Red Letter Nights

by Alison Kent; Karen Anders; Jeanie London

  The day turned out to be very hectic, and at two o’clock in the afternoon, the radio announcer broke into a lively Waylon Thibodeaux song with a newsflash. There was a robbery in progress at the MLS Bank and Trust downtown and shots had been fired. The announcer went on to report that the police had surrounded the bank trapping the robbers inside.

  Chloe stopped stirring the jambalaya she was cooking for dinner, her heart in her throat. She felt edgy and scared, but she had a sense that not all her feelings were her own. It happened in a split second, and she couldn’t be totally sure.

  As the afternoon wore on, and in between serving customers and cooking, Chloe caught snatches of newscasts as reporters broke into the lively Cajun music with other bulletins. It seemed the bank robbers had taken hostages and had barricaded themselves inside the bank. At the moment it was a standoff. The announcer reported that a hostage negotiator had been called in.

  She wondered about Jack and the on-again, off-again feelings of jagged fear and gut-tightening pressure that had plagued her all day.

  By the end of the day, Chloe, exhausted, left the café and immediately noticed that her red envelope was still tacked up on his door. Uneasy with the turn of events, Chloe went into her town house and tried to keep herself busy. Giving up at nine o’clock, she turned on the news to find there had been no progress in the hostage-taking.

  When she went to bed, the situation was still the same. She thought about Jack and the stress he must be under every day at work. It didn’t surprise her that he looked so haunted. She said a silent prayer for him and drifted off to sleep.

  In the morning, before Chloe went to work, she checked the news and discovered that the hostage situation had lasted through the night and now was in its second day.

  While working, Chloe listened to the radio, but nothing changed, nor had it changed by the time she walked up to her town house that night, and she went to bed worrying about Jack again.

  JACK MASSAGED his lower back as he walked past Café Eros, the smell of crawfish stew hung in the air along with the yeasty smell of rolls. His stomach rumbled with hunger. A balmy breeze tousled his hair and the billowing curtains from Chloe’s bedroom windows looked ghostly in the moonlight. His back was stiff from the hours he’d stood outside the bank trying to talk to panicked robbers bent on escape. He’d kept them busy while, only hours ago, S.W.A.T. had successfully taken them down without losing one hostage. Adrenaline from the rescue still pumped through his veins. Jack knew how easily things could go wrong when negotiating with desperate people.

  From several yards away, he saw the red envelope hanging on his door with another Santa tack. Suddenly his weariness disappeared and he reached out for the envelope. He brought the paper to his nose and breathed deep. This time there was no mistaking the heady perfume. It was Chloe’s.

  He opened the envelope and pulled out the folded pieces of paper and read.

  Watercolor Fantasy

  I thought about you today in the shower where I had a watercolor fantasy. It was uncontrollable while my soapy hands slid up and down my skin.

  I thought about your smooth palms, fingers splayed against my skin, the beauty of your large, warm hands moving over the places where I caressed—my thighs, my stomach, my breasts.

  I thought about your powerful body against mine, your male energy mingling with my female energy, a tangible force that vibrates with crystal sound.

  I thought about your warm chest pressed to my back, about your clever, wet mouth on the back of my neck. With a soft sigh, my back arched helplessly in anticipation of such an exquisite sensation.

  The heat of the fantasy made me melt. With eyes closed to savor the pleasure, I said your name longingly and the melody flowed and combined with the mist.

  Like an echo, your name returned to me glittering like stardust against my wet, heated skin.

  I wrapped my arms around the diamond bright drops to hold you against me, to drink you in to assuage a powerful thirst.

  I thought about your face, eyes closed in pleasure, dark lashes brushing strong cheekbones, a sculpted mouth created for smiling, for pleasure, for a woman’s lips. My lips, I thought, just mine.

  I thought about encircling your wrists to savor the soft skin there. Ride with them on the journey over my body that feels like a part of yours. It’s as if we were connected by a thread that draws us irresistibly toward each other with unrestrained and explosive force.

  The hungry promise of your mouth on mine entices me to turn into your arms. The heavy fire in my aching nipples can only be quenched by contact with you, such sweet, intense satisfaction.

  The pressure points of our bodies touch, my softness to your hard, heat. Your name falls from my lips again an aching whisper. Jack.

  Wherever you are your head lifts and you smile with a secret knowledge of your own watercolor fantasy that I thought about you today in the shower.

  Santa’s Sexy Elf

  Jack stood there for a moment looking at the erotic words. A fire of need gripped his body, and he automatically turned to look at her town house. Of course the windows were dark and no one stirred. It was 3:00 a.m. and Jack hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. He’d been in the same clothes that long as well. He reached down to his doorknob and disappeared inside his place. He stripped down to nothing, his fully aroused flesh throbbing. He walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower.

  Stepping beneath the warm spray, he grabbed up soap and quickly washed himself. He sent the soft, fluffy towel over his highly sensitized skin, unable to stop the flow of charged electricity that sizzled through his body. The woman knew how to write a poem. The erotic words set off another charge of electricity. Jack had to stop for a moment and get his breathing under control. He went into his bedroom and pulled on a pair of gray shorts.

  His body hummed with anticipation and he ignored that voice in the back of his head that told him he was acting like a hormone crazy fool. Chloe Matthews was in her town house fast asleep from a long day at the café, he was sure. But he couldn’t wait until morning to see her. He couldn’t wait another minute.

  3

  WITH A HARD, hollow ball of longing lodged in his chest, he rubbed at his breastbone. The loneliness had intensified and it was Jack’s own fault. He’d distanced himself from human interaction. It’d been a slow, painful process.

  Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he turned his attention to Chloe and all the little puzzle pieces he had yet to find to complete his picture of her.

  It took him moments to get to her door. He raised his hand and knocked.

  After a few moments, the door opened and she stood there, her hair a wild mass around her head, her soft gaze alert and unsurprised.

  That hollow place inside him ached with a rawness that slammed him hard. She was so feminine and graceful, and the heat in his body jumped like an inferno.

  She wasn’t his type. Not at all. He usually went for curvy, carefree girls with uncomplicated brains, women who wanted nothing more from him than a good tussle between the sheets. He didn’t know what Chloe wanted and yet he felt something about her drawing on him, and him alone. Instinct told him his curiosity could be dangerous, but the warning wasn’t strong enough to overpower the attraction.

  All thoughts flew out of his head when she reached out and cupped the back of his neck, her small hand soft and warm. With a husky voice filled with rich promise, she asked, “Have you been thinking about me, Jack?”

  CHLOE TOOK a quick intake of breath at the scorched feel of Jack’s skin, the wet strands of his hair cool against her hot flesh. Dark stubble lined his jaw, and his almost black eyes were vivid and captivating against all that sinful, unruly hair.

  She’d endured days of feeling ardent and restless with a delectable, overwhelming kind of need. The sight of him kindled a flame inside her, making her hunger for the pressure and tang of his lips against hers, and his slow, long-fingered hands caressing her naked flesh, awakening her body with his touch unti
l the ache inside her was an all-consuming burn.

  He was drawing her through a portal into another dimension where sensations were sharp; the emotions thick and electric, they left her skin tingling. Jack, an unruly man with a burning look, took her on a wild ride every time she met those haunting eyes. The man who hid his pain behind the facade of a charmer.

  But Chloe wasn’t fooled by that wicked, melting grin. She wasn’t fooled by his casual stance, the overly confident persona he projected to protect himself.

  Drawing him into her town house, she closed the door and found herself pressed up against the wall with six feet, two hundred muscle-packed pounds of aroused male surrounding her.

  She wanted to do so much more than heal him. Her body responded to his as she responded instinctively to that intense awareness sizzling between them.

  She knew what he needed now was human contact, physical release. Chloe reached up, sending her hands over the rounded bulge of his biceps to the tense muscles of his shoulders. “Easy, baby,” she soothed.

  He breathed a violent breath. “Not just yet, easy is for later. Right now I need hard and fast.”

  Her heart swelled at the vulnerability in his voice. It was low and shaky, ragged with desperate longing.

  “Take off my shorts, Chloe. Touch me.”

  Her hands went to his hips and she pulled at the soft cotton waistband. He was naked beneath and she cupped his hot, hard erection in her hands, stroking him.

  He cried out, thrusting his hips toward her. His hand slipped to the straps of her nightgown as he pushed one then the other eagerly from her shoulders. The silky material skimmed down her body in a shimmering, liquid slide, caressing her heated skin. She pressed her breasts into his hard muscular chest.

  Her hands grew bolder and Jack’s eyes darkened. Reaching down he parted her legs, sliding a finger inside her slick, wet sheath. She arched again. This time he captured one of her taut nipples, sucking her hard. Her hips pulsed eagerly as he slid his slick finger in and out of her.

  He lifted her against the wall, wedging his thighs between hers, the heat of his body like a brand against her flushed and aching skin.

  Chloe arched into his touch, helpless to do anything but gasp for breath. She was aware of the wall, cool and solid against her back, but her focus was on Jack, on the hunger that was threatening to devour them both.

  He pushed himself against her wet, ravenous sex with teasing thrusts that made her pant with frustration.

  “Jack, please,” she begged.

  Chloe cried out as he entered her fully in one driving thrust. She wrapped her arms around his neck, welcoming the deep, smooth strokes of his body inside hers.

  He withdrew, and thrust again with a groan of pleasure. His words, low and wild, said in Cajun French.

  “Yes, Jack. More, harder.”

  He lost his control completely, she could feel the change in him, in his hard body as he pressed against her, delivered more power with each thrust, and she was trapped in the savage heart of a hurricane. He called out roughly as he drove into her. His slamming thrusts made her cry out in sheer carnal satisfaction. Every part of her welcomed him, the harsh sound of his breath in her ears, the breathtaking, sliding friction.

  Dragged into that maelstrom like a rag doll, she gave herself up to the sensations. She wanted to soothe and entice him, to break down his walls and let loose all that dark pain. She stared into his face, fierce with passion. With his sweet voice in her ear, he exploded, sparking off her own hard, dazzling orgasm.

  For a moment she caught a glimpse of his eyes, saturated with pleasure so deep she could hold it for only a moment. He buried his face into the hollow of her throat, his chest rising and falling against her heated skin. Gently she tried to raise his head, wanted to see that look again, wanted to absorb the intimacy, but he refused to raise it.

  She clasped her arms around his neck and knowing that the feelings were not all hers, dissolved into tears. These tears were not of pain or sorrow, but were sympathetic, swelling currents that purified and enhanced her. Tightening her hold, she let the feelings wash through her, she didn’t try to stop them, didn’t hesitate. The feeling frightened her. It was dangerous to want a man so much, dangerous to think that she alone could bring his secrets into the light of day.

  Jack looked up, his eyes hypnotic as she stared into the dark orbs. He reached and very gently wiped at a tear with his thumb.

  “It was so intense. That’s all,” she said.

  He released her, her slick body sliding down his muscular frame. “A woman’s tears don’t frighten me, Chloe.” He tenderly whisked away the moisture from her other cheek. “I want to discover all the ways you express the energy I see in your eyes.”

  “Come.”

  She took his hand and led him to her bedroom. There he let her pull him down onto the mattress.

  He curled around her, dragging her as close to him as she could get. He sighed softly as if he was exactly where he wanted to be, was meant to be. The vulnerability spoke to her. She soothed her hands down his back, touching her mouth to his shoulder with little kisses. Trailing her mouth up his neck, she buried her nose into his still damp hair, breathing in the exquisite scent of him.

  They slept then and sometime before dawn she was awakened to the feel of his tongue stroking along her collarbone. Then his mouth was on her breast, and desire sluiced through her.

  She allowed herself to lie back and enjoy the delicious sensations Jack aroused. They rendered her incapable of doing anything more than experiencing—the rasp of his tongue against her nipple, the tug of his lips as he sucked at her, the play of his fingers over her rib cage.

  He took her nipple tenderly in his mouth and nipped at it gently with his teeth, and she cried out at the searing, bright heat, just slightly painful, but oh-so-arousing. She clutched his head against her chest, shaking with pleasure as he pressed her breasts together and took both nipples into his mouth.

  She was so sensitized to his touch that when he slipped his hand between her thighs, she had to breathe deeply to absorb all that she was feeling, bringing her so close to climax. She moaned deeply as he slid his long finger inside her. He murmured softly in appreciation, and slid in a second one opening her, making her wet with need.

  His clever hand caressed her sensitive folds and furrows with tender skill, petting and coaxing her tirelessly until she crested and came.

  Time elongated and night, a blanket of shimmering pleasure and feverish need turned toward dawn. She didn’t know how many times he brought her to orgasm. It all seemed to move together in one timeless, shivering current. He was insatiable, ravenous; taking her tender flesh as if he fed on her very desire. He pushed her further than she had ever dreamed of going, until she was writhing and pleading, her hands tangled in his hair.

  Snaring the back of her knees until her widened thighs were draped over his, her pelvis was now tilted up, yielding to him. He eased over her, using his thighs to push hers up higher on his waist. With his exquisite body, he trapped her beneath the satisfying weight of all that muscle. His forearms came to rest along either side of her face and he shifted his hips, fixing the thick-sheathed head of his penis firmly against her very essence.

  Looking intently into her eyes, he entered her slowly, letting her feel the size of him, teasing her with the promise of more.

  He thrust into her, strong and deep, entering her to the hilt with the first unrestrained push. She gasped on a stunned breath as her inner muscles contracted around his shaft.

  His eyes widened in response, revealing heat, and something else battling in their depths. Before she could analyze that last emotion, before she could dwell on the initial pleasure of being thoroughly consumed by him, he began to move, his body undulating and grinding against hers as he increased his rhythmic pace.

  A low throaty, ragged moan escaped him, and he took her mouth, kissing her with an out-of-control, potent passion that caught her off guard. His tongue swept into her
mouth, matching the rapid, hard driving force of his hips and the slick, penetrating slide of his flesh in hers.

  Tremors radiated through her from the sensitive spot where they were joined so intimately. She felt thoroughly possessed by him, body and soul.

  She concentrated on what he was giving her, how alive he made her body feel. Running her hands down the slope of his spine, she slid her fingers to his buttocks, grasping the hard pumping muscles and locked her legs around his waist to pull him closer, and surrendered to her body’s keening demand for release.

  This time he was right there with her when she reached the peak of her climax. Groaning, he broke their kiss and tossed his head back, his hips driving hard, his body tightening, straining against hers.

  “Chloe.” Her name growled out between his clenched teeth as his body convulsed one final time.

  He lay on her for a few minutes and they rolled to the side. When Chloe caught her breath, she turned toward him. His untamed hair was dark against the white of her pillow, his handsome face in shadow. She turned to her side and propped herself on her elbow.

  Gently, she pushed his damp hair off his forehead and he opened his eyes. Quick as lightning he captured her hand and brought it to his mouth. His soft lips caressed her fingers, her palm and wrist, sending heat into her veins. She met his eyes, getting lost in their depths.

  With his other hand, he captured the back of her neck and brought her mouth down to his.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  Chloe smiled, feeling so deep in her bones that he didn’t want to go, could feel the quick rapid beat of his heart as he waited for her answer.