Читать книгу Back in His Bed - Heidi Rice, Aimee Carson - Страница 13

BRENNA’S throat felt tight. It was very fair. More than she could have hoped for, actually. Jack looked shocked. What had he expected? It wasn’t as if she had much room to bargain. In fact she was shocked he’d been so accommodating. He could have just continued to hound her until she gave in. Because, though she hadn’t admitted it to anyone, deep down she’d known she would have eventually buckled under the pressure.

“You agree to those terms?” Jack seemed a little surprised at her easy acceptance.

She nodded and drank deeply from her glass, hoping the beer would loosen the constriction around her vocal cords. It didn’t.

Jack sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. “I’m glad to hear it. There’s no sense dragging this out endlessly.”

He was being mighty friendly for someone who’d gone ten rounds with her the night before. And this offer, coming out of nowhere like a gift from the gods…What was the catch? Stealth maneuvers and shady business weren’t Jack’s style at all, though. Maybe there wasn’t a catch. “I agree. I assume, though, you won’t object if I have my attorney read this before I sign.”

“Don’t you trust me?” His lips twitched in amusement.

She snorted. “Based on what? Our long, happy history?”

Jack tilted his head, acknowledging the truth to her statement, and shrugged.

“What’s the saying? ‘Trust, yet verify’? I think on something this important, I should be sure I know exactly what I’m signing.”

“That’s a sound plan, Bren. But since there’s no trapdoors to worry about, I look forward to hearing from your lawyer sometime next week.” He raised his bottle in a small toast. “To equitable solutions.”

“I’ll drink to that.” She drained her glass with the toast. Oddly enough, the knots of tension in her stomach finally released a little. After being tied up for so long, the relief felt alien.

Although she did fully intend to go over that agreement with a microscope to be sure, she realized she trusted Jack enough to believe it said what he claimed. She was just glad to have the end of this nightmare in sight.

And it felt really good, even if her hands were still shaking from making a stand.

Jack turned up his bottle and drained it as well. “Another?” he asked as he stood and crossed behind her to the kitchen.

“Please.” She heard glass clinking, and the tiny psfft as Jack opened the bottles. Maybe she should choose something a bit stronger. It wasn’t late, by any stretch of the imagination, but if Jack was starting his second beer it meant he didn’t plan on heading back to the city tonight. As he settled back into his seat Brenna realized he might decide to spend the evening in here. With her.

Last night’s events were too fresh to ignore, and the memories came back in a disturbing rush of sensation and emotion. Goosebumps formed on her skin as she remembered the feel of his fingers teasing over her stomach, and the sincere shock in his eyes when she had accused him of not loving her. She closed her eyes, only to be met with a vision of water tracing down Jack’s chest in the dim patio lights. She quickly opened her eyes and focused on the painting on the far wall as she took deep breaths. The room felt overly warm, and the beer she gulped didn’t help cool her any.

Maybe she should go grab the bottle of port. Dull the edges a bit with something more fortified—and fortifying—than beer.

“No big plans for your Friday night?” Jack asked, snapping her back to the present.

Conversation. Focus on the conversation. “This is it. We lack a happening club scene out here. Much to my dismay, of course.” Jack snorted, and took another sip of his beer. “But I could ask you the same thing.” She was a happy homebody, while Jack was a social creature—and a popular one, she knew. His life was usually one exciting event after another; surely he had something better to do on a Friday night.

“Well, I’d planned to have a shouting match with you tonight, but it seems like that’s been shot down.” He winked at her. “Not that I mind, of course, but it has freed up my evening unexpectedly.”

“I could throw some insults at you anyway, if you’d like,” she offered, in what she hoped was a helpful, teasing tone. It would certainly help her keep her mind away from dangerous places. At the same time, though, it was nice not to be at daggers drawn with him.

“Pass.” Jack stared out through the French doors at the dark vineyard, and she wondered what he was thinking about. It was easier, though, than having him look at her, and she was glad for the reprieve. The house normally seemed so big and empty, but with Jack here she felt slightly claustrophobic.

How could he look so relaxed? Feet propped up, settled back comfortably in her second favorite chair, he looked very much like the monarch of the glen as he casually lifted the bottle to his lips. His throat worked as he swallowed, calling her attention to the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, where the crisp white cotton looked stark against his tanned neck and the dark hair that just brushed the collar.

She knew what it felt like to run her fingers over the hard muscles at the nape of his neck and thread them through the inky softness—he’d worn it longer when he was younger, and she remembered how it had tickled her skin like a silky caress…

“Don’t you get lonely out here, Bren?”

She jumped as he spoke, and felt the guilty flush rise up her neck again. Thankfully, Jack was still focused on the vineyard; maybe he hadn’t noticed her inappropriate stare. “Don’t you mean bored?” she challenged, out of habit.

“No, I meant lonely.” There was no sarcasm in his voice, and when he did turn to look at her she only saw sincere curiosity on his face.

She regretted her snark instantly. “A little. It’s been tough since Max died—being alone, that is. The house is awfully big for just one person.” She shrugged and stared into her glass, wishing for another beer. “I’ve been thinking about getting a puppy, though. I could use the company.”

Jack seemed to read her mind, and he made the short trek to the kitchen and returned with another bottle for them both. She skipped the glass this time, and held her own bottle by the neck as she drank. Drinking this much this fast was going to give her one hell of a headache tomorrow, but she needed the balm for her nerves.

Instead of returning to his seat, Jack pulled a cushion off the chair and tossed it to the floor beside the couch. As he lowered himself to the floor, he asked, “Do you mind? My back’s a little tight from my racquetball game today and the drive back.”

“Be my guest.” She shifted on the couch, turning to her side to face him more easily in his new position. Jack closed his eyes and stretched, and Brenna’s pulse kicked up as she watched. Keep the conversation going. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, a puppy. Something big, like a Boxer or a Rottweiler.”

Jack smiled without opening his eyes. “And to think you wanted that little Corgi puppy before.”

“We lived in a suite in a hotel.” A dark eyebrow went up. “Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a shoebox apartment, but still, it didn’t seem fair to a bigger dog to not have a yard.” Jack’s grin was heartstopping. She’d forgotten what it was like. “Maybe I’ll get two. They can keep each other company. Play together.”

“Then who will play with you?” he asked softly.

Her heart skipped a beat and she reached for her drink again. “It’s not like I’m a hermit out here. I’ve got Dianne and Ted and the baby—not to mention the people who work here every day.”

“And that’s enough for you? You don’t have any other…uh…company?”

She nearly choked on her drink. She swallowed and coughed painfully. “Are you seriously asking me about my love-life?”

Jack shrugged—a strange movement, considering his position. “I have to admit, I’m a bit curious.”

“You should have asked me that before you propositioned me last night.”

Jack’s eyes popped open, and she saw a strange light there in the dark blue depths. “Probably,” he answered, and she realized too late she’d said that last thought aloud.

Damn it, she should have stopped after her second beer. Now her liquor-loosened tongue had taken her smack into the middle of the one topic she’d desperately wanted to avoid. “Just forget it.”

He levered himself into a sitting position, putting him a little too close for Brenna’s comfort. Those broad shoulders were only inches from her. “I’m finding that difficult to do.”

She mustered her bravado, but it was still shaky from Jack’s simple proximity. “Guilty conscience?”

“Not at all. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

She thought of his fingers trailing over her collarbone. We’ve always had this. She fought back the shiver. “And you don’t think your little ‘bargain’ was crass in any way?”

He didn’t even have the decency to look the least bit chagrined. Instead, he seemed to be fighting back a smile. “It may have lacked finesse, but my motives were clear.”

“Once more for old times’ sake?” Her voice shook, completely destroying the casual tone she was hoping for.

“Is that really such a shocker, Bren? The pool, the moonlight…Are you denying it stirred up some fond memories for you, too?”

“Emphatically.” She just needed to keep reminding herself of that.

“You’re a bad liar. I was there, remember? I had my hands on you. I felt the way you shivered when you remembered exactly how good we were together.”

“In bed, maybe. But I also remember the rest of our, ahem, ‘conversation’ last night. That also brought back memories—not all of them fond ones.”

“We had some good times. You can’t deny that.” His hand came up to play with her hair.

“Not enough to tip the balance.” She shuddered as his hand moved to her face. “We said—and did—some pretty horrible things to each other.”

He shrugged away months of arguments and years of pain with “We were young. I’m not carrying a grudge. Are you?”

“From then? Or now?” she countered, mainly to keep him talking. She couldn’t pull away, but this was moving into dangerous territory.

“Ten years is a long time to carry a grudge.” His eyes searched her face and she shivered. “Me? I’m grudge-free.”

“Then, here’s to putting the past behind us. Should we drink to that?” Anything to put a little distance between them.

Jack shook his head slightly. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then traced his fingers over the curve of her jaw. “Beautiful. Tempting. Stubborn.”

He was close—too close—his face only inches from hers. The gentle caress over sensitive skin and his husky, seductive voice sucked her in, while those blue eyes captured her and led her straight into temptation.

And she desperately wanted to go. Every nerve in her body screamed for Jack to touch her. Her skin begged for it. She’d suffered the aftermath of last night all day—the achy need, the smoldering want. Her mouth went dry as Jack’s hand curved around the nape of her neck and his thumb smoothed over the tense muscles.

Just one more time. Do you think you’ll ever get this chance again? Once her signature was on those papers, she’d have no reason to see Jack again. That thought put a strange hollow feeling in her chest—one that felt oddly familiar, yet strange, because until yesterday she would have sworn she was long over him.

Jack reached up to remove the clip holding her hair back, and his fingers threaded through the mass to massage her scalp. She closed her eyes in bliss as the tension drained out of her, only for it to be replaced with an aching need. When she opened her eyes again she met Jack’s stare, and gasped at the hunger and promise she saw there.

She was lost and she knew it. She always was when Jack looked at her like that. Anger, bruised pride, indignant huffs—none of it was able to stand firm against the need and desire he could fire in her.

Jack seemed to know the moment she made up her mind, and he surged to his knees, pulling her to him and covering her mouth with his.

Yesss. Oh, yes.

It wasn’t gentle. Or nostalgic or sweet. Jack met her hunger head-on and returned it, his mouth devouring hers. His fingers tightened in her hair, holding her head still as his tongue slid over hers, and she shivered in response.

Jack broke the kiss, sliding his mouth over her jaw to the sensitive skin of her neck. She panted, gasping for air as his teeth grazed her, and she tilted her head back to allow him greater access even as her fingers threaded through his hair to hold him there.

She hadn’t forgotten this, but the memory was bland compared to the reality. She groaned, and Jack echoed the sound before his arms locked around her waist and he pulled her off the couch and into his lap.

The feel of Jack’s hard body against hers as she straddled his thighs sent tremors through her insides, and she pressed into him, craving the heat and pressure. She pulled at his shirt, bunching it into her hands until she could reach underneath to feel the smooth planes of muscle on his back.

Jack’s hot mouth traced her collarbone as his hands slid over her hips to her waist, and finally her ribs, where his thumbs could stroke teasingly against the undersides of her breasts. Her nipples tightened with anticipation and she arched back in invitation.

Instead, Jack pulled her close, his mouth covering hers again, his hands snaking under the hem of her shirt and sliding it up with agonizing slowness. He broke the kiss to sweep the fabric over her head, then gently leaned her back, supporting her with one hand while the other grazed gently over the expanse of her chest and in the valley between her aching breasts.

Brenna shivered, enjoying the tease of his touch yet hating the delay. She was on fire, needing more of him—all of him—before the anticipation killed her. One finger circled her nipple, causing her to clench her thighs around his as the pleasure rippled through her. The corner of Jack’s mouth turned up in pleasure at her response as he drove her slowly insane with his featherlight touch.

Brenna concentrated on her shaking hands, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. Clumsily, she managed to work them through their holes, pausing occasionally to bite her lip when Jack’s slow, deliberate torture became too much. Finally, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, and his chest was hers to touch.

She echoed his movements, running her fingertips over the ridge of his pecs, teasing his nipples with her nails. His fingers tightened on her waist when he shuddered in pleasure.

A split second later Jack flipped her to her back, her head landing on the cushion he’d used earlier, and his body finally covered hers. She moaned at the sensation of skin against skin, at the heat and weight of his body nestled in the vee of her legs. How could she have forgotten this? The memories paled in comparison to the reality. How had she ever walked away from this? Jack’s kiss sent her head spinning, but when his head dipped lower to capture her nipple between his lips fireworks exploded behind her eyes and she groaned his name.

The sound seemed to spur him, and he suckled harder, causing her to nearly arch off the floor as pleasure shot through her. When his weight shifted off her, she reached for his waist to pull him back, but let her hand fall away when she felt the snap of her shorts release and the zipper give way.

Her stomach tightened under his hand as it slid low and his fingertips tickled along the edge of her panties, while Jack’s mouth returned to hers for a shattering kiss. But one rational thought surfaced and made a weak, last-ditch effort: This is the point of no return. Are you sure?

Her body answered first, twisting toward him, granting access, but Jack seemed to hesitate briefly, his kiss gentling as if he knew she was fighting one last battle against herself.

Yes.

She knew what Jack could do to her body; the guaranteed pleasure awaiting her. But she’d been faced with the hard fact today that she wasn’t as immune to him as she’d long assumed, and deep down she knew she’d be setting herself up for a bad fall in the morning, when Jack walked out of her life again.

Was it worth the risk?

Then Jack pushed the thin silk aside, and his fingers found her heated, needy center. Flames licked through her, leaving her panting against his kiss.

Oh, yes.

Jack felt the last of the uncertainty leave her body just as her thighs clamped around his hand and she shuddered in pleasure. He felt as if he was holding a live wire, and each little sound, every gasp, every tremor, zinged through him like raw electricity.

The need to taste her, to take her, bordered on painful—even more so than the pressure against his zipper—but Brenna was already on the brink. She tore her mouth away and buried her face in his shoulder, muffling low, guttural noises. Brenna’s nails bit into his arms, holding him in place while she moved restlessly against his hand and he took her over the edge.

She was still throbbing around his finger when she lifted her face to his. Her cheeks were flushed, but her brown eyes were clear and burning—for him. Oh, no, his Bren wasn’t done yet; she was still on fire. And, while he’d seen that look before and had even expected it, the raw hunger there slammed into him, causing his breath to catch.

Brenna held his gaze as she released his arm and smoothed her fingers over the half-moon marks her nails had left. Then she lifted her hips, sliding her shorts and panties off and kicking them away quickly. A second later she released his zipper and grasped his straining erection. She moved so quickly she was an erotic blur, but at the feel of her hot hand on him he exhaled sharply, and closed his eyes to savor the sensation. Brenna had never been a meek partner, but there was an urgency behind her desire this time. He could feel it—in her heated touch, in the desperate movement of her lips, and through the maddening press of her body against his.

He could relate. The same knife-edge cut through him.

When his hand cupped her breast again she hissed and rolled to her back, pulling him over her.

“Now, Jack,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

He wanted to slow her down, to savor the feel and taste of her, relearn her skin, but the desperate “Please…” she added had him adjusting her hips, parting her thighs, and driving into her so hard he saw stars.

Brenna’s back bowed, nearly lifting her completely off the rug, and her fingers dug into his biceps for support. A sheen of moisture covered her body, and he could see the tiny trembles already moving through her. Her tight, throbbing warmth was sanity-snatching, and his hips moved of their own accord.

As he eased slowly out Brenna’s head snapped up, her eyes connecting with his as her legs locked around his waist. Gathering her close to his body, he shifted his weight to his elbows and met her halfway as she thrust against him.

He held Brenna’s stare as they rocked together, until her eyes glazed over and she buried her face in his shoulder again. He felt the nip of her teeth against his skin as short, sharp cries told him she was falling over the edge. Then Brenna tensed against him, shaking violently with the power of her orgasm. The sensation took him over with her and he groaned as he collapsed on top of her.

It took a long time for reality to return, and when it did it came in pieces. The delicious weight of Jack covering her. The scratch of the wool rug against her back. The sound of Jack’s breathing evening out next to her ear. The thump of Jack’s heart against her chest. The lovely languorous feeling only a truly mind-scrambling orgasm could provide.

And Jack was the only one who’d ever been able to scramble her mind like that.

Jack had been right about one thing: no matter what else, they’d always had this. She stroked the back of his head absently, loving the silky feel of his hair between her fingers.

Jack stirred. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he brushed the hair back from her face before leaning in to give her a slow, stirring kiss. Then his lips curled into a breath-stopping smile. “Better?”

She felt her face heat. He’d seen—and felt—that edge of her desperation. She tried to match his smile and act casual. “Oh, yeah. I’m feeling much better now.”

“Good.” He kissed her forehead, rolled off, and pushed to his feet. He looked like a god standing over her—all golden-skin and lean muscle. She could stare at him forever and never get tired of the view. She let her eyes trail appreciatively over his body before meeting his amused eyes.

He extended his hand and she took it, letting him pull her up. A moment later her feet were swept out from under her, and she found herself pressed against Jack’s chest.

But Jack didn’t turn in the direction of the hallway to her room, or toward the kitchen and the far side of the house where his room was. Instead, he moved toward the French doors.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“The hot tub.”