Chalk that one up to stupidity.
To this day Mallory couldn’t say exactly what had drawn her to him, what had made her think of kissing him as a stall tactic. Yes, he’d been delicious-looking with his tawny brawny self, but even as a sixteen-year-old, possessed of all the raging hormones of youth, she hadn’t made a habit of throwing herself at good-looking men. Especially when a good-looking man might have overpowered her and turned her over to the law.
Maybe she’d been fascinated because he could have come after her so easily. But he hadn’t. He’d watched her from that doorway with something so much more than surprise on his face. He could have overpowered her, but he’d kissed her instead.
What was it about Jake that made her lose her head?
Mallory needed to think, knew she’d never be able to sort out her thoughts as agitated as she was. Not to mention that she needed to stay sharp until she figured out what had gone on at the Innovative job. She wouldn’t be sharp if she didn’t get some sleep tonight.
Forcing herself up, she made her way out of the living room. Then she did the only thing she could think of to help clear her head—she sat down at the piano to play.
She chose a classical composition she always enjoyed, a romantic piece she hoped would lighten her mood, and one she’d already made her own so she didn’t need to read the sheet music. Depressing the pedal to soften the sound so as not to disturb Jake, she brought her fingers to the keys and began to play.
Music was Mallory’s passion. Not the variety of genres that could be heard blaring around the clock on Atlanta’s impressive bandwidth, but the black notes on yellowed staff paper that had been passed from generation to generation of gifted musicians.
At the piano she could lose herself in the one place in the world where success depended solely upon her performance and skill, a place where confusion didn’t exist, only order and precision. When she played, her life scaled down to a world she could understand, a world where right and wrong, ethics and values became very black-and-white concepts to define.
Giving herself over to the first movement, she lost herself in the one place in the world where she could forget her conflicted emotions.
And the man upstairs in her bed.
When she finally noticed him, before the last of the music had faded to silence, she had no sense of how long he’d been standing there in the shadows beyond the arched doorway, watching her, listening.
“You’re so talented.” His throaty whisper seemed intimate in the sudden silence, almost a visceral force in the darkness.
She wasn’t back yet from the place she went when she played and something deep inside her fluttered to awareness, something unfamiliar…pride maybe, or perhaps pleasure that he seemed so awed. She was struck by the thought that it would take a lot to impact this man. Perhaps she felt that way because she was so impacted by him.
He wore nothing but a robe belted around his waist, his hair and skin golden blurs in the shadow. He seemed too masculine in contrast to her neat home, a man out of place with the refined furnishings, yet curiously at one with them, as though his sheer maleness was exactly what had been missing.
This was a fanciful thought for a woman who wasn’t disposed to fanciful thoughts, and Mallory had the urge to say something to interject reality into the moment.
But Jake didn’t give her the chance. He crossed the room with purposeful strides and came to stand beside her, gazing down with an expression of such longing that he chased away her thoughts. She could only turn to him and stare up into his face, drawn by the sight of the hunger he didn’t try to hide.
Lifting a hand, he brushed her cheek with warm fingers, traced the line of her brow before threading them into her hair, forcing her head back to expose her throat to his view.
Her hair spilled out behind her, over the keys, over her shoulders, a weight she shouldn’t have noticed, but did, feeling it as another assault on her senses when she was already so sharply aware of this man.
His gaze never wavered as he outlined the curve of her throat, the hollow of her collarbone, a caress designed to explore, to stake a claim on her body. He dragged his thumb along her jaw, twined his fingers into the curve of her neck as though learning the feel of each curve, as if he was free to touch her by right, didn’t need permission to coax this jumble of sensations inside her.
“Jake, I—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t talk,” he said. “Don’t think, just feel.”
His command was a dusky whisper in the quiet, a sound that filtered through her in rich degrees, spurred her awareness of him impossibly higher. The tender scrape of callused fingertips along her skin. The way his gaze anchored her in place to emphasize his command.
A command she didn’t want to fight. A command she couldn’t fight without the safety of distance.
And there was no distance between them now, only need. Her need for this man. Her need to separate fantasy from reality, because some rational part of her brain knew she could never handle her runaway emotions until she did. But the night’s revelations, the worry, the uncertainty and her unpredicted response to him had all worn down her will.
He seemed much more fantasy than reality right now, standing so tall and powerful above her, holding her captive with potent bedroom eyes that only lent to the fantasy of the moment without their usual shield of clear plastic lenses.
But he was reality, too, a man to guide her through this unfamiliar place where she was trapped between the real and the imagined. Solid, as he’d been by her side tonight while she’d dealt with Lance, never pressuring her with questions, only offering his help.
Despite her sense of unfamiliarity with this feeling, Mallory knew she wasn’t imagining his longing. It was there in his expression. If nothing else about the moment was real, the connection between them was undeniable.
Then Jake bent down, lowered his face to hers, claimed a kiss with a simple possession that stole her breath. He tasted of hot male and hunger, invading her mouth with bold strokes of his tongue, inviting her to explore their attraction for each other, this unique chemistry they made together.
Mallory surrendered to the power of his mouth on hers, allowed her lips to melt beneath his, lured by the strength of his demand, and shamed by her need for it.
Once again the control had shifted to him and she was caught up in the wildness of their kiss and the way her body seemed to unfold in readiness for his touch. Her stomach tightened with anticipation. Moisture pooled between her thighs. Instinctively, she reached up for him, slipping her hands around his neck to drag him closer.
As she had earlier, she knew an overwhelming desire to explore this man. For ten years, she had obsessed, alternately been fascinated and angered and repelled by this man, and yes, had denied the connection they shared, a connection that had niggled deep into her subconscious.
His robe proved no obstacle. Her fingers slipped beneath the collar, traveled over shoulders stretching broad and wide and strong. His skin was warm to her touch, firmly muscled, solid.
The robe parted enough to let her trail her hands down that hard chest, her fingers sinking into the depressions of sleek muscle, abrading the silky hairs along the way. Earlier Jake had let her explore his body at her leisure, but now, his patience seemed limited. Slipping his hands around her waist, he lifted her up from the piano bench, forced her to her feet. He broke their kiss and to her surprise a sound of protest escaped her. She stood there with her mouth still wet and tingling, still wanting him.
From within the folds of thick cotton, she caught a glimpse of his erection bobbing wildly as he shoved the piano bench behind him. Then he sank to his knees, the robe pouring around him in a plush puddle. He bent his head low…. Seizing the waistband of her sweatpants, he dragged them down her legs in a thorough move that took her thong along with them.
Mallory assisted his efforts so he could pull her clothing away, and then he was forcing her ankles apart, widening her stance. She
stood before him, the shirt she wore making her feel all the more bared from the waist down, more exposed to his appreciative gaze and to the sultry night air.
His warm hands ran down one leg, then back up the other, lingering strokes that traced her shape, her every curve. She shivered at the teasing lightness of his touch, goose bumps spraying along her skin while her stomach swooped in on itself in eager reply.
Then Jake slipped his hands on her hips and pressed her back against the piano. Her bare backside landed directly on the keyboard, sent a shriek of impossible notes through the quiet, making her cringe. Or maybe that was only her response to his fingers prying her thighs apart, his tawny head lowering…
The first stroke of his hot silk tongue along her sex made her jump, and she gasped a sound that was drowned out by another crash on the keys.
He licked her again. Only this time he drove his tongue a little deeper, separating her sensitive folds just enough to make her breath come in a series of shuddering gasps that echoed over the fading remnants of sound.
Her thighs quivered. Her chest rose and fell in a vain attempt to catch a breath. And when he unveiled the tiny bud of nerve endings from its hiding place, she could only arch backward and close her eyes and decide she didn’t need to breathe after all.
What was breathing when Jake trapped her in a fantasy? The way she felt couldn’t be real. Every muscle in her body was melting, a crazy liquefying sensation that contrasted curiously with the tension building inside her.
And when he sucked that sensitive little bud into his mouth, a tight pull that made her entire body shudder, she let out a moan that sounded more like a whimper.
A whimper.
Before she could absorb the fact that he’d dragged such an undignified sound from her, he was curling his fingers into her wet heat, separating and stroking. His stubbled cheeks prickled her skin. His mouth drew on her with slow pulls until she couldn’t resist rocking against him, a delicious motion that depressed the keys beneath her, strident blasts of sound she barely noticed as her insides mushroomed on a wave of sensation….
Over the edge she went, an orgasm so intense that a moan slid from her lips, increasing in volume like a crescendo.
Jake sat back and gazed up at her with those melting dark eyes, his mouth gleaming from her body’s desire. She could only stare at him dazed, his golden features contrasting sharply with her pale thighs. The hem of her shirt had snagged on his hair, mussing the tawny waves and lending him a look of supreme satisfaction, a contentment that was so totally male.
And then he smiled. A smile that suggested kneeling before her, his fingers buried deep inside as her body clenched greedily around him was the only place in the world he wanted to be.
“Did you prove yourself?” she managed to ask.
“Depends on whether or not you can stand.”
Arrogant man. She sniffed haughtily, refusing to admit that if not for her piano and the hand he still had wedged between her legs, she’d have dissolved into a puddle at his feet.
His thumb found that sensitive knot that sent need curling straight to her core, and she arched against him, riding his hand, unable to stop moving. He thrust deep until her moan made a total lie of her composure.
“Well, if I haven’t made the cut yet…”
He let his statement trail off, but his golden brown eyes flashed. And then he was on his feet, rising in a move that was all compact motion and graceful male.
Flashes of tanned muscle peeped out from his robe, a strong calf, a hard thigh, rippled abs, and then he was crowding against her with his big body and his male heat.
This man definitely had something to prove, and she didn’t move when he slipped his hand away, refused to let him know how much she felt the air caress the dampness clinging to her thighs. She braced herself on her hands and stared at him defiantly.
“What is it you’re trying to prove, Jake?”
He unbelted his robe purposefully, left it to fall open and reveal the powerful lines of his body, and he stroked his erection, a slow pull that made him swell visibly. He stroked himself again and Mallory dragged her gaze from the sight to prove she wasn’t affected.
A lie.
“I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to make you forget everything except the way my hands feel on your body. I want you to accept the way you respond to me.”
His throaty declaration shouldn’t have sounded like a threat. But she took it as one. He wanted her to lose herself in him, and she didn’t think he could possibly know how close he was to making her do just that.
“I came.” A concession.
“You will again.” A promise.
“We’ll see.” A dare.
He inclined his head. “Yes, we will.”
Before she even registered his move, Jake had wedged himself between her thighs. His big hands gripped her knees and brought them up around his waist, opening her wide as he forced her ankles behind him and caught them tight with one hand.
She could only go with the motion, secured as she was against the fallboard of her piano, her hair tangling around the music desk. Mallory did gasp this time, not only from the suddenness of his move, but from the appearance of that erection between her thighs.
His features grew stark with his hunger as he ground his hips to draw that hot length against her heat. She watched transfixed as his mouth set into a firm line, his jaw clenched tight while he took deliberate aim.
She was wet from her orgasm, ready, and he thrust inside with a sleek motion. Bracing herself against the piano, she tried to appear unaffected but there was no way a woman even as accomplished at concealing her emotions as she could pretend that making love to him wasn’t out of the ordinary.
She was spread wide to receive him, their bodies joined at the hips. She couldn’t catch her breath, could only grab on to his shoulders and hang on, her whole body aching to press full length against him, her breasts heavy and tight and yearning for his attention. She would have stripped her shirt over her head but he chose that moment to move. A smooth purposeful motion that rocked her against the keys to another crash of impossible notes that drowned out the sound of their broken breathing.
He began to ride her, hard, each stroke bringing him out almost all the way, before he plunged back, a well-planned assault that trapped her between the piano and him. She could only hang on, lifted higher with each thrust, totally dependent on his pace and his pleasure to feed her own growing ache.
He released her ankles and slipped his fingers around her neck, urging her to tip her head back, and she did. She met his gaze, was completely awed by how beautiful he was in his passion, how open and honest. He didn’t hide his hunger, an expression on his face that revealed just how much he wanted her.
It was she who lifted her mouth to his, silently begged for a kiss. He lowered his face and his mouth came down on hers hard, possessive. He never slowed that incredible motion of his hips, and she mirrored each stroke with her tongue, the only way she could feed the intensity building inside her, lifting her higher than she’d ever known she could go.
Their hearts pounded together, breakneck. Her skin grew hot and sticky beneath her sweatshirt, her thighs encasing his hips were covered with a thin sheen of sweat.
Then his body began to vibrate, and she clung to him because she could do nothing else. She could only absorb each powerful thrust, marvel as he came with such force that he dragged her right along with him.
The last harsh notes from the piano lingered over their ragged breaths. He lowered his head until his brow rested against hers, his hands still locked around her neck as though he was too shell-shocked to move them.
The thought made panicked laughter rise inside, because this man had accomplished exactly what he’d set out to do. She’d forgotten everything but the feel of his hands on her. She’d abandoned herself to him in a way she’d never abandoned herself before. She, a woman who always controlled her actions and emotions because she couldn’t c
ontrol life, couldn’t control herself around Jake.
Her heart raced in her chest and she couldn’t catch her breath. Her body was weak with contentment. He’d leveled her with his demands and his orgasms.
And the way he held her told her he knew it.
Then without a word, he lifted her up into his arms and carried her toward the stairs. He didn’t ask. He just assumed control, proving his earlier claim that he did indeed like things his way. And that he had the patience to outlast her no matter how determined she might be.
He wanted her to come to bed, and now she would.
IN THE DARKNESS of late night, Jake wrapped his arms around Mallory, nestled her warm body into the contours of his. He’d peeled away the last of her clothes and her every naked curve pressed against him, her long legs twined with his, her smooth stomach curled around his hip, her hand lightly resting on his chest, her cheek in the crook of his shoulder.
She was a natural fit and slept easily in his arms, shaping and reshaping her body to his throughout the night. He hadn’t slept nearly as well, only dozing as he stared into the moon-soaked darkness, resting his chin on the top of her head and inhaling the scent of her hair.
His restlessness had nothing to do with exhaustion. His body was physically sated, more content than he’d ever been.
Which seemed to be the problem.
His mind played over every second since he’d pulled up in front of her brownstone at precisely ten fifty-seven yesterday morning.
Less than a day.
He wouldn’t have believed so much could change in so short a time. But everything had changed. His thoughts raced with the day’s events, with every word Mallory had spoken, every gesture she’d made, every challenge she’d issued.
This kind of psychological turmoil precluded sleep no matter how content and exhausted his body was, and he tried to make some sense of what was taking place between them.
And more importantly, what he was going to do next.
Their every interaction was a power struggle that was becoming increasingly important as Jake realized how much he didn’t want to lose.
Over the Edge Page 13