She was every man’s dream. A woman who wanted him now, with no promise of later. So how perverse was it that it just made him want later even more?
“Good, because I don’t really want to share this, or you, with anyone else.” Ever. He backwalked her to the shower, then reached in and flipped on the showerheads.
She tipped her glass to his lips as steam slowly began to rise. She pushed his shirt from his shoulders, then guided his glass to her lips and took a sip. She leaned down, and made him gasp as she trailed cold, fizzy kisses down the center of his chest. She rolled her chilled glass over one nipple as her tongue flicked over the other. He groaned and let his head fall back. And decided right then that one night was definitely not going to be enough. Not even.
Who knew she’d be so . . . adventurous? Although he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that she liked to be the one taking charge. Made him wonder just how spontaneous Ms. Organized & Carefully Planned could be.
He took one last sip, then took both glasses and fumbled them onto the sink counter. He tipped her chin up so he could take her mouth, letting the chilled champagne slip from his lips, into her mouth. She moaned and opened her mouth against his, urging him to take the kiss deeper. He angled his mouth, wrapping her more tightly against him . . . while walking them both right into the water.
“Jack,” she sputtered against his mouth, trying to stop him. “We’re still dressed.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Come here.”
She was laughing as he pulled her under the jet sprays. They were instantly soaked.
He pushed her back against one tiled wall. “I’ve been dying to peel you out of one of these suits almost since the moment I met you.”
“Peel is exactly what you’re going to have to do now,” she told him, laughing.
“Darn,” he said, smiling, dropping kisses along her jaw. “It could take a long, torturous time, too.” He slowly freed the top button on her blouse.
“Could it?” she asked, somewhat hoarsely, as her smile faltered. She moaned a little when his fingertips grazed her damp skin. Her breathing became a bit jerkier as he popped another button, then another.
“Definitely,” he said, peeling open the white silk blouse. The water had made it all but transparent, so he already knew what he’d find beneath. Her bra was delicate, silky, small, as was she. Curves always caught his eye, the lusher the better. So it was somewhat surprising to discover just how arousing it was to uncover those tight little buds, to close his mouth over one, hear her gasp, feel her arch away from the wall. He moved to the other, fair play after all, then peeled both blouse and bra the rest of the way off, draping them over the top of the glass-paned enclosure.
He covered her breasts with his hands and her eyes flickered shut. She moaned and arched when he caught her nipples between his fingers. Her frame was narrow and he mapped every inch of it as he slowly ran the palms of his hands down her torso. He sank to his knees, then took her hips, making her gasp when he rolled her so she faced the shower wall. She twitched hard, gasping again as her nipples pushed into wet tile, and he wasn’t sure how he kept from just shoving her skirt up right then and there.
He ran his hands down her hips, then cupped her backside. How many times had he watched her walk away from him? How many times had he imagined doing exactly what he was doing right now? It still felt unreal, dreamlike. Except this was a damn sight better than any dream he’d ever had.
He tugged the zipper down, then slowly pushed the skirt and slip down over her hips. Now it was his turn to gasp. Hell, he almost swallowed his tongue. “Jesus,” he breathed as he uncovered the slim white garter and matching panties. Panties she wore over the garter, so he could just slide them off and . . . Dear Lord have mercy.
Despite the fact that his every touch made her twitch and push into his hands, she laughed a little. “I hate panty hose with a passion.”
“So do I,” he murmured devoutly as he helped her step out of the skirt. He ran his fingers up her silk-covered thighs, letting them drift along the soaked silk panel that ran in between them.
Laughter was replaced by a long, low groan. He rolled her again so her back was to the tile and her hands immediately went to his head. He chuckled against her inner thigh. “Did I mention that there are times when your single-minded drive turns me on?”
“I know we’re supposed to be shampooing you,” she managed, then jerked almost violently when his mouth closed over the wet silk. “But I guess that can wait.”
She sank her fingertips into his wet hair as he slid one finger beneath the silk, while never lifting his mouth. He shuddered hard, almost came when he slipped his finger inside her and she tightened around him immediately. He pushed the fabric aside so he could taste her as he pushed deeper inside her. He groaned as she tightened further, his body hardening painfully. She climbed the peak slowly, digging her fingers into his scalp. “Jesus,” he moaned, reveling in the taste of her, enjoying the scrape of her nails against his skin as it spiked him up higher. She pumped against him, faster, harder, groaning, then almost lost her balance as he finally wrenched her over the top.
They were both panting as he yanked her panties off. He stumbled a little before he managed to stand up, wishing like hell he’d gotten himself naked first. Getting his wet pants off now was going to be a bitch, and in his impatience he wanted to claw them off. Water streamed down his face and body as he forced himself to slow down. He steadied himself by planting a palm on the tile beside her head.
Her eyes were huge, sexy, drowsy with pleasure. Her smile was slow and even sexier as she dropped her hands to his waistband. “Let me help.”
He was never so thankful they were both on the same page. He wanted her with a force that was literally painful. “Right now, I’ll let you do anything you want.”
She merely lifted one eyebrow. Her hair, always so neatly twisted, had started to come loose. While she carefully worked his zipper, he gently pulled the pins free from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders in wet ropes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing her forehead, then the tip of her nose.
She laughed a little, though her voice was low and a bit rough. “Only a man who desperately needs to come would say that at the moment. I’m sure my mascara is dripping off my chin and my hair looks like—”
He cut her off with a kiss. A deep kiss whose ferocity surprised him as much as it did her. He wondered if she realized it had more to do with showing her exactly how she made him feel . . . than it did with shutting her up so they could get on with getting him off. And it was just as well he’d chosen to express himself this way. Because he had no idea what words he’d have used to describe the powerful, almost possessive feelings that roared through him as his body covered hers.
Never, not ever, had he felt such an intense need to . . . to protect, defend. And all those other archaic primal things men were supposed to feel about their women. All of which would have been laughable if he’d had even half a working brain at the moment. Not only was he no Neanderthal when it came to women, but the very last woman who’d ever be in need of his supposed male imperative was the one currently in his arms. He’d never met anyone more capable of taking care of herself than Valerie. Perversely, that only made the feelings that much stronger.
She managed to work his zipper down, then carefully peeled both pants and snug boxer briefs over his hips, finally, mercifully, freeing him. And just as mercifully distracting him from that very disconcerting track of thought he’d been on. He pushed away from the wall enough to shrug out of his shirt.
Valerie caught it, then unwadded it again.
“What?” he teased, amazed he could do so given his current state. “Somehow me in only a wet shirt doesn’t seem to carry the same hot factor as you in that garter and stockings.” He glanced down at her and sighed. “Which will be forever immortalized in my brain.” He found a smile. “In fact, how in the hell I’m going to ever look at you in those suit
s again and not get, well—”
“Like this?” she said, reaching down and circling him with her hand.
He jerked hard, almost fell against the tile, managed to nod as he was suddenly incapable of speech when she began to stroke him. His shirt dropped to the shower floor, leaving her holding the condom packet she’d pulled from the front pocket.
“Oh,” he managed.
She smiled. “Yeah. Oh.” She tore one open with her teeth.
He groaned, praying like hell he’d make it until she put the damn thing on. Just the idea of her hands smoothing it— “Jesus,” he groaned as she did just that.
Maybe it was the satisfied little smile, or the glint in her eye as she smiled up at him, but whatever the case, his last thread of control snapped. He grinned . . . and growled, though he couldn’t say which one made her gasp a little in surprise. Maybe it was the way he grabbed her wet, silk thighs and pushed her up against the tile as he wrapped them around his hips and pushed himself inside her in one deep stroke.
She gasped, then dug her nails into his shoulders and held on as he took her. And took her. He tried to slow down, but it was like something wild had been unleashed the moment he’d buried himself inside her. Home was the word that echoed through his mind, over and over, with each thrust. He felt such a strong sense of belonging, of . . . safety. Of absolute trust. Insane. He knew there was no such thing. And yet, he let it wash over him, rush through him, no longer questioning this thing he’d become with her. He’d come to his senses later. Surely.
Right now, all he could do was pull her more tightly around him and hold on for what felt like dear life as he rushed up and screamed over the edge. But even as the shuddering rage subsided, he held on. He didn’t want to let her go now, either. And he suspected he could stand here until the water ran cold, and that wouldn’t change. Exhausted and spent, his barriers deserted him. He could no longer claim that this need she’d spawned inside of him was about sex.
He pressed his lips against the curve of her neck, telling himself not to leap. Knowing it was already too late.
Love
Women think men look for sex, not love. But men want to love and be loved. It’s just hard for them to admit it. Admitting they want sex is easier.
Chapter 18
Valerie nudged at his chest, and Jack finally rolled to his back as he carefully let her slide off him. But when she began to stumble away from him, he tugged her back into his arms and held her there tightly against him.
Too tightly, she thought, with not a little wonder.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, nuzzling her neck again.
“For?”
He gentled his hold, but only so he could tuck her more comfortably against him. The tenderness of his touch after the way he’d just taken her mixed her up even further. But it felt good to stand in the shelter of his embrace, let the water beat against her back, let the dazed whirlwind of feelings and emotions swirling inside her hopefully settle back down into something that resembled rational thought.
He nudged at her jaw with his nose until she lifted her head enough to look at him. God, he was beautiful, was all she could think. Dark, wet hair and flushed skin, his gray eyes glinting almost silver as water droplets clung to his thick lashes. Her heart bumped painfully at the same mix of confused emotions she saw mirrored in his eyes. She didn’t need to fall for this man. Hot shower sex: yes. Dear God, yes. Anything more serious: Was she nuts?
“Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to be rough; I’ve never just lost it like that. I don’t know what came over me. I—”
“It’s okay,” she told him, willing herself not to read anything into his sincerely stunned-sounding confession. “I might have tiny tile-print marks permanently imprinted on my back—” She’d meant to tease, pull them out of this postcoital emotional overload they were both apparently feeling, and get them back to where they belonged with each other. Which was simply as two consenting adults who’d figured out how to have mind-blowing sex the first time out of the gate.
But the look of concern that flickered immediately to life in those eyes stopped her, surprised her . . . made her heart squeeze even tighter. She had to get out of here, get away from him, get her shit together before she did something really, really stupid. Like imagine herself starting some kind of real relationship with him. “I’m kidding. It was . . . You were . . .” She heard the awe in her voice, the wonder, and fought to curb it. She reached up, kissed his chin. “No complaints,” she said, hoping her grin was cheeky. Not adoring. “Now, what did we do with that shampoo?” She went to pull from his arms, only he wouldn’t let her go.
“Valerie—”
She couldn’t let herself hear whatever it was he was about to say. Which, judging from the look in his eyes, was something serious, something emotional. He’d thank her for saving him the embarrassment of recanting later, she told herself, as she firmly disengaged herself from his arms. Because surely whatever it was he was feeling, or thought he was feeling, was simply a by-product of what they’d just done with each other. So what if it had felt like something beyond explosive sex to her, too? She’d calm down with time. Stop feeling that way. Stop thinking about the look that had come into his eyes when he’d lost control and just taken her. Dear God, had he taken her.
She shook that thought free and turned to gather up the soap and shampoo. “You first, okay?” she said brightly, as if she always showered with a guy while wearing a garter belt and stockings.
He caught her elbow, tugged her back around. No teasing smile curved that wickedly gifted mouth of his, no cocky glint lit up those eyes. Still serious, still emotional. “Come here.”
“Jack—” she began, then stopped. She had no idea what she wanted to say to him.
“Just let me . . .” He trailed off as if he wasn’t quite sure of himself, either. He tugged her gently against him and it was that uncertainty they were both feeling that caved in whatever resistance she had.
Neither of them said anything, just stood there and let the shower beat down on them. After a while, he reached behind her and grabbed the soap and shampoo. Neither of them tried for light and playful as they soaped and sudsed each other. The mood was distinct for its quiet intensity, and though she suspected she’d regret it later, she allowed herself to sink into it, revel in the unique power of it. This was something she’d never felt, never experienced.
They used fluffy white towels, warmed on racks, to dry each other off. And when he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom, leaving stockings, pants, and garter lying sodden and unheeded behind them, it felt like the most natural thing in the world as he dragged the comforter off the bed, laid her amongst the white sheets and pillows, then joined her there. Their lovemaking this time was slow, gentle, almost unbearably sweet. All the things she’d have never imagined Jack Lambert capable of being. She raked her nails slowly up his back as he pushed inside her, arched her back, and couldn’t help but remember how angry he’d been, feeling like an imposter to those women in the audience.
If they only knew, she thought before letting go completely.
Prince Charming, indeed.
She wasn’t sure what time it was when she woke up, but the room was dark, as was the sky. She felt the warm heat of him next to her even before it all came back to her. She turned her head to find him propped up on one elbow, watching her. It was too dark to read what was in his eyes. Valerie thought that might be just as well, hoping he couldn’t read hers, either.
“Hungry?” he said, his voice rough and husky.
She wanted to stretch, revel a little in how languid and fulfilled she felt, then grin to bursting before yanking him on top of her again. She managed to refrain. Barely. “I could probably eat something.”
At any other time, Jack Lambert would have most likely shot her a cocky grin and made something suggestive out of that. But this Jack Lambert was someone she didn’t know as well, and surely couldn’t read. “I can order from room service. O
r we can get dressed and head out if you’d like.”
“What time is it?”
“Does it matter?”
Now she smiled. “In New York? Probably not.” She was stretching and grinning before she realized she’d given in to the instinct. “What do you want to do?”
She glanced at him and her vision had adjusted to the dark just enough to catch the glitter in his eyes. She shivered a little as pleasure raced over her and through her. Surely he wasn’t suggesting he could . . . again. But the mere idea of it had her toes curling in anticipation.
He drew a lazy circle around her navel with his fingertip. “I don’t have the stamina to do what I want to do.”
She grinned now. “Meaning, going out on the town after such a . . . workout, or staying in to work out some more?”
“Yes.”
She laughed, and caught the flash of his smile right before he kissed her. And felt her heart teeter on the edge . . . and fall off.
Damn.
“Actually,” he said, the mood shifting more effortlessly back to teasing than she’d expected, “I was debating whether it was worth the potential embarrassment, not to mention that squicky feeling, of going over to beg, borrow, or steal more condoms from our roommates.”
“Ah,” she said with mock sobriety. “I can see the dilemma.” She rolled to her side and propped herself up on one elbow, mirroring him. “I could go.”
He laughed, then made her squeal when he suddenly pulled her on top of him. “I want to take you out,” he said. “Do the town, see the sights.” His arms came around her. “And I want to keep you here, all to myself.”
Just in case. He didn’t say it, but she heard it nonetheless. Just in case the world intruded on this perfect little bubble in time. And burst it. Which it would, in any case. They both knew that.
Dear Prince Charming Page 26
