“Mmm.” I looked him up and down. Delicious. “Naked.” I reached for the closure of my dress at my neck.
“No. My turn.” He put my hands back down and first ran his fingers along my scalp, holding my face still. He kissed my temple, and I closed my eyes, just enjoying the feelings, his soft lips and gentle hands, the warmth emanating from his body and his smell, warm and piney and musky. I spread my hands on his chest because I loved to feel him.
He pressed his lips to my eyelids, first one then the other, then slid his mouth, half open, down my cheekbone, nibbling on my top lip, then the bottom. He pulled away before I could kiss him back and I whined, “Jack . . .”
“No words, remember?”
The jerk, but I stayed where I was, eyes closed, growling just a bit in frustration. He let his hand fall to my shoulder and stepped back. I opened my eyes ready to complain, but he was just staring at me, heavy lidded and sensual. He flicked the fastener at my neck and peeled the dress down, exposing my breast, nipples already straining for him, and then slipped it past my hips and ass until it could pool in a puddle of molten gold at my feet. Then, he took a step back.
He looked over my whole body as if he were memorizing me, as if nothing could be more beautiful or make him happier than looking at me naked.
He looked at me, his eyes glinting with humor, and walked towards me, tilting his head as if he were coming for a kiss. When I stretched to meet his lips, he danced around me, ending up behind me. “Mmm,” he murmured. His hands coasted down my back and hips to my ass, then he slid them around my waist and pulled me into him.
It was so good to be pressed up against him, so good to feel him, all along my back and ass and thighs. I reached back and looped my arms around his neck, arching my back. He tweaked my nipples, rolling them until I moaned in pleasure. Then, one hand snuck down and fingered me until I was writhing. “Fuck me, Jack; please, now.”
“Not yet.” His breath was hot in my ear, his strong arms holding me up as my climax hit me and I went weak in the knees. I panted in his arms, wanting to turn to kiss him, but he wouldn’t let me.
He swept me up in his arms and laid me gently on the bed, spreading my hair out, caressing my face and neck and chest.
“Kiss me,” I panted.
He shook his head, hands driving me wild, lips sucking at my breasts, nibbling, licking, teasing me. I clenched my fists into the sheets pulling at them trying to find some way to manage all the feelings that were rising in me again when his tongue landed on my sensitive flesh, and he licked me until I was near insensible. He slid two fingers inside of me and rubbed a spot that made my hips lift off of the bed. He held me down and licked harder.
“Jack . . . Jack . . . oh . . . .Jack . . .” The whimpers took over until I was keening and couldn’t stop. The orgasm rolled over me, and I was left gasping. He kissed his way up my body where I could finally grab him and drag him into my kiss. He tasted of me. He was mine. Mine. My Jack. I needed him. I needed him more than I’d ever needed another person. “Please,” I begged him. “Please, oh please . . .” I panted and babbled, without words to tell him entirely what it was I wanted, or needed, but he seemed to know anyway.
“Okay, love,” he said, his husky voice sending shivers through my body that was already wrung out and exhausted. I closed my eyes and just waited for him to take me. Then, he was there, thrusting into me, deep and sure, filling me up with something more, something I had never had before, something that reached the deepest parts of me.
He rocked into me, slow and sensually, grasping my thigh and lifting me to fit him just right.
Just right. Everything was just right. The sensations rolled through my body, and my head fell back in overwhelm.
“No,” he said, a deep and dark word. His fingers, bands of steel, were at the back of my neck again, tilting my head back to him; he kissed me so gently, I felt a part of me break free. “Look at me, Mona. Keep looking at me. I need to see your face.”
I nodded, mouth dry, but I didn’t look away. His body moved over me and set off unbearable pleasures in my body, but his eyes never left mine. They were so warm and dark, with hints of honey and whiskey in them. His eyes told me how much he felt for me. His eyes told me that he loved me. But there were no words, like we’d promised. And there was a reason I had said no words. I didn’t want those words out there. I didn’t want him to say them, and I didn’t want the answering ones that I would feel compelled to say. His eyes told me what I wouldn’t let him speak. As long as he didn’t speak, I could pretend that this would go on forever, this moment, this love, this connection. He wanted me to be lost in him. He wanted me to reach the peak again and again. I knew he held off, for me. I knew. His dark brows were drawn in concentration as he tried to bring me again.
I lifted a hand to caress his cheekbone, his brow, down the straight arrow of his nose. My thumb outlined his lower lip, and he kissed it, the slightest smile, before biting his lip and slowing. “Not yet,” he murmured.
“Come, Jack. I want you to.”
“You first.”
I laughed and the sound was low in my chest. “Oh Jack, I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never been with anyone like . . .” No more receiving. I wanted to give. I wrapped my legs around his back and urged up into him. “Come, baby.”
“Come with me,” he said, shifting so that he touched me in all new places. My eyes rolled back in my head. “Look at me, Mona. I want to see you come.” I focused on him again. And what I saw in his face was more than just great sex. It was making love. That’s what we were doing. Because the love was already there.
And then, I was sweating and screaming, and he held onto me tightly while he broke. His love poured into me. It received it and I knew everything was changed, utterly changed.
He slept.
After a long night of making love, orgasm after orgasm, he finally let himself rest, as if he’s been pushing to show me everything we could have. And it was everything. It was soul stirring. He was inside of me now, and I didn’t think he’d ever leave. Damn him.
I smiled as he slept. I’d never seen him so calm, so at peace. I watched him, his beautiful face calm while feathering my fingers through his hair, and he didn’t stir. I’d thought he had asked me on this trip to get me into bed, and that is where I ended up. But I realized that wasn’t why he asked me. He had been really nervous about this trip, the presentation, the crowds, even Valencia. He’d asked me because he’d wanted me to come with him. He’d wanted me, specifically, because . . . he liked me. Maybe even cared about me.
No, that was me making up stories. He definitely cared about me, no maybe about it. And I cared about him, too.
My heart started tripping fast at my own lies.
I didn’t care about him. I loved him. I had fallen in love with him. And I thought that he maybe loved me, too. I let out a breath that sounded halfway between a sob and a laugh. Oh. This was no fling. This was no simple desire. This was not an itch that we were both scratching. This was something real.
And that terrified me.
I’d seen it before—with all my friends. With all the women who came to my house to be saved and protected. I’d seen what happens when someone loves and the love goes wrong. I’d seen how it reflected down onto the next generation with my best friend April, how terrified she was that she would be betrayed like her mother. And in Jack. His sad past trying to be like his father and dooming Marissa.