Hot Spot

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Hot Spot Page 17

by Debbi Rawlins


  He reached for them, but she held back the stack, removing several and keeping them hidden before turning the remainder over to him. If she thought he was going to forget about them, she was out of her mind. She’d really piqued his curiosity now. “Am I allowed to see those?”

  “Later.” She smiled tentatively. “I promise.”

  He nodded, sat back and started with the first one. He immediately recognized Central Park. Sitting on a bench, an older woman, either a nanny or a grandmother, was being fed a bite of hot dog by her young ward. The expressions on their faces were priceless, the affection between the woman and child nearly a tangible thing.

  “This is terrific,” he said, carefully setting the photo aside and going to the next one. Again, taken in Central Park, this one black-and-white, showed what appeared to be a homeless woman, frail and battered, feeding the birds part of her sandwich.

  The tender expression on the woman’s face stirred a fierce emotion in him that words could never have done. He looked at Madison. Her hands were clasped together, tightly enough to make her knuckles white, her eyes wary, almost frightened.

  “Madison.”

  “What?”

  “These are fantastic.”

  She smiled, halfheartedly, as if she thought he was voicing only what was expected.

  “Do you have any idea how good these are? Have you shown them to anyone else?”

  She shrugged sheepishly. “My friend Karrie.”

  “And was she totally blown away?”

  She laughed softly. “Of course. She’s been my best friend like forever.”

  “No, Madison.” He took hold of her chin to make her look at him. “Not because she’s your friend. These are fantastic. They should be in a gallery somewhere. In a magazine.”

  She snorted. “People only want to see celebrities.”

  “Not true.” He let her go and went to the next photo. “You’re wasting your talent.”

  She seemed to shrink away, and he let her have her space while he studied the next four, all equally as powerful as the first two. He wasn’t biased. He’d had enough friends and family hit him up for endorsements over the years to know whether he could be objective or not.

  No, she had a remarkable talent for capturing universal human emotion. That was crystal clear. Even the last one, humorous as it was, displayed her talent and quickness. A squirrel sat on the gas tank of a motorcycle, its paws strategically resting on the handle bars.

  Jack smiled.

  “That was a really lucky shot,” she said, having leaned closer again. “I couldn’t believe that little guy perched up there big as life.”

  “Didn’t you submit it anywhere? You could’ve easily made a few bucks off this from Parade or one of those mags.”

  “I sent some out a couple of times and got rejected. Like I said, people are more interested in celebs.” She took them back and stuffed them into the envelope.

  He got the feeling she wanted them out of sight. Forgotten. “You should be very proud of every one of those photographs.”

  She smiled, shrugged. “I’ve enjoyed them.”

  Frustrated, he checked his watch, wishing room service would hurry up and get here, then leave. She really didn’t understand her own talent. And he had a feeling nothing he could say to her would change that.

  Damn, maybe she really did need that silly cover for validation. The thought truly irked him. But as talented as she was, he didn’t doubt she would get the prized cover. And if that’s what she needed to boost her confidence, so be it. He was simply relieved that she was as good as he’d anticipated. Better even. It would make his proposition easier.

  “What about those other pictures?” he asked, indicating with a tilt of his head, the stack she’d secreted away.

  “More of my private stuff.”

  “I know that. I want to see them.”

  She made a face, clearly reluctant, but then produced them. “Remember, no one else will see these.”

  He frowned, but as he started through the small pile, he understood. These were the photographs she’d taken of him; the ones when he’d come out of the shower, wrapped only in a towel. She’d been careful not to advertise the fact he was undressed. The first two shots showed only his bare chest, as if he might have had on a pair of jeans or swim trunks. But that wasn’t the attention grabber, anyway. It was his expression. As he looked at her.

  There was no doubt as to what was on his mind. Sex might as well have been tattooed across his forehead. The feral desire in his eyes made him look almost primitive. He tried to remain expressionless, but panic simmered in his chest. Quickly he flipped through the others. They weren’t quite as bad, but he barely recognized himself.

  “I’d like to keep them,” she said quietly, “with the promise they’re for my eyes only. But if you confiscate them, I’ll understand.”

  “Confiscate?” He snorted. “Trying to make me feel guilty if I do take them?”

  She stiffened. “That’s not at all what I meant.”

  “That was a joke. Here. They’re yours.” He was damn lucky his hands didn’t shake as he handed them over. Not because he was angry, just startled. Dumbfounded. Kind of annoyed that he’d been so transparent.

  He’d give just about anything to have been inside her head when she first saw the photos, saw the animal lust in his eyes.

  An awkward moment passed, and then he said, “You aren’t submitting those?” It was a question, not a demand.

  She gave him a cheeky smile. “Would you want me to?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t worry. I already have my five choices tucked away.”

  “In the envelope, right?” Now, he was interested in seeing them.

  “Yep.”

  He smiled and leaned toward her.

  “Later,” she said, taking a last glance at his photograph and sliding her arms around his neck.

  16

  AS MUCH AS SHE’D DREADED showing him his photographs, she couldn’t in good conscience not give him the chance to keep them or destroy them or do whatever he pleased. It would have broken her heart if he hadn’t let her keep them, and not just because he would’ve deprived her of many hours spent drooling. That he trusted her meant everything in the world to her.

  She smiled with the deepest contentment she’d known in a long time as she watched him answer room service’s knock. It was Tyler again, one hand splayed beneath a tray carrying a couple of silver-domed plates. At Jack’s request, he set them beside the cookie bouquet, and then nodded at her before quickly disappearing.

  Ignoring the food, Jack returned to join her on the couch.

  She smiled lazily at him. “I thought you needed to eat.”

  “It wasn’t the scotch getting to me.” He slid one of her buttons free and then another until the front of her bra was exposed. “It’s you.”

  “You’re gonna make me blush,” she teased.

  “I see that. It’s starting right here.” He insinuated his finger between her breasts, and in the next instant her bra clasp was undone.

  He touched her in the same reverent way he’d handled her pictures. The private, noncommercial ones she’d taken only for her pleasure. Except, he seemed to find as much pleasure in looking at them as she did. All the nervous nail biting had been for nothing.

  She lay back against the cushions while he finished unbuttoning her blouse, and then she watched as he got rid of his shirt.

  He nudged her with a light poke of his elbow. “Am I going to have to do all the work?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  He laughed. “Why did I bother asking?”

  “No clue.”

  Prompted by him easing aside her bra cups and flicking his tongue over one of her nipples, she gave in and shoved the blouse sleeves off, letting the bra go with it.

  He switched to the other nipple and then murmured. “I think we should go to the bedroom.”

  “Well, we did trash one of their couches
already.”

  “I know. I got a bill for it.”

  She sat up straight, her eyes wide. “Oh, my God. Are you kidding?”

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  Gasping, she smacked him on the arm, but he caught her wrist with one hand and attacked the snap of her jeans with the other. He got her zipper down in a flash. But instead of doing the expected, he slid his hand between her thighs, against the denim, causing a pleasant friction that made her squirm.

  “Bedroom,” she whispered.

  He got up first and helped her up, kissing her as she got to her feet. Not gentle kisses. The really deep kind that would land them back on the couch if she didn’t force him to move. Which he did grudgingly, backward, as if he couldn’t bear to break contact with her mouth.

  When they both nearly stumbled over the end table, he sobered and led her the rest of the way. The bedroom drapes were drawn, thank goodness, because he already had his slacks halfway down and immediately stepped out of them. This time his boxers were black silk.

  She’d had her jeans partway down, too, but they were tight and required more effort. Assistance he gladly rendered, going to one knee and tugging the denim over her thighs, kissing skin as he exposed it all the way down to her knees.

  He didn’t raise himself as she stepped out of the jeans, didn’t try to pull off her panties, but planted a kiss against the silk as if it weren’t there at all. That’s how she felt, anyway. There might as well not have been a barrier. His heat was so intense it was as if he’d slipped his tongue between her folds.

  With a startled cry, she realized he’d slid his finger under the elastic and had found the spot that drove her wild. She clutched his shoulders and tried to force him to his feet, but he insistently massaged, stroked, brought her close to the brink.

  “Jack, no. Wait.”

  “Why?”

  She moaned, trying to wiggle away from him, but his other hand held her derriere too firmly, and any movement merely created more unbearable friction.

  With no choice in the matter, all she could do was give in to the pleasure. Sighing, she moved her legs a little farther apart, and that’s when he slipped her panties down.

  Naked and quivering, she felt his lips resume driving her insane, joined now with fingers from his other hand, slipping inside her.

  He pumped, hard, as he flicked his wicked tongue until every muscle in her body was tightened like a bowstring. Finally, she cracked, coming so hard, he had to grab her around the hips before she fell.

  Jack eased her onto the bed. She thought he was going to climb next to her, give her a chance to catch her breath, but instead he settled between her legs. Looking at her with glazed eyes, he put his hands beneath her legs and lifted them up until they rested on his shoulders.

  When he scooted up, he grabbed one of the pillows from the head of the bed, pushed it under her hips.

  “Oh,” she said, still having aftershocks from her orgasm. He clearly intended to kill her with sex, which seemed like a fine idea.

  He leaned over her until he hovered, his warm breath brushing her face, his eyes focused and fixed, and…What she saw there—

  With no warning at all, he thrust into her, making her whole body spasm with the most intense pleasure she’d ever felt. He’d relit her climax, and she had to grab fistfuls of the comforter just to keep on the bed.

  This was no slow tease, this was a full-out, rock-your-world, take-no-prisoners assault on her senses, on her body, on her sanity.

  It was everything hot she’d ever dreamed of, and while she’d known Jack had a wildness to him, she’d never imagined this. Looking at him above her, as he took her for his own, claimed her with his cock and his eyes, it was a revelation. No one had ever looked at her like that, as if he’d wanted to brand her forever. Nothing had ever made her feel like this. The connection between them was much more than physical, and for the life of her, she didn’t know what to do except submit.

  She gasped for breath as he bent her nearly double, as he shook above her, as a drop of sweat from his brow dripped onto her cheek.

  There was simply no way to close her eyes, despite the tremors coursing through her. She was held utterly by his ferocious gaze.

  How could she reconcile the man on the television, always composed, always a gentleman, with this wild creature? He had no business letting himself be so tamed. He needed to be let free, to let this part of himself out of the small box, and not just with her. Not just with sex.

  He was too big for the life he’d found himself in, and if there was anything she could give him before this was over, it was going to be to help him see that.

  If she didn’t die first.

  Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, or even scream, his lips took hers, and devoured her, just as he devoured her sex.

  He was groaning, low and raw and his power was so amazing, she could have come just from looking at him. But that wasn’t his plan, either. He was going to make her come apart at the seams.

  His thrusts became more erratic and, seconds later, he came. He hung there, over her, his arms stiff and trembling on either side of her, his breath heavy and his chest rising and falling as if he’d never be calm again.

  Her legs were still over his shoulders; her hands still gripped the comforter. And in that moment she knew she wasn’t going to get over this man. Ever.

  SHE OPENED HER EYES to find Jack staring at her. His head propped up with one hand, he smiled, then brushed a lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

  “You slept,” he said softly.

  “How long?”

  “Just about half an hour.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  He shook his head. “I have something to tell you.”

  A wave of panic hit her. He looked so damn serious. “If you don’t want to see me anymore, it’s okay.” The words were barely out of her mouth and she wanted to kick herself. Not just because he looked so displeased. But because it sounded so pathetic, insecure.

  He sighed. “That’s the furthest thing from my mind.” He paused, sighed again. “I wanted you to be the first to know that I probably won’t be renewing my contract with the network.”

  She got up on one arm, hand bracing her head, to face him eye to eye. “Really? What are you going to do?”

  “It’s not for certain yet, but it’s doubtful they’ll meet my demands, and I’m prepared to walk.” He looked down at the circles he was tracing on her naked hip.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “Yes. As sure as I’ve ever been.”

  “Look at me.”

  He met her gaze and gave her an indulgent smile.

  “You’re really sure.”

  “Yes,” he said, unblinking.

  “It’s about field time, isn’t it?” Her heart had already started to sink. Though his schedule was hectic here, as long as he was in New York she’d be able to see him.

  He slowly nodded.

  “Which means that you’ll be out trotting around the globe,” she said as cheerfully as she could muster. “That’s wonderful, Jack. It’s what you’re supposed to do. You shouldn’t be trapped into something so tame. You’ve got so much more to offer.”

  He abandoned her hip and covered her hand, squeezing gently, looking at her with such hopeful eyes. “I want you to come with me.”

  “What?” Her laugh came out a sad croak.

  “I do the reporting. You take the pictures.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She could only stare at him in stunned disbelief. “You don’t even have another job yet.” Suspicion stopped her cold. “Do you?”

  “No, but it won’t be hard to get one.”

  “For you, yes.”

  “We’ll be a package deal.” He sat up, excitement lighting his face. “Come on, Madison. We’d be so good together. I know it in my gut.”

  Her gaze traveled down his chest to his flat belly. The sheet obstructed further view but she didn�
�t have to see to know what was there. “No fair asking me like this,” she murmured, trying to stall for time. She couldn’t process any of this.

  He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her. She responded. How could she not? But her mind was a tornado of thoughts, swirling at reckless speed. They barely knew each other. She was a celebrity photographer and she took kids’ portraits. Of course he didn’t know that part. Thank God.

  And just because he’d altered her very chromosomes when he’d made love to her, it still didn’t mean that they were meant to be together.

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe your network would let you go that easily—not to work for the competition.”

  “I can’t work as an anchor. Not for five years, according to my contract. So what? That’s not what I want to do. You showed me that.”

  Her head started to hurt. Was this a dream? “How?”

  “Your passion. Your drive. I used to be like you. Not anymore. I don’t love my work. It’s only a job now.” He smiled wryly. “Yeah, it pays well, but it also comes at a high price.”

  She suddenly felt so weak she didn’t think she could hold her head up any longer. She lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

  “I realize this came out of nowhere. I just want you to think about it. Okay?”

  She barely nodded. It seemed to require too much effort.

  “You’re too good to be chasing celebrities, Madison. You could be doing so much more.” He touched her arm, stroked up and down. “You might be part of a package deal at the beginning, but you’ll be earning your own way. Hell, after you get the cover—”

  She laughed humorlessly. “I’m not going to get the cover.”

  He stopped stroking her arm. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “The competition is stiff. I mean, I took some good shots, but…I don’t have my hopes up.”

  He studied her a long time. Too long. She regretted the admission.

  “Have you shown them to anyone?”

  “Not yet.” She smiled. “I’ll probably show them to Talia, an editor at Today’s Man, and get her opinion. I still have time to change my mind and submit different shots than I’ve chosen.”

 

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