by Jordan, Skye
She managed a weak “Jack” and a few more choice curses. And even though he’d professed patience, she hadn’t expected any. Men were good at talking the talk, but once she got them into bed, they rushed. Some had no patience for foreplay. Some clumsily attempted to please her—for all of two minutes.
But this man had the kind of single-minded focus that killed brain cells. She felt them pop and sizzle as his fingers penetrated and stretched. As his tongue teased and tasted, his other hand slid up her belly, past her ribs, and covered one breast. A solid squeeze blended with a rolling growl. His fingers found her nipple. His lips found her clit.
“Fuck.” She shivered as the orgasm coiled deep in her body. “Ah God, Jack.”
The wave crested, then hung there, promising delirious ecstasy. Miranda released the ledge, drove her other hand into his hair, and cradled his head in both hands. With a groan of pleasure, Jack finally let go, gripping her ass and pulling her in, and ate at her like he was starving.
The orgasm hit like a lightning strike, quick and hard, driving pleasure deep and sharp. Light exploded behind her eyes, frying her brain. Her muscles tensed, released, coiled again. Jack was a thundering summer storm, driving shock wave after shock wave of pleasure through her body.
Just as the rioting in her body calmed, Jack stood. The sudden shift made Miranda dizzy. When she tried to open her eyes, the shower spun. She felt the water pelting her skin. The humidity steaming the enclosure. Her breaths, coming fast and shallow. The thrum of her heartbeat in her ears.
Jack held on to her thigh as he stood. He hooked it at his hip and pushed her against the shower wall. The tiles snapped cold against her skin. He kissed her, hard and deep, then pulled away to look into her eyes. His gaze was sharp and hot, holding hers with purpose as he rocked his hips and worked himself inside her. Steady, measured thrusts buried his cock deeper, inch by inch. His gaze seemed to convey a deliberate, confident conquest.
Miranda relaxed against the wall and relished the feeling of him driving deeper, deeper, deeper. The pressure building, building, building. Tightening her throat. Flooding her chest. Just when she didn’t think he could get any deeper, Jack hooked his other hand around her free thigh, pulling her off her feet and locking her against the wall. His hips lunged forward, thrusting with the full power of well-developed glutes. Working himself inside her until he was imbedded. Until she felt completely controlled. Possessed. Owned.
All in a good way. Good both mentally and physically. She felt both light and heavy. Sated and hungry. Dizzy and grounded.
Jack stilled, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest with quick breaths. Head tilted down, water streamed over his head, down his face, collecting on long eyelashes and dripping off his nose. “Are you okay?”
His question didn’t immediately register. Miranda had to play it over and over in her mind to make sense of it. Only when he lifted his head and looked into her eyes did it click. She could see the fire raging inside him. His barely contained need. She couldn’t remember ever being so acutely aware of the here and now. Had never experienced a moment so vivid. So clear. So intense.
Instead of answering, she took his face in both hands and kissed him. Long and deep. Wet and wild. Pulling away only long enough to place her order. “Fuck me.”
Something hot flashed in his eyes. Something a little wicked. A little wild. He tightened his grip on her thighs and pulled her hips into him as he thrust. Their pelvises met with a solid, definitive slap, and pleasure instantly whipped through her.
“Yes.” She curved one hand around the back of his neck, slid the other into his hair.
He dropped his forehead to hers. Pulled out of her so slowly, she could feel every long, thick inch of him retreating until just the tip of his cock remained. She whimpered at the sensation of emptiness. Actually fucking whimpered.
She would have been embarrassed, but he rocked his hips forward and filled her with a hard, quick thrust, driving a sound of surprise and pleasure from her throat.
His head lifted, and he looked directly into her eyes. Searching. Seeing. “You feel so fucking good.”
His hair was slicked back from his face, water droplets glistening on his eyelashes, rivulets streaming over his wide shoulders, down his hard chest. His gaze was dark with lust. His muscles bunching beneath his skin. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as he forced her legs even wider. And began to move again.
His thrusts were full, deep, measured, and controlled. So damn controlled. He had her trapped against the wall. He owned all the power now. How fast or slow he moved. How deep or shallow he thrust. Where he put his mouth. What he did with his hands.
Right now, he owned her.
“Faster. More.” Miranda had one arm hooked around his neck, the other over his shoulder, her nails in his back. “Please.”
A smile flickered over his mouth. Triumph? Accomplishment? Pride? She couldn’t nail it down before it was gone, melted into the molten heat between them.
“Patience.” His voice was deep and raspy. “And passion. That’s what I promised.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he thrust again. Pleasure arced up her spine, bowing her against the wall. Jack lowered his head and took the nipple of one breast into his mouth. He continued the steady rock of his hips as he took her nipple between his teeth and added pressure. As if there were a direct connection from her breast to her clit, Miranda took a giant step toward the ledge of orgasm. But he released pressure too soon, sucking and licking to ease the sting of his bite.
Her head swam. “Goddammit, Jack.”
He growled against her skin, and finally, finally, quickened his pace without sacrificing depth. That was all it took to shove her over the edge. The orgasm bucked through her, wringing a cry from her throat and tensing every muscle with pleasure.
A second later, Jack swore as he climaxed. His muscles turned to rock, and guttural, deeply satisfied sounds ebbed from his chest.
They hadn’t even caught their breath before he swore again. “Fuck.” He hit the shower control until the water turned cold. “Too hot.”
He dropped his forehead against her shoulder again and sighed. He leaned into her, holding her up with his body weight instead of his strength. His body loosened, and he went still. His breathing slowed.
Miranda let herself drift in a euphoric haze, too aware of how quickly this would end. How harsh reality would feel.
She stroked his neck, his shoulders. Traced the shape of his ear. Might have fallen asleep if he hadn’t lifted his head.
He smiled at her. Happy. Relaxed. Satisfied. Sweet. “I haven’t had sex that good in fucking forever.”
His rough, languid voice made Miranda smile. She combed all ten fingers into his hair. “Same.”
5
Jack was exhausted, but it was a good, sated, blissful kind of exhaustion. He lay sideways on the bed, his head on Miranda’s stomach. Her fingers skimmed through his hair and traced his face. He could still hear her heart tripping from her last orgasm. This night had been a one-of-a-kind marathon.
Sunrise crept into the sky, signaling their limited time left together before the world intruded, and Jack found himself growing anxious about parting, worried he’d never see her again. And even though they’d only known each other for hours, he couldn’t deny that he was invested.
They hadn’t talked much unless it was to express pleasure, and they’d been way too caught up in each other to pause for a look at those pictures she’d asked about earlier. Now, with their time together coming to a close, he had all kinds of questions.
“Does your family live here?” he asked, his words slurring a little with fatigue.
“No real family to speak of.”
He tilted his head and looked up at her. “Really?”
“My mom died of cirrhosis a few years ago, and she wasn’t exactly motherly to begin with. Never knew my father. I have two half siblings, but we aren’t close.”
He took her han
d, kissed the palm and threaded their fingers. “And this father figure you mentioned?”
“He’s the only one of my mom’s many boyfriends who actually acted like an adult. I think my mom stayed with him as long as she did because he kept me in line, which was no small job.”
“You raised hell, huh?”
“That I did.”
“He lives here?”
She nodded. “We stayed close after he’d had enough of my mom’s bullshit. I’ve camped on his sofa a number of times when things were rocky or tight over the years. He’s a really good man.”
He lifted her arm and ran his fingers across small scars on her hand and forearm. He’d seen a few others in his travels of discovering her body—a couple of small marks on her face, neck, chest, thigh. They looked like burns. “Where’d you get these?”
She lifted both hands and looked at them. “Learning to weld.”
That surprised him. Then he remembered the man she’d thrown out of the bar and grinned. “Right. Cody.”
“Tell me about your family.”
“My mom passed away last year. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He sighed. “My dad hasn’t been doing well since she passed. They were married fifty-one years.”
“That’s…wow. I thought that kind of thing only happened on the Hallmark Channel.”
He chuckled and threaded their fingers. “They were good together, but he’s been on a downward spiral for the last year. He’s depressed, forgets a lot, doesn’t take care of the house or his business or himself. He’s lost a lot of weight and become weak. It’s hard to watch. My sister’s been picking up all the slack. I didn’t realize how bad it was until she had a meltdown and called me in tears. I was in Australia.”
He shook his head at the guilt that stayed with him. “I knew he was depressed, but not to this degree. Anyway, Jen has been taking care of everything, but she works, has a husband who travels, and three boys, Jacob, James, and Joshua.”
“Your family likes J names.”
“A tradition. My dad is Jonathan—goes by Jon, and my mom was Julia. Jen is damn good at managing everything, but Mom’s death and now Dad’s problems tipped her over the edge. I’ve been really busy at work and haven’t been pulling my weight here. I’m just trying to help where I can.” A lull fell, and the silence felt infused with comfort and warmth. “Can I ask how old you are?”
“Our ages don’t matter.”
If tonight was the end of them, she was right. But he didn’t want this to be the end. “You’re right.” He paused, then grinned up at her. “Tell me anyway.”
“When you smile at me like that…” She sighed. “I’m thirty. You?”
“Thirty-five next month.” He rolled to his stomach and propped himself up on his forearms.
She looked down the length of him. “That’s one incredible view, Mr. Taylor.” When her gaze returned to his, she rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“The let’s-do-this-again-sometime look.”
His chest compressed, expelling all his air. “So, this is really just a one-time thing?” He ran a hand down her sleek thigh. “Even though we’re nuclear together?”
She smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair. “Relationships aren’t my thing.”
“Random hookups are?”
She gave him a look. “Not the way you’re thinking.”
“I’m not judging, just trying to figure out your ground rules.”
“My ground rules are simple—no attachments. Especially not to swaggering, sexy men living in New York. Believe me when I tell you I’m doing you a favor.”
This was going to be harder than he’d expected. He pressed a kiss to her hipbone where an infinity symbol was tattooed in words: Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future. She smelled like him, soap, and sex. Heat gathered across his hips again. This woman made him feel twenty.
“What if we were to, say, randomly meet again while I’m in town?” he asked.
“That would be quite a coincidence.”
“Or what if we randomly met up when I came to town to see my family?”
“That,” she said, her voice dipping with discouragement, “would be a pattern.”
“Sounds like a pattern would be a problem for you.”
Her gaze softened, and she slid the tip of her index finger down his nose. “How often do you visit?”
A grin blasted across his face. “I’d visit a lot more for a coincidental meeting with you.”
She laughed, pushed away, and sat up. “I’ve got to get going.”
He caught her wrist. “Why?”
She smiled back at him, over the shoulder with another text tattoo: She flies by her own wings. “Because I have to be somewhere at eight, which gives me only enough time to catch a shower, grab my things, and get there. And, thanks to you, I’m exhausted.”
They’d napped off and on, Miranda draped over him or Jack snuggled up behind her. Sheets had hit the floor almost immediately, and both he and the bed had gotten a real workout.
“Another job?” he asked.
“Not today. Today it’s a volunteer gig I do with veterans.”
“That’s cool.”
Jack had never believed in love at first sight or lust to love or, well, hookups like this one, but now, he wanted more. And not only for the amazing sex.
He pulled her palm to his lips for a kiss. “At the risk of sounding stupid, I have to say, I’m ridiculously into you. I know we just met, but I feel like I’ve known you so much longer.”
“You’re a great guy, Jack. Krystall was an idiot.”
“Have dinner with me. The next night you’re free. We can go somewhere you’ve always wanted to go but haven’t. I’ll take you anywhere.”
“That’s sweet, but experience has taught me to stick with my no-seconds rule.” She stood and sauntered into the bathroom, completely at ease with her stunning nakedness. “And I don’t need a sugar daddy.”
Jack watched her go with a groan. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He should let her go. Savor the steamy memories they’d made tonight and move on. Instead, he rolled out of bed and wandered to the bathroom, picking up her clothes along the way. He leaned his shoulder against the jamb and watched her dress.
She snapped her bra closed, glanced down the length of his body, and sighed. “You are one beautiful man.” Then she picked up his boxer briefs and tossed them at him. “Cover up before I change my mind.”
Grinning, he chucked the boxers over his shoulder.
Miranda started laughing. She laughed so hard, she doubled over. The sound of her joy bubbled through Jack’s blood, making him feel drunk again.
Shaking her head, she pressed a hand to his chest as she squeezed past. Jack circled her waist with one arm and pulled her back against him. Her groan said I need to go but it’s so hard to leave. He pressed kisses to the curve of her neck, and she melted back against him.
“It’s only dinner,” he murmured between kisses.
She pulled from his arms and shimmied into her jeans. “How long will you be in town?”
“Unsure. A couple of weeks. Maybe more.”
She shook her head as she pulled her tank on. “This is a really busy time for me.”
He pulled on his boxers, then sat on the edge of the bed and watched her slide into her boots, wind her hair into a messy knot, and secure it with a band.
“I’ll squeeze into your schedule,” he told her.
She paused at the door, clearly battling with herself.
“At least think about it.” Jack went to her, slid his arms around her, and pulled her into a bear hug. “Thanks for an unforgettable night.”
He set her on her feet and kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. Until she finally pulled away with another groan, murmuring, “I’ll think about it.”
Then she was gone. And Jack realized too late he hadn’t got
ten her phone number or her last name.
6
Miranda found herself singing along with the radio on the drive home. Smiling as she passed through the handmade gate of Marty’s property, where she lived in one of three trailers.
She felt loose and light. Thoroughly satisfied and happy. No reservations over her night with Jack. Her only regret—he wouldn’t be staying in town. Her only issue—he was clearly a man she could get attached to. And that combination didn’t work for Miranda. But it did give her a sense of hope that there were still men out there who could interest her in something beyond one night. That hadn’t happened in years. She didn’t consider it an urgent problem, because her biological clock had broken a long time ago. She didn’t plan on having kids. Her heart, on the other hand, did get lonely, even if she hated to admit it, even to herself.
“What a night.” She sighed, following the curving gravel drive toward what she affectionately referred to as “the compound.” She, Marty, and Elaina, Marty’s mother, all had a trailer on the property, each set up to be close enough to socialize, far enough apart for privacy.
It was a stunning spring day, the air crisp, the sun warm.
Life was good.
When Miranda crested the sloping path, the land opened up into a place she and Marty had worked hard to manicure into a truly lovely settlement. Picnic tables and barbeques squatted under a stand of big leafy cedar and black walnut trees. A couple of hammocks were strung between elms and poplars, amid a smattering of dogwoods that bloomed stunningly in April. Gentle hills rolled in the distance, where fifteen shipping containers rested in three tidy lines. Eventually, they would replace the trailers as homes.
Every time she saw them, she itched to start building. She’d already created the drawings for all three homes, but she needed a crew of construction workers with different specialties to finish off the containers once she’d done the welding. That all took money and time. Marty had been putting the profits from the bar back into the business to upgrade and sustain its popularity, and, between work and volunteering, Miranda didn’t have the time to dedicate to the project.