by Jess Dee
She attempted to hold on to that mortification, reminded herself that the man was in shock, but it proved impossible. How could she focus on the negative when his very taste overwhelmed her and his scent did funny things to her belly?
He smelled like a man should smell. Woodsy, like the great outdoors, but also… She inhaled, pulling in his aroma. Sexy. She couldn’t put into words what made her want to tear his shirt from his body and allow her hands to roam free over his huge chest, she just knew he smelled intoxicating.
Although that inebriated sensation could be a result of his kiss. Of the way his mouth plundered hers, taking whatever he could and giving back a hundred-fold.
There was nothing calm or gentle about the kiss. He sought to pillage, own and devour. She could do nothing but allow him free access. And maybe kiss him back. A little.
Okay, a lot. Maybe she kissed him back as ravenously as he kissed her.
Damn it. She kissed the man who’d leased her shop to someone else. The very man she should be mad as hell with. Where were her priorities? She needed to get up and walk away. At least until Jack had time to come to terms with his grandfather’s illness and work out a solution to the lease issue.
But she couldn’t motivate her body to leave. Couldn’t force herself up and off him. Couldn’t even stop her hands as they crept up his sides, molding to the shape of his muscles, imbibing his warmth.
Had she thought him cold a few short minutes ago? Now he burned beneath her hands. Heat radiated from his body, singeing her palms. That was a good thing, right? It must mean he was getting over his shock.
Claire yanked at his shirt, pulling the tails from his pants, letting her hands creep beneath the cotton.
Holy shit. Hot male flesh pulled taut over rippling muscle.
He felt so damn good, a moan of appreciation escaped her throat. Jack kissed her harder, more thoroughly, and Claire couldn’t get enough of the wet heat of his mouth.
The arm around her back tightened, pulling her closer. He shifted, straightening out his legs so Claire lay on top of him. Her hips pressed to his, her breasts squashed against that substantial chest.
A low groan of appreciation vibrated through his lips as he ground against her, revealing an impressive erection.
Claire’s head spun.
The man was hard. Aroused.
Wow.
No man had ever acted with such erotic abandon around her. No man had ever kissed her as though his very life depended on it. As though the taste of her lips was enough to send his temperature soaring, or the feel of her body against his made him groan in ecstatic agony.
Claire was under no false illusion. She would never be one of those gorgeous, model-type women who had men falling at her feet. She was the big, clumsy, overweight girl next door who…well, who fell at men’s feet apparently. While trying to help them up.
Perhaps the shock had muddled his brain? Perhaps his grief had left him shaken and vulnerable, and his instinct was to reach out to whomever was close at the time?
Her.
That would explain the way he held her so tight, the way his mouth seemed reluctant to release hers. It would also explain the feverish groan that rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her breasts and making her pussy clench with excitement.
It didn’t explain the erection. Didn’t explain why he rocked his hips, rubbing his cock over a spot so sweet that had Claire not been wearing pants, she’d have been thrown into a spiraling orgasm.
It didn’t seem to matter whether or not she was dressed. Didn’t matter that she and he were fully clothed. The pressure against her clit, so unexpected, so intense, was enough to build sensation that could send her over the edge in no time.
Her wild rocking in return helped matters not at all. Without being conscious of her body’s actions, she found herself grinding down on his erection, her knees on either side of his legs, meeting every seductive thrust of his hips with a twist of her own.
She no longer focused on her inhibitions. Couldn’t even think about them. As the pressure and sensation built, and his tongue stroked over hers, she dug her fingers into his sides, seeking purchase on his hard flesh.
Claire was going to come. Going to orgasm, atop Mr. Wilson in the very shop he’d leased to someone else.
With a last reserve of energy, Claire ripped her head away, breaking the kiss that held her captive in his arms. She tried to throw herself off him, twisting over to the side, but he held her tight, even as he stared at her with passion-fogged eyes.
“Easy, Miss Jones. You lurch over to that side, and you’re likely to crash into a cup of tea.”
His calm, practical words were at such odds with his dark, sexy gaze, Claire stilled mid-twist. And then had to swallow a moan, as the position pressed her clit firmly against his erection, almost making her see stars.
“P-please. Let me go.” She’d dismount on the other side.
The breathless quality to her voice ashamed her. Although which part of her behavior caused the most shame she was unsure. Was it the fact that the last thing she wanted to do was climb off him? She was close, so damn close to coming, that even shuddering might send her over the edge.
Or was it the fact that she’d fallen on him, like a giant hippopotamus, with no rhythm or grace or even a slight attempt to right herself?
Or was it the fact that she’d so blatantly and wantonly fallen into his kiss, she’d let go of her inhibitions without even remembering she had any?
Or maybe, just maybe, she’d horrified herself, plunging head first into a kiss and a grope with a man overwhelmed by stress and worry. Perhaps she was horrified at herself for taking advantage of a man so obviously shaken by a family member’s ill health.
A combination of all of the above. Without a doubt. And that didn’t even begin to focus on her reasons for being here in the first place. The professional woman seeking to lease a shop from the property manager.
Still, a part of her—a very big part—wanted to dip back down and kiss him all over again.
His arms loosened around her, giving her the chance to climb off him, like she wanted. So why did she hesitate?
As though he sensed she might be in two minds, he rocked his hips one more time. Claire leaped off him with a gasp she couldn’t suppress. She landed on her knees beside him, with all her usual lack of grace and finesse, a heaving mass of crazy-assed female hormones.
Was there any way she could humiliate herself more with this man?
Pushing up to a standing position, and knowing her face was stained red—probably permanently—she did her best to apologize, patting down her shirt at the same time.
“I-I am so sorry. Falling on you like that. I have no idea what happened, other than I’m clumsier than a baby elephant, and probably shouldn’t have offered you my hand in the first place. D-did I hurt you?”
He propped his lower arms on the floor and rested his weight on them, looking up at her, bemused. “Hurt me?”
Shit, this was excruciating. “Uh, yeah. You know, when I landed on you.” Yes, he was big. Huge. Still, she was no lightweight. She could have caused him serious harm.
“Do I look hurt?”
She scanned his body. He looked positively scrumptious, although his shirt was a crumpled mess and his pants did nothing to hide the glorious erection he’d pressed against her so enticingly. Her gaze kind of got stuck on it and wouldn’t move on.
“I pulled you over, Miss Jones. You didn’t fall on me.”
Flushing even more than before, she darted her gaze back to his. He said that to make her feel better.
“And for the record? You’re welcome to land on me any time.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shifted to a sitting position, then groaned and immediately shifted again. “But maybe next time, you won’t be in such a hurry to get up?”
Speechless, embarrassed and more than a little aroused, Claire fumbled for an appropriate response and found none. She knew she had to get out of there. Get some space,
some air and pull herself together. No way could she conduct herself in any way befitting a professional now. If she wasn’t careful, she’d throw caution to the wind and launch herself at the man now seated on the floor.
She might break his neck in the process, but at least she’d be back in his arms—an idea she found she craved a great deal. Okay, so she practically drooled at the thought of being held by him again. Touched by him. Kissed. “I er, have to go,” she muttered.
No, she didn’t. She’d set the morning aside to complete this meeting. Neither Maddie nor Julia were expecting her back at Li’l Books and Bits any time soon. But she couldn’t stand here a second longer. Not if she wanted to preserve her last ounce of pride.
“Go?” he asked.
“Back to my shop. Do some work. And, er, you should probably go too. Go visit your grandfather. I suspect you need to see him, for your sake as well as his.”
“What about your lease?”
She nodded. Good question What about it? “As I said, I’ll come by your offices tomorrow morning. We can sort it all out then. It’ll give you a chance to cancel the agreement with the man who signed it.”
Much easier to talk about the lease than the outrageous kiss they’d shared. Funny how she could obsess about it internally, reliving every second of it while looking at the G.G., yet not allow a single word to cross her lips that may give him the impression she’d given it another thought. She kind of reckoned she’d be giving it endless thought all the way back to the shop and well into lunch. And dinner. And breakfast the next morning.
He shook his head with a small, mystified smile. “You’re going to ignore that kiss? Pretend it didn’t happen?”
She stared at him, speechless.
“You’re going to pretend I’m not sitting here, on my ass, with a massive hard-on?”
She bit her lip, not wanting to answer at all. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to pretend the last five minutes didn’t take place. You’re in shock about your grandfather, I’m furious about the lease, and should our lawyers need to get involved in the situation, a kiss and an uh, erection, are not going to hold either of us in good stead.”
“Ah, so we keep it professional.” He narrowed his eyes. “Ignore the fact that we both almost climaxed, fully clothed on the floor here. Ignore the chemistry that’s telling me to haul you into my arms once again—despite the fact you’re acting as though it doesn’t exist?”
She wiped her hands on her pants, aware her palms were damp from nerves. Or from arousal. “We should have kept it professional all along. We didn’t. This is the only way I know to rectify the situation. Pretend it didn’t take place.”
One half of his mouth creased into a frown. The half that showed off his dimple, and again Claire felt the need to explore it—with her tongue. “I guess I should be grateful you’re not denying the chemistry.”
How could she possibly deny it? Whatever hummed between them wasn’t just chemical, it was highly explosive. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Wilson. At your grandfather’s offices.”
He contemplated her in silence for a long moment before giving a humorless laugh. “You know where the offices are?”
“Yes. Your grandfather gave me the address.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Eleven o’clock.”
“You should know something, Miss Jones.”
She raised her brow in question.
“This isn’t over between us. You might deny what happened. I can’t.”
Chapter Three
Overwhelming relief was Jack’s first experience as he walked into his grandfather’s hospital room.
The man’s pallor had improved. His cheeks were rosy, and he sat up in bed, resting against three or four pillows. Even the drip attached to Big Jack’s left arm couldn’t detract from his grandson’s relief. He was no doctor, but the change was obvious. The man was better.
A thousand kilograms lifted from Jack’s shoulders. Seeing his pop like this did more for him than a cup—or even a pot—of tea ever could.
He couldn’t explain how it all happened, or why, but Claire had eased his worries. Something about her presence had taken away the horror of the previous night, of realizing his grandfather might die. Her calm had soothed his shock.
And her kiss had blown his mind, but that was another story altogether.
The second she’d left the shop, however, he’d jumped into his car and headed straight to the hospital, needing to see Big Jack.
Now, as he stood admiring his grandfather’s color, he couldn’t help but think that it might not be too long before they took the boat out again.
Pop welcomed him with a smile, and Jack hugged him hello, kissing him on the cheek, aware of the papery texture of his skin. While the old man might be better, he was still old, and more fragile than Jack had realized. Jack had kind of assumed he’d live forever. Stupid really, but when a boy idolized someone the way Jack had always idolized Big Jack, thoughts of death and mortality never came up.
“Your father just left. You missed him by a couple of minutes.”
“That’s okay. I didn’t come to see him. I came for you. How are you feeling?”
Big Jack looked down at his chest as though assessing it. “I don’t think I’ll be running any marathons in the near future, but otherwise okay.” His voice was soft and wispy.
“I brought you some magazines to read.” He laid the pile on the hospital cabinet beside the bed.
His pop looked disappointed. “No food?”
“I have no idea what you’re allowed, or if you’re even allowed to eat, so no. No food.”
Big Jack huffed. “I could use a Big Mac and chips.”
Jack snorted. “Pop, you’ve had a heart attack from clogged arteries. Your burger days are over.”
“Might as well kill me now if I can’t have another Big Mac,” the old man grumbled. “I’m holding out for chips as well.”
“Tell you what. Get through the surgery okay, and I’ll treat you to a Big Mac meal and a McFlurry afterwards.” Anyone who craved Macca’s had to be feeling better.
“You have a deal, my boy. Now tell me what’s happening at my office.”
Jack frowned.
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse.”
“Jacky, come on, you’re a teacher. You guide teenagers every day of your life. How hard can it be to run a one-man property management business? Compared to school, it’s a party.”
“I get kids, Pop. I understand them. I like them.” All of them—even the princesses, the troublemakers, the geeky nerds and the arrogant jocks.
He didn’t like them, he loved them. Loved his work. Came home at the end of every day with a sense of accomplishment, a knowledge that he’d found his life’s purpose.
Unfortunately, it was the getting home that always knocked the wind out of his sails. Because how could one enjoy one’s life’s purpose when one’s salary didn’t even allow one to own a home? Or a new car, maybe with leather upholstery?
God help him if he ever settled down and started a family. The expense would be financially crippling.
Working with his pop, however, and earning decent money could open up his life to all possibilities. And what better opportunity to join his grandfather than right now? But even with this opportunity, he hesitated, hating the thought of leaving a job that made him happy.
“Your business? I swear, I can’t fathom it. I’ll take History and English lessons over business any day. Anthony is way better suited to run your business while you’re away.”
“Anthony is in Perth. He can’t run my business.”
Jack wished his brother weren’t away. Anthony would’ve understood how worried Jack had been about Big Jack, and although they’d spoken last night, more than once, a phone wasn’t an adequate means of communication at a time like this. Anthony would also have been able to run the business effectively. He’d studied Business Management.
“I stuffed up, Pop.”
“What did you do?
“I rented out the property on New South Head Road.”
“How’s that a mistake? I asked you to rent it out. Got a good feel about those Jones girls. Thought they’d be good tenants. Who signed the lease? Claire or Maddie?”
Jack cringed. “Neither.”
“Neither?”
“Greg Parker did.”
Big Jack stared at him. “Parker?”
Jack nodded.
“Now why on earth would Parker sign on that shop? I never showed it to him.”
“Yeah, um, I did. This morning.”
“Why?” The old man looked baffled.
“Because you told me to rent out the shop today. I think your words were, ‘Get the lease signed, my boy. That property must be rented out tomorrow.’”
“Yes. So?”
“So you never mentioned who should sign the lease. I had no idea who you had in mind. When I searched your desk, the only name I found was Parker’s. His number was there, alongside a handwritten note to ‘show him the shop ASAP, with a view to leasing’.”
“Yes. That was for a property in Surry Hills, not Rose Bay.”
“I had no idea.”
“Did you look in my diary?”
“I couldn’t find your diary.”
“On my computer. Or my phone.”
Damn it. He hadn’t thought to look there. Hadn’t imagined his pop was that technologically savvy.
“Do me a favor?”
Jack nodded. “Anything.”
“Next time you visit, bring my iPad along. I’ll go through everything with you.”
Jack promised, suitably chastised. “So what do I do about the shop now? What do I say to Miss Jones?”
“Miss Jones?”
“Claire.” Saying her name sent a sharp longing through his gut for another taste of her sweet mouth. No, things were definitely not over between them. Not by a long shot. “She came past the shop while I was there with Parker.”
“To sign the lease.”
“Apparently.”
“Ah, Little Jacky, you messed that one up.”
“Yeah, I know. But thanks for reinforcing it. How do I fix it?”