, a bit at a time.

  Fear pushed hard. Was that love? Shooting you to heights then letting you down?

  He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent, telling himself to stay calm, not to go mental. Telling himself to have the balls to stay with her, to find out if this would last, when an increasingly large part of him was yelling, “Ditch her, run, stay safe.” The same emotions his father must have felt. The same claustrophobia: both loving and hating his emotions, rejecting and embracing them. No wonder his dad drank. No wonder he self-destructed. No wonder he ran.

  Jack rolled to the side, pulled Melissa against him, rested his hand over his eyes. He’d thought he could put her in a photographic box and she’d busted it wide-open, changing his pictures and him. He’d thought he could control his emotions, keep them stuffed down and unthreatening, and she’d turned them loose to a degree he hadn’t believed himself capable of.

  “Mmm. That was so nice, Jack.” She stretched luxuriously. “It was different. So slow and lovely.”

  He raised her hand to his lips, kissed it, laced their fingers. “You hungry?”

  “Almost.” She smiled dreamily at him. “A few more minutes. I’m so relaxed.”

  “How’s the blood pressure these days?”

  “Perfectly normal. You’ve been so good for me.” She squeezed his hand, nestled her head more comfortably on his chest and yawned. “My sister says I’m unrecognizable.”

  “And...that’s good?”

  Melissa giggled. “She thinks so. By the way, Dad won’t dance, so at her wedding, Gretchen wants us to come onto the floor after she and Ted start their first dance, to get everyone else to join in.”

  “Uh...” Jack wasn’t sure he’d processed that correctly. “I’m working her wedding.”

  “Right. But just the ceremony and formal photos.”

  “I know, but it’s not like I’m going.” He watched her beaming expression fade into bemusement. This was exactly what he’d worried about. His mistake for not bringing it up sooner and making sure their roles at this event were clearly defined.

  “Not going?” She lifted her head. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not going as a guest. We agreed I’d work, and that was it.”

  “Jack.” Obviously he was making as much sense to her as she was to him. “We’re both invited. We’re sitting at the head table. And we’ll be the first ones out dancing after Gretchen and Ted. What did you think—I’d make you eat in the kitchen?”

  He stared at her, feeling his own blood pressure rising. “Melissa, we only agreed that I’d work this wedding.”

  “You said that, Jack.” She struggled to sit up. He followed suit. “This is about something else, isn’t it?”

  She was no dummy. He owed her an explanation. Something besides I love you and it scares the crap out of me. “Melissa, I’m sorry, I don’t see that we have a go-to-weddings-together relationship.”

  Melissa looked around as if trying to find the spaceship he’d flown in on. He didn’t blame her. He was talking like an idiot. “Jack, what the hell is a go-to-weddings relationship?”

  “Uh...” He attacked his hair again. “You know, a boyfriend-and-girlfriend relationship. The whole marriage track.”

  God, what was he saying? Wasn’t that what he felt for her?

  Yes, but only half of him. A half that was rapidly shrinking in the face of panic.

  “Jack.” She was looking at him as if he’d just told her he could see dead people. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been having sex pretty constantly for the past few weeks. I don’t think it was really weird of me to assume we’d hang out at the wedding together when you’ve finished shooting. And I don’t see what is so threatening about eating lasagna next to me and swaying on the dance floor for five minutes to help out my sister.”

  Christ. This was getting worse and worse. She was making perfect sense. All he had to counter with was his fear and his gut certainty that he couldn’t put on a suit and sit through a wedding reception as her date with all of Melissa’s family and friends there. Rational? No, not entirely. But there was no way.

  “I’m sorry, Melissa.” He hated how he sounded, hated the hurt on her face, but if he said he’d be happy to go with her, he’d be lying to them both. “It’s just not something I can do.”

  Her breath caught. She rolled off the couch and stood to face him, arms folded across her chest. “What are you really saying here, Jack? That I’m not your girlfriend or going to be your girlfriend? That I don’t belong with you? After we just made love the way we did, you can say that?”

  She didn’t understand. “We’ve had a lot of fun. A lot. But I’m not ready to play husband to you at some formal function like it’s our—”

  “Husband?” She was incredulous. “I’m sorry, did I ask you to marry me? Because I don’t remember that at all.”

  He got off the couch, strode to the other side of the room, took deep breaths to cool off. “Look, Melissa. Here’s what it is. We’re at this point where you’re starting to want more and I’m starting to want less. I’ve been at this point many times, and I know—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, spare me the you’re-just-like-all-the-others bullshit. That isn’t true and you know it.” She unfolded her arms, stalked across the room and got right into his face, topless and sexy as hell in the black miniskirt with fire shooting out of her eyes. Even now he wanted to back her against the wall and take her again. “There is something special between us, which I am no longer afraid of. If you are, there’s nothing I can do about that. If you won’t go to the wedding with me, fine, but don’t you dare start acting like some big sex god who made yet another girl fall out of her depth with him.”

  Jack clenched his jaw hard. Closed his eyes, trying to control his temper, collect his thoughts. Breathing. Thinking. Controlling.

  He opened them. Melissa hadn’t moved. “You’re right. What we have is special. And you’re also right that I’m afraid of it. But that isn’t going to change. So I leave it to you. Either you take me as I am, one day at a time, no guarantees, no commitment, or we quit now. I’ll photograph your sister’s wedding because I said I would and because I want to. But I’m leaving the suit at home, and I’m checking out after the pictures are done. If you want to see me after that, you can call me anytime and I’ll be really happy to hear from you.”

  He could swear she’d stopped breathing, seemed about to collapse in on herself. It was agony.

  Then she straightened, swallowed and nodded. “Fair enough, Jack. I don’t see the point of me pretending I’m not falling in love with you. So if you can’t handle that I will go find someone who can.”

  She grabbed her bra, flung her shirt back over her head, stepped into her sandals...

  And was gone.

  13

  Blood Pressure: High Normal

  “HI, I’M GEORGINA, from the sales office downstairs. Can I talk to you for a second?”

  Melissa looked up from the file of a new hire in Chicago. She remembered Georgina, administrative assistant for the department. A tall slender woman with short side-parted hair and a tattooed bracelet on her upper arm. “Hi, Georgina, good to see you. Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” She walked in rather furtively, and shut the door behind her, took a seat and trapped her hands between her knees. “Um. I’m here about Bob. Bob S
toker.”

  “Right.” Melissa closed the file and pushed her chair back. Uh-oh. She hoped this wouldn’t end up looking bad for Bob and good for Mary Jo. The more she thought about the duo, neither whom she’d want for best friends, the more she suspected Mary Jo and the less she suspected Bob. “How can I help?”

  “Thing is, I’ve worked with Bob here for about a year. One of my girlfriends, Patty, used to work in the Minneapolis office with him.”

  “Oh, yes, I think I met her when I was on a trip out there last summer.” Melissa forced her voice and manner to be calm, but her heart rate and no doubt her blood pressure were high and climbing. She’d barely made it into work that morning after a night spent productively curled into a ball either crying or staring at the wall.

  “Patty and I were talking last night. And we agreed I should come in today and talk to you. About Bob.”

  “Okay.” Melissa folded her hands on the desk, looking as friendly and approachable as she knew how. Not as if her life was burying her in an avalanche of goat poo. “Go ahead.”

  Georgina laughed nervously. “Actually this is kind of scary. We’re a little afraid for our jobs.”

  “You have nothing to be afraid of. You can’t be fired for telling the truth.” She wished that were true. Melissa wouldn’t be doing the firing, but sometimes the truth could piss people off in positions higher up than hers.

  “Well, I don’t know about that. Because we know it’s the truth, but we might not be able to convince other people.”

  Melissa’s knee started jiggling. Just say it. “Please go ahead. Hearing the truth is very important to me. And I’m sure it’s important for Bob that this situation gets cleared up.”

  “Okay.” She scratched her cheek, looking more fourteen that twenty-something. “Well, Bob is a really great guy. But he...he’s sort of into himself.”

  “Go on.”

  “And he’s gorgeous, and he’s kind of a character. So he gets into these situations where because of his ego and his way of...I don’t know, I guess putting himself out there, women think...they think he’s sort of inviting something, and so the more aggressive ones get him in trouble. Because, really, he wouldn’t want to do anything with any of them. I can promise you that.”