"Not yet," he told her, a grin creasing his handsome face. "I don't think you're ready for that yet."
"Not ready…" The words faded as his meaning hit and her cheeks heated. "I don't think—"
"Don't think," he cut in as he leaned down, his lips a fraction from hers. "Just feel." Then he kissed her.
It was a hot, deep, thorough meeting of tongue and lips that stirred her blood and made her heart pound.
"Open up a little more," he told her and she did as he instructed, giving him better access and playing the dutiful pupil. She lifted her arms when he asked her to do so, slid her hands around his neck and held onto him, pressing her body closer to the hard, muscled length of him.
"That's good," he told her when they both finally came up for air. "Really good."
"I'm ready," she murmured, licking her lips, tasting his essence. "I'm really ready."
"Don't I wish!" He shook his head. "Sleep tight, darlin'." He dropped a kiss on her nose and turned to walk away.
"But I'm really ready," she called after him desperately, her heart pounding, her blood rushing.
"Soon," he promised before climbing back onto his bike and riding away.
* * *
Chapter 6
«^»
"Are you ready?"
Boy, was she ever. The answer echoed through Paige's head as she stared up at Jack Mission who stood on her front porch. He wore a white T-shirt, faded denim jeans and a smile.
The smile was the kicker. It sent her heart into overdrive and made the rush in her ears. It was the same hungry expression he'd worn the night before last when he'd stared at her through the video lens. As if he really and truly wanted her. All of her. Body and mind and—
"Ready?" he asked again, derailing her dangerous train of thought.
Dangerous? Definitely. Thinking sexy thoughts about Jack Mission wasn't a threat – she could fantasize 'til the cows came home about how he'd nibbled the corners of her lips when he kissed her and how his fingers stroked up and down the length of her spine when he'd pulled her close. No, the danger came in romanticizing about him. Imagining that he really could be attracted to her on more than just a physical level.
She didn't want that. She wanted sex. End of discussion.
She glanced down at the blue jeans and tank top he'd told her to wear. "This doesn't exactly scream seduction to me, but you're the boss."
"That's right. So let's go."
"The bedroom's that way."
"You're moving too fast."
"Look who's talking." She struggled to keep up with him as he led her down the walkway to his bike parked at the curb.
He straddled the seat and motioned behind him. "Climb on."
"Where are we going?" she asked again once they were speeding down the main strip through town.
"Blackjack Cave. It's a secluded little place cut into the side of Brennan's Bluff. When I was a teenager, all the kids used to head up there on Saturday nights. It's a major make-out spot."
Excitement spiraled through her at his words. She was twenty-six years old and she'd never been to a make-out spot before. Heck, she'd barely been on a date. Woodrow had been her first and only boyfriend and their courting had been limited to sitting on her parents' front porch, eating ice cream on Saturday afternoons. One minute she'd been licking a vanilla cone and the next, she'd been married, saddled with a house to keep and a husband to please.
She hadn't done a very good job at either.
That was then and this is now. The mantra echoed through her head, reminding her that she wasn't the same person.
She had been ignorant and naïve back then. Now she was getting educated, and her next lesson involved a trip to her very first make-out spot.
"So what are we going to do up there?"
A deep chuckle filled her ears and roused her nerve endings. "Why, we're going to make out, darlin'. What else?"
* * *
"How come your isn't on here?" Paige held up the candle and stared at the cave wall, decorated with dozens of names carved into the rock. Not just names, but declarations of love. Everything from Sally and Derek to Wayne and Nadine. Some of the young lovers had dates carved beneath their names. Some didn't. Some were even familiar. Paige spotted Pastor Marley and his wife – one of the oldest couples according to the date. It seemed everybody had visited Blackjack Cave at one time or another.
Everyone except for Jack.
Dressed in faded Levi's and a soft white T-shirt, he sat on a blanket in the middle of the dirt floor, his black boots hooked at the ankles. A candle flickered from the mouth of an empty beer bottle. Four unopened bottles of Coors sat in a carrier next to him. He held the fifth in his hand, the glass dripping with condensation. He lifted the drink and downed a mouthful. A drop of moisture chased a slick path over the back of his hand and down his forearm.
"So?" she pressed when he'd finished off the beer and placed the bottle next to the first empty one. "Why isn't your name here?"
Silence ticked by and she had the feeling he was debating whether or not to answer. "Because," he finally said, reaching for beer number three. "I've never actually brought a girl up here."
"Get out of here." She sat down on the blanket next to him and fit another candle into the mouth of the second empty bottle. The twin flames flickered, sending a dance of shadows across the stone walls. "You're kidding, right?"
He twisted the beer top. "I'm serious."
"I find that hard to believe."
He took another swallow and eyed her. "Why's that?"
"Because rumor has it that you've run through more women than Richard Simmons has put out exercise videos."
"Rumor as in my new sister-in-law?"
"As in every single woman in this town. Ruth Jean Paisley has a cousin who lives in New Mexico who says that you were quite a hot commodity up there last year."
He grinned. "You can't believe everything you hear."
"Are you saying it's not true?"
"Not way back when."
"But it's true now."
He shrugged. "I aim to please." His expression eased as he stared into the flames. "Believe it or not, I used to be a one-woman man way back when." His gaze lifted and caught hers. "That's why I've never brought a girl up here. I had a steady when I was a teenager and her daddy didn't take too kindly to her coming up here or going to the drive-in unchaperoned or staying out past ten. He was a judge here in town with a reputation to uphold."
"Judge Baines?"
He shook his head. "Judge Byron McGrew. He's long gone now. He was presiding over Mangrum County the last I heard. But back then, he was as stiff and morally upright as a man could get, with four daughters as wholesome as apple pie."
"Which slice was yours?"
"The youngest."
"What was her name?"
"Gayle." He took another drink. "And the only place we went on Saturday night was to bingo with her folks. Occasionally we headed out to the Dairy Freeze afterward for an ice-cream cone, but most of the time, I just took her home. Sounds boring, huh?"
"Actually, it sounds kind of nice."
"It was." He finished off his beer and reached for another bottle.
"So whatever happened to her?"
"I married her."
"You're married?"
"Once upon a time." A look of despair flashed in his eyes before he shrugged and his expression closed. "She passed away a few months after we tied the knot. She had an allergic reaction to a bee sting and didn't make it to the hospital in time. It was a freak thing. She didn't even know she was allergic until it was too late."
For the first time, Paige actually felt a kinship with Jack Mission. She saw a pain she recognized all too well in his liquid gray eyes and it made her want to reach out to him.
Before she could stop herself, she did just that. Her hand covered his. "I'm so sorry."
He didn't move a muscle. He just sat there, her hand atop his. His fingers flexed and she had the feeling he w
as fighting to keep from turning his hand over and embracing hers.
Crazy, she realized when he pulled his hand away and shrugged. "Don't be. It was a long time ago. All in the past." His gaze caught and held hers. "So what about you? Ever carve your name into the wall of someplace like this?"
She thought about lying, then thought better of it. He knew she was inexperienced. Painfully so. Otherwise, she wouldn't be here. Besides, he'd just shared a part of himself and even though he'd pulled away, she felt compelled to open up to him a little too.
"I never really dated much. Woodrow was my first and only boyfriend and we didn't have many traditional dates. You know, where the boy picks up the girl and off they go to a football game or something. My parents were very strict, too. I was never allowed to go many places with Woodrow, and when I was, it had to be someplace public where my folks could check up on me."
"They sound like good people."
"They were." She blinked against a sudden onslaught of tears, but it was too late. A lone drop escaped from the corner of her eye. She tried to dash it away, but Jack was quicker. His thumb brushed the drop and the feel of his skin against hers sent an echo of heat through her body.
"I'm sorry. It's just, I still miss them a lot."
His hand fell away. "What happened to them?"
"They died in a car accident when I was sixteen." She sniffled. "My life totally changed then. One minute I had a home, the next, I had nowhere to go."
"Didn't you have any family?"
"Just an aunt. My father's sister, but they were never very close. She had her own family – husband number four and half a dozen kids – and didn't want another mouth to feed. Woodrow was the only one who wanted me. My aunt signed a consent form and we got married a month later."
"Would you have married him if things had turned out differently?"
"No. Yes. Maybe." She shook her head. "At the time, if circumstances had been different, I probably wouldn't have married him. But I was young and alone and he said he loved me. He said he would take care of me."
"You don't strike me as the type who needs anyone to take care of you."
"I'm not. Not now. Not ever again."
"So you've given up on finding a 'happily ever after'."
"No. I just think 'happily ever after' implies a fifty-fifty relationship, with both people contributing and both people loving each other equally. It was one-sided with Woodrow and me. I loved him, but he didn't know the meaning of the word. He considered me a possession."
"He was an idiot." The words rang out with such sincerity that a strange sense of warmth unfurled inside her.
"Thanks." She sniffled again and wiped away another traitorous tear. "But can we please talk about something else?"
"Actually," he said, scooting closer to her. "I think we've talked enough. It's time to feel, Paige."
"To feel what?"
"All the heat burning you up from the inside out." He touched her cheek, slid a fingertip down the side of her jaw, the slope of her neck. The contact made her entire body tremble. "Can you feel it?"
She nodded and his hand slid along her collarbone until he reached the strap of her tank top. He hooked his finger and tugged the strap down just enough to bare one shoulder.
A wave of insecurity washed through her. There were candles, which meant he could see every imperfect inch. She reached up to stop him. As if he sensed her hesitation, he drew away.
"I'm sorry. I'm just not used to all this."
"He didn't love you the way he should have, did he?"
She shook her head. "I don't know." Her gaze met his. "I honestly don't know. He was my first. My only. And it was always over with so quickly."
"He was an idiot," he said again. "A certified idiot. He took from you, Paige. That's all he did. But it's not supposed to be that way. You're supposed to enjoy sex too."
She knew that. The sophisticated woman who read Cosmo and took cooking classes knew that, but until that moment, it had never quite sank in. Not until she heard Jack Mission say the words. Until she stared deep into his piercing gray eyes and let him push her back down onto the blanket.
"What do I do now?" she asked once she was flat on her back.
"You don't do anything, darlin'. You simply close your eyes and concentrate on what you're feeling." She heard a beer cap twist and sighed. "Having great sex isn't just about doing the right thing. It's about learning to relax. To free your inhibitions. To feel, Paige."
She felt the brush of glass against her bare shoulder and panic skittered through her. "I really don't think this is necessary—"
"Don't think, period. Just feel."
A few heartbeats pounded by before she felt the cold wetness against her mouth. Her lips parted and she felt the trickle of beer on her tongue. The liquid splashed into her mouth and she managed a swallow, but not before the beer spilled over, gliding down her chin and jaw. Her first instinct was to brush it away, but Jack caught her hand.
"No. Feel the sensation."
She balled her fingers and concentrated on the coolness racing across her skin, followed by a rush of warm air as Jack leaned down, his breath flowing over a whisper before she felt the heat of his tongue. He lapped at the wetness and tingles rushed through her body.
Her lips parted, eager to feel his mouth, but he didn't oblige her with a kiss. He licked a few more drops, then leaned up to splash more beer on her neck. The beer slid down her skin and dampened the material of her tank top.
Her nipples pebbled, responding to the cool sensation, begging for more because her skin was on fire from the feel of his tongue, his breath, him. He set her ablaze with nothing more than his nearness and she needed something to quench the fire.
He dribbled more beer onto her hard nipples. Her lips parted and a cry vibrated up her throat as she arched toward him. She felt his warm breath on her breast a second before a fierce heat enveloped the ripe crest.
He suckled her through the wet fabric of her shirt, his mouth so hot that it scorched her skin through the material. A wave of embarrassment rushed through her, quickly replaced by desperation. She'd been so worked up all evening, so ready for him to touch her that she couldn't help herself. Her body arched, pressing deeper into the wet heat of his mouth, relishing the incredible feel of him.
He sucked hard and long and deep until she was gasping for air. Just when she could take no more, he pulled away. She felt him lift the edge of her tank top. Beer drizzled onto her bare stomach and pooled in her navel before sliding decadently toward the waistband of her shorts…
The flick of his tongue caught the drop just a fraction shy. He licked her clean before undoing the button of her shorts and inching them down. She tried to tug them back up, but he was persistent and she was hungry and the two didn't make for a good combination.
Besides, it was just candlelight. Not the full brightness of a sixty-watt bulb blazing overhead.
He pulled her shorts free and a few heartbeats later, she felt the cool bottle touch the outside of her thigh. It was a wonderful sensation – the cool glass against her burning skin. He trailed the mouth of the bottle down the outside of her leg, up the inside of her knee, her thigh… Slowly. So maddeningly slowly that her heart nearly gave out in anticipation.
"Can you feel it, Paige? Can you feel every sensation? The rush of your blood? The heat of your skin? The smooth coolness of the bottle?"
She searched for words, but she could only nod, her heart pounding too frantically for logical thought. It felt too good.
"Do you want more?"
She nodded, but it wasn't enough.
"Open your eyes and tell me. Tell me exactly what you're feeling and exactly what you want."
She blinked several times before he finally came into focus through the passion-laden fog that held her captive.
"Tell me."
"I…" She swallowed and fought for a breath. "I feel anxious. Excited."
"Hungry?"
"Very."
"And
what do you want?"
"I…" She licked her lips and fought for her voice. "More," was all that finally came out.
"More of this?" He trailed the bottle closer to the heat between her legs, coming close enough to send a rush of electricity skimming through her body. "And this?" Ever so gently, he touched the mouth of the bottle to her hot deft, swept the cool glass the length of her and she cried out, her eyes closing for a long, delicious moment as her body literally vibrated from the delicious sensations. Another swipe and the pressure built. Her breathing grew ragged and the intensity overwhelmed her.
Her climax hit her hard and fast. It slammed into her, turned her upside down and inside out, robbing her of breath for a frenzied moment.
A few frantic heartbeats later, she heard Jack's voice through the ringing in her ears.
"Look at me," he commanded again and her eyelids fluttered open. "Are you listening to your body? Is it telling you what it wants?" She nodded. "Then tell me, Paige. Tell me exactly what you want right now."
"You," she murmured.
A fierce light fired in his eyes and his muscles tightened. Before she knew what was happening, he leaned over and captured her lips with his. The kiss was fierce, devouring, and lasted all of five frantic heartbeats before he slowed down. The pressure lightened just enough to feed her a much-needed breath and then he deepened the kiss. He kissed her softly, tenderly, thoroughly before he pulled away.
A strange expression lit his eyes, as if he'd just realized what he'd done. He shook his head before taking a mouthful of the beer he'd been tormenting her with.
"Let me guess," she said when she'd finally managed to compose herself. "The lesson's over."
He grinned, but the expression didn't quite touch his eyes or ease the tension that radiated off his body, particularly when his gaze swept the length of hers as she sat there clad only in her panties and a thin tank top. "You're learning, darlin'."
She let out an exasperated sigh and reached for her shorts. "But I'm ready."
"Soon."
Promises, promises.
* * *
Jack gripped the handlebars until his knuckles turned white. The insistent throb in his groin urged him to turn his motorcycle around, drive back to Paige's house and relieve himself between her soft, warm thighs.
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