RESTLESS

by Kimberly Raye

  Jack's gaze deepened and she knew that he liked what he saw. The knowledge sent a wash of satisfaction through her that quickly faded into excitement as he leaned down and his mouth closed over one nipple.

  He sucked on her, catching the ripe peak between his teeth, lapping with his tongue until she forgot all about her naked state and became conscious only of Jack and what he was doing to her.

  Too much and at the same time, not nearly enough.

  "Please," she gasped and he obliged, kissing a path down her belly to the wet heat between her legs.

  He parted her legs, fingertips sliding over the soft skin of her thighs, bringing her nerve endings to life. He moved his hands over her thighs, up and around until his large fingers slid beneath her buttocks. He drew her to him, spread her legs even wider and then he touched the wet heat between them. She arched toward him at the first lap of his tongue.

  He stroked her, sliding his rough fingertip over the softness of her skin before plunging it deep inside. The pleasure almost made her shatter, and she fought to drag air into her lungs. He stroked and explored until she squirmed, and then he put his mouth fully on her.

  The shock of feeling his kiss at her most private place sent a bolt of panic through her.

  Woodrow had never kissed her there. She reached for Jack's head, suddenly desperate to pull him away and beg him to stop, but somehow her hands had a different idea. Her fingers threaded through the dark silk of his hair, holding him closer, urging him to continue.

  He tasted and savored, his tongue stroking, plunging, driving her mindless until she came apart beneath him in a shattering climax more intense than the first one she had with him less than forty-eight hours ago. A cry vibrated from her throat and before she could stop it, she heard her high-pitched wail split open the quiet night.

  It was sometime later before she finally managed to open her eyes. She found Jack stretched out on a nearby bleacher, staring at the sky overhead. Disappointment filled her. She was lying there stark naked and exposed and he wasn't even looking. At the same time, she felt a small measure of relief.

  Taking the opportunity, she reached for her clothes.

  "Did you like it?" His words stopped her in the middle of tying one shoe and she glanced up. He didn't look at her. His attention was still fixed on the sky.

  "Um, yes. It was…" Fantastic. Fabulous. Earth-shattering. "Nice," she finally said, not wanting to turn him off even more after her shameless response. She'd nearly screamed, for heaven's sake.

  She expected him to make some comment, to grin or tease or do something to make her blush. Instead, he stood and reached for her hand. "Come on. We'd better get going."

  Paige forced her wobbly legs to move as she followed him down the bleacher steps and wished with all her heart that he would say something – anything to give her some clue as to what was running through his head. Had her response disappointed him? Excited him? Angered him? Was she as totally inept at having an orgasm as she'd been at everything else in her life?

  Say something, she silently begged, but Jack only directed her onto the back of the waiting motorcycle.

  He gunned the engine, shoved the bike into gear and off they went.

  Paige held onto him and did her best to concentrate on the hum of the motorcycle, the rush of wind, anything but the doubts racing through her mind.

  Instead, all she could think about was what she'd done wrong.

  * * *

  The only thing wrong with Paige was the fact that despite the cold shoulder he was giving her, she still wanted Jack Mission. The ride home only fed the need inside her and by the time she climbed off the bike, she was this close to jumping his bones right there on the sidewalk in front of her house.

  She managed to wait until they reached the front door.

  "Sleep tight."

  "Don't even think it."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm ready."

  "Darlin', we've been over this before. Not—"

  "—yet," she finished for him. "I'm sick of hearing that I'm ready. I've been ready for ages. I'll never be more ready."

  "Okay."

  "And if you give me more of the same bull about how I'm not, I'm liable to give you a roundhouse kick right to your midsection. I took a six-week self-defense course in karate a few months ago and I'm damned good – what?"

  "I said okay. You're ready. Let's go."

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "Darlin'." He grabbed her hand and placed it over his throbbing groin that literally jumped at her touch. "Do I feel like a main who's kidding?"

  "No, you definitely mean business."

  "Good. Now I think it's time we gave those silk sheets a try, otherwise we could always stay out here and try out the porch swing."

  "The bedroom is good."

  And before he could change his mind, Paige grabbed him by the hand and led him inside. It was finally time.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  Paige wasn't sure how they made it to the bedroom. Whether Jack led her or she led him or they both rushed for it. She only knew that seconds later they were standing next to her bed and he was kissing her.

  Desperation seemed to drive him for the first few moments of contact, then something happened. The kiss slowed, deepened as Jack seemed to relax, as if he had all night. As if he wanted to make each moment count. He teased and stroked her with his tongue, stirring the heat inside her body until she was flushed and breathless and needy.

  She whimpered and he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the bed. But he didn't release her right away. Instead, he held her, his mouth feasting on hers, his fingers burning into her body. Then he lowered her to her feet in a long, slow glide down the fierce heat of his hard, aroused body.

  Paige wasn't sure what happened to their clothes. One minute she was wearing her favorite flower print skirt and blouse and the next, she lay on the bed wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Jack loomed over her, wearing only his jeans, the button undone, the zipper straining over a huge erection that looked ready to bust out at any moment.

  His gaze held hers for a long moment. Then he moved his attention lower, sweeping the length of her body. A wave of insecurity washed through her and she reached to cover herself.

  "No." He caught her hands and urged them to her side. Suddenly, as much as she wanted to cover herself, she wanted even more to feel his bare body against her own.

  He unhooked her bra and swept her panties down her legs, leaving her naked against the soft sheets. Moonlight spilled from the window, illuminating the room in a faint light that sculpted Jack's features and eased her own hesitation.

  Moonlight she could handle. Moonlight was flattering. Moonlight hid the flaws and lent a softness to everything it touched.

  Her fears eased, only to be replaced with an excitement as Jack slid the zipper of his pants down. His erection sprang into her palm, huge and hard and throbbing. His skin stretched tight as he slid into her tight grip and a gasp rumbled from his throat.

  "I'm definitely ready," he murmured, the words raw and husky.

  "But I'm the one who's supposed to be ready."

  He stared down at her, his gaze intense and consuming. "Then let's see if you really are, darlin'."

  He touched her breast, plucked and pulled at the nipple until it puckered and throbbed. His hand slid lower, gliding over the quivering flesh of her stomach to tangle in the patch of red curls at the base of her legs. His fingers slid into her slick flesh and she shuddered.

  The touch was softer than when he'd stroked her with the bottle. Warmer. More purposeful. She couldn't help the raw moan that slid past her lips and filled the breath-laden silence that surrounded them.

  Skin met skin as he settled over her, blocking out everything except the sight, the sound, the smell of him. His eyes glittered like pools of silver. Rasping breaths parted his sensual lips. The steamy scent of sex, heat and aroused male filled the ai
r. Muscle corded his body, flexing and bunching with every movement.

  He kissed her again, tasting and sucking her tongue until every nerve in her body came alive. Strong hands roamed over her, arousing every nerve, making her want and crave him in a way more intense than anything she'd felt before.

  He slid down her sweat-dampened body, his lips closed over her nipple and he sucked with a fierce sweetness that actually brought tears to her eyes.

  Woodrow – especially Woodrow – had never touched her with such gentleness. He'd never seduced or stirred anything. He'd only taken his own pleasure. Taken because she'd never been able to give. She'd never known how.

  "Tell me what to do."

  "Just look at me, darlin'." He caught her gaze and held it. "Just look and feel." He paused. "You're protected?"

  At her nod, he gratefully urged her legs apart. The voluptuous head of his penis nudged her slick opening, pushing in, stretching. With one smooth thrust he filled her. He rested his forehead against hers for a long moment, as if he needed to catch his breath.

  He moved his hips the tiniest bit and heat fluttered through her. She rotated her pelvis, giving him better access, begging him for more.

  He flexed his buttocks and began to move slowly, penetrating deeply, thoroughly. His hands roamed over her body, stirring her on the outside the way his sex stirred her on the inside. He sucked and licked her nipples and drove her wild with each and every thrust.

  The pressure built inside her. Higher, higher. Faster, faster. And then it happened. The heavens parted and the earth shook and Paige Cassidy had the most incredible orgasm of her entire life.

  "That's it, baby," he groaned. "Let it go."

  Her body tightened, milking his, wringing a deep groan from him. He plunged once, twice, burying himself as deep as he could go as he followed her over the edge. Jack collapsed on top of her, their hearts thundering in perfect sync, their chests heaving and pressing against each other with each frantic breath.

  How was it?

  Paige wanted so much to ask the question, to know what Jack was thinking as he lay there atop her, but she couldn't voice the words. As much as she wanted to know, she didn't dare ask for fear of the answer. So instead, she slid her arms around him and closed her eyes. And for the first time since she'd met Jack Mission, she actually fell right to sleep.

  * * *

  Jack watched Paige sleep and tried to make some sense out of the feelings pushing and pulling inside him.

  He hadn't meant to make love to her tonight. He'd meant to touch her and taste her, but the episode at the football stadium should have been the end of it. Only things had turned out differently – because she was different.

  She was more than a pretty face. She was nice and smart and she actually blushed when he said something risqué. The women he usually kept company with – the safe women who knew the score and were only out for a good time – had stopped blushing a long time ago. She was also caring and compassionate. He could still remember the look on her face as she'd stared after Jenny Turnover. She truly wanted to help the woman.

  But even more than being a good person, Paige appealed to him on a deeper level.

  Never had a woman made him feel so… Hell, just feel. That was the trouble with her. She didn't just turn him on on a physical level. She touched him emotionally.

  She changed everything he thought he knew about sex. Sex was sometimes slow and easy. Sometimes fast and fierce. But never had it been like it was with Paige, so wondrous and new, so exciting and intense. Never had Jack wanted to lose himself inside a woman and brand her as his own so that no other man touched her ever again. Ever.

  He wasn't possessive. He never had been, even with his first wife. She'd been his first love and he'd been crazy about her, but he'd never felt the all-consuming rush he felt when he looked at Paige. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and shield her from the world as much as he wanted to bury himself deep inside her hot slick body and not come up for air until he'd had the fiercest, most powerful climax of his life. Crazy. Yet the feelings were there and he could no more ignore them than he could roll out of bed and leave her at this moment.

  But he would leave because that's what Jack did. He blew through town until he grew bored and people got a little too close. Then he moved on. He was always wandering.

  No matter how much he suddenly wanted to stop.

  * * *

  "You definitely look hot today." Dolores's words met Paige the minute she walked into the In Touch office the next morning after the most incredible night of her life.

  Make that educational. Last night had been purely a learning experience, and a stellar one at that.

  Of course, if it just happened to be an incredible learning experience, then that just made things all the better. Everyone knew that when one enjoyed their education, they gave it their all.

  "Actually, I'm not feeling hot at all." Or frustrated. Or needy.

  The only thing she did feel was curious, and a little scared. She and Jack had gone on to make love several more times after the first earth-shattering experience, but not once had they actually talked about what they'd done. Paige had meant to ask him this morning for a progress report. She'd promised herself last night that she'd find out what he thought, but he'd already left by the time she'd opened her eyes.

  "Besides, it actually feels normal in here today." Paige glanced at the new thermostat on the wall.

  "And let's hope it stays that way." Dolores shot a glare at Wally before turning her attention back to Paige. "As for you, I mean hot as in hot." Dolores swept an appreciative glance over Paige. "My, my, but you're all dressed up. Is that new?"

  "This old thing?" Paige glanced down at her flower print sundress, a little shorter and tighter than she normally wore, but it fit her mood today. The material was light and airy, the color vibrant.

  That's how she felt today. Vibrant. Ready to tackle even the toughest job.

  "You have to interview Bea Cromwell today." On second thought. Her stomach did a somersault as she turned to face Wally. "I have to interview who?"

  "Bea Cromwell. You know, tall old lady with blue hair and a mean streak."

  "I was afraid that's who you'd said." Bea Cromwell was the meanest, nastiest 85-year-old to ever play a Bingo card over at the senior's center. She gossiped. She cussed. She chewed tobacco. And she spit, so heaven help the person who happened to be in her way. The only reason anyone tolerated her was because she just happened to be one of the wealthiest women m town.

  "You're kidding, right?"

  Wally sneezed so loud the cup on his desk rattled. He bundled into his sweater. "I've got a cold and I'm freezing."

  "But it's hot in here today."

  "That's what's getting to me. One day it's hot. The next it's cold. I've got a fever."

  "Your own fault," Dolores reminded him. "I told you to leave the thermostat alone."

  "I didn't listen. There. Are you happy?"

  "Not nearly. I want you to say, Dolores, you were right."

  "Dolores, you were right."

  "Dolores, you told me not to touch the thermostat, but I was stubborn."

  "Dolores, you told me not to touch the thermostat, but I was stubborn."

  "I promise never to be stubborn again."

  "I promise never to be stubborn again."

  "Dolores, I'm truly sorry."

  "Dolores, I'm truly sorry."

  "Dolores, you're a goddess. And beautiful. And—"

  "—a pain in the ass."

  "A know-it-all pain in the ass," Dolores reminded him. "And don't you forget it."

  "I hate you," he muttered to the older woman before pausing to blow his nose.

  "The feeling's mutual, sugar. Toodooloo," she said, waving her fingers as she gathered up her purse. "I've got a hair appointment and then a luncheon."

  "Please," Wally begged once Dolores had disappeared. "You have to do this for me. Deb's had it scheduled for two months and I promised her I wouldn't let
her down."

  "I've got my own interviews and I need to finish up two articles."

  "I'll do the articles. You just go." He grabbed her purse and handed it to her. "Please."

  "But—"

  "The only reason she agreed to this is that she gets her picture in the paper. While she's mean, she's also vain. You can't miss it and you can't be late. She's a stickler for being on time."

  "But—"

  "I'll clean your desk."

  She straightened the stack of papers and sighed. "My desk is already straight."

  "I'll buy you lunch."

  She reached into her satchel and produced a brown paper bag. "I brought my own."

  He glanced around as if searching before his eyes lit on her feet "Those shoes have got to be killing you. Tell you what, you do the interview and bring me back some cough medicine from the pharmacy and I'll give you a grade A foot massage."

  Paige eyed the high-heeled sandals she'd dared to put on that morning. Her toes ached at just a glance and she'd only been wearing the blasted things for forty-five minutes. "You're on. But—" she poked him in the chest with her finger "—if she spits on me and ruins this dress, you're paying the dry-cleaning bill."

  "It's a deal." He handed her a stack of notes and settled down at his desk.

  Paige ignored her aching feet, grabbed her satchel and interview pad and headed down the stairs. At least now she had a distraction, one she needed in the worst way. Otherwise, she'd be stuck at her desk, worrying and wondering what Jack Mission thought about last night.

  Was he glad, sad, angry, indifferent? Had she been a total failure last night, the way she'd been most of her life? Or had he been pleased with her progress? Or was he, at the moment, trying to figure a way out of their arrangement?

  She forced the questions aside and started down the stairs. It didn't matter. Even if he called it quits right now, she would still come out of the agreement much wiser than when she'd started. She'd learned a great deal over the past week.