Modern Heart: City Love 3

by Belinda Williams

  I put my wine down, comprehension dawning on me. “His ex-wife smothered him, didn’t she?”

  Wendy gave me a long look. “Among other things.”

  Touché.

  “You didn’t like her?” I asked. I really shouldn’t have, but my curiosity got the better of me.

  “Oh, I loved her. Elise is a gorgeous girl. She just wasn’t the right girl for John.”

  “I’m not right for John either,” I told her firmly.

  “You’re more right than you realize.”

  “And so what if I’m right? What then?” At some point I was going to wake up from this bizarre conversation and breathe a sigh of relief that it was all a dream.

  “That’s up to you and John. I don’t think he’s aiming for another fancy white wedding, if that makes you feel any better. Been there, done that. It’s more important to him to live life.”

  “What if I want the white wedding?”

  Wendy grinned. “I’ve been wrong before, but I don’t see it.”

  “Nor do I,” I agreed.

  “See what?”

  We both turned to find John standing in the doorway.

  With an air of complete calm, Wendy picked up my now empty glass and took it to the sink. “We don’t see how your father can possibly do anything to improve on this house any further.”

  She was good. Inappropriate conversation aside, this woman had my respect.

  John grinned and my stomach twisted. Perhaps Wendy was right. All this unresolved lust was an issue.

  “You have no vision then,” John said, and it took me a moment to realize he was talking about the house. “The ideas he’s got to extend the deck are just the tip of the iceberg. It’s not so much about the deck, it’s about the infinity pool—”

  “ Infinity pool?” Wendy rolled her eyes.

  “Oh come on, Mum. You’ll love it,” John said.

  “Yes, I suppose I will.” She shot me a look. “When it’s finished.”

  I smiled at her, then a cheeky thought occurred to me. “Just think about how much fun it will be.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Fun can be very underrated, can’t it?”

  *

  “Your mother thinks we should sleep with each other.”

  John jerked the steering wheel as we rounded a corner, and we jolted in our seats. He caught himself and the Jeep resumed ambling along at a smooth, steady speed.

  John cleared his throat. “She did not say that.”

  “She said that.”

  “Christ.” He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Then I really should apologize. It’s not that she’s nosy. She’s just—”

  “Perceptive,” I finished for him. “That must have sucked growing up.”

  “And then some.”

  We rode along in silence while I contemplated how I would word what I was about to say next. Then I figured to hell with it. He knew I didn’t do tact already. “We also discussed your divorce.”

  This time his reaction was far more reserved, which showed me he’d had plenty of practice covering his true feelings. The way his large palms were gripping the steering wheel gave him away though. “She shouldn’t have brought that up.”

  “She didn’t,” I said quickly. “Flick accidentally let it slip.”

  His grip loosened on the wheel. He sighed. “Thanks, little sister.”

  “I didn’t figure you for someone who keeps secrets.”

  He glanced over at me, then back at the road. “It’s not a secret. I just prefer not to talk about it.”

  “To anyone.”

  “I would have told you.”

  “That’s not what this is about,” I said. And it wasn’t. Yes, I had cried on his shoulder. Yes, he knew far more than anyone else about my childhood, but this was about him, not whether he’d chosen to share it with me, I realized. Maddy would be proud of my emotional maturity when I told her. “Why don’t you like to talk about it?”

  He drove in silence for while. I didn’t push him, although it was weird seeing him like this. Usually he was so open and positive. At the mention of his divorce it was like a heavy weight had settled on him.

  “I’m trying to put it behind me,” he said eventually.

  “I understand.” And I did. I’d been working my entire adult life to put my childhood behind me. “Can I ask a question though?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  “Not about the divorce,” I clarified. “About us.”

  John frowned. “Us?”

  “Yes. Are you interested in me because I’m not relationship material?”

  His frown deepened. “That’s a funny thing to say.”

  “It’s not. Not really. You were married, John. I’m the epitome of anti-marriage. I’m wondering if that’s maybe part of the appeal.”

  The lines between John’s eyebrows were so defined it looked like they hurt. “You’re saying you think you’re my rebound girl?”

  “Yes,” I said easily. “That’s it. Exactly. You wouldn’t go for me otherwise.”

  Finally it all made complete sense. His mother had seen it too. It was something of a relief. Now all I had to convince him to do was sleep with me and drop the pretense of a relationship. “Once we get each other out of our systems we’ll feel better for it,” I told him.

  I was thrown sideways in my seat again as he jerked the car to the side of the road. He yanked on the handbrake and we came to an abrupt stop. John turned to me and I sucked in my breath. His dark brown eyes were alight with frustration.

  “Scarlett Wong,” he said, his voice low, “if I sleep with you, I can assure you, there will be no getting you out of my system. You’re already in my system. You’re like a drug I can’t get enough of.”

  I suddenly felt very aware of my body. I could feel the pulse beating in my neck. I was conscious of the rise and fall of my chest as I breathed in and out. I laughed. “You make it sound like you’re addicted.”

  “Oh, I’m addicted, alright.” He reached over and cupped my cheek with his palm.

  I forced my breathing to remain steady, doing my best to ignore the way my skin burned beneath his touch. “Then I’d say you have a problem …”

  He leaned in until our noses were almost touching. His proximity felt both stifling and electrifying.

  “This is not a problem, Scarlett. And you’re not my rebound girl.”

  His eyes studied my face until I felt stripped bare. Correction. I wanted him to strip me bare.

  “You challenge me.” His voice was a soft, deep rumble.

  “Not always a good thing …”

  He ran his tongue along his top lip and I watched on in something resembling pain. “It’s a very good thing. I’m just hoping you’ll catch on.”

  “Stay with me tonight,” I blurted. Oh God, where had that come from? I didn’t care though, I realized. I only cared about his response.

  John sat back slowly in his seat. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You know what you’re asking, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Your place?” he asked.

  I nodded again.

  “I’ll still be there in the morning.”

  “I know that.”

  A flash of triumph registered on his face but it was gone quickly. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 24

  I didn’t bother to turn on the lights when we opened the front door to my apartment. The constant glow from the city threw a silver sheen across the uneven floorboards. I tossed my keys on the hall table with a loud clatter and turned to John. He closed the front door behind him and the quiet click it made sounded very final.

  We stared at each other. The moonlight reflecting in his eyes revealed a mischievous twinkle.

  I put my hands on my hips and lifted my chin in his direction. “Where do you want me?”

  John raised an eyebrow. “Romantic.”

  I half-pouted and frowned
at him. This was weird. He was in my apartment. My personal space. I wasn’t used to this. “You can’t possibly have expected romance.”

  He shook his head. The corner of his lip curled in amusement. “Tell me something. Truthfully. Am I the first guy you’ve invited home to this apartment?”

  The way he was looking at me made my frown disappear. He actually seemed proud of himself. “Yes, John. You’re the first.”

  He grinned from ear to ear. Before I had the chance to shake my head at him, he reached over and pulled me toward him so we were almost touching. “Tonight, your apartment is going to lose its virginity.”

  I smiled against my better judgment. “You’re an idiot.”

  “But I’m here, aren’t I?”

  He gripped my hips tightly. All the humor disappeared from his eyes. They were dark with desire. Dangerous.

  My heart pumped in my chest. I swallowed. Usually I’d make the first move, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to explore this unexpected power he had over me.

  He tugged me to him, not releasing his grip on me. Pressed together from the stomach down, I could feel him pushing against me, his obvious arousal straining against his jeans. He reached down and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was tender and sweet, just the merest brush of his lips. It was completely at odds with what the rest of his body was communicating. Or the lower half anyway.

  “Scarlett?” He eased back to look at me.

  “Yes?”

  “That’s an apology.”

  “An apology?”

  “Yes.”

  “What for?”

  “I know you like to be in control, but I got to tell you, that’s not going to happen tonight.”

  I licked my lips. I didn’t say anything. His eyes followed the trail of my tongue.

  “You’re going to put up a fight, aren’t you?” he asked.

  I raised my eyebrows in a challenge. “Try me.”

  I cried out as my world was thrown upside down. John had scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. I did have a very good view of his butt in those tight fitting jeans though. My furniture bobbed past me as he strode toward the loft steps. Lounge, coffee table, kitchen. Somehow he managed to maneuver the two of us up the spiral staircase. Upstairs, he threw me onto the bed so I landed with a soft thud. I stared up at him. He towered over the bed and I felt very small all of a sudden.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered.

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Instead of climbing onto the bed he pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. For a moment I felt hard done by. Wasn’t that my job? I got over it quickly. The hard planes and ridges of his chest shone in the moonlight. I sucked in a breath. God, he was beautiful.

  He kicked his shoes off, then started unbuckling his belt. I watched on in what could only be described as awe. He unzipped his jeans and let them drop to the floor. He was wearing tight fitting boxer shorts that highlighted his muscular thighs. His hands went to his waist.

  “Let me.” My voice sounded husky.

  He dropped his hands and walked around the side of the bed. I pushed myself up to a sitting position. I reached over and tugged the shorts down.

  I drew in a shaky breath. Completely naked he was better than I’d allowed myself to imagine. I covered the length of him with my hand, stroking the tip with my thumb.

  His head rolled back and he groaned, long and low.

  “If my apartment loses its virginity tonight, then I get to paint you,” I told him.

  “I’m not really in a position to argue, am I?” His chest rose and fell with the effort of his breathing. “Although I’ve got to say that if that’s your response when I drop my pants, I’m flattered.”

  I smiled to myself. That particular aspect of him was noteworthy, but it wasn’t just that. It was all of him. Whoever said a male couldn’t be masculine and beautiful at the same time had never seen John Hart.

  “Uh, Scarlett?”

  “Mm?”

  “Unless you want this to be over far too quickly, let go and lie down.”

  I smirked and let go. “You young men—”

  The rest of the insult died on my lips when he shoved me back onto the bed and lay down on top of me. His mouth covered mine and this time it was anything but sweet. His hands pushed under my top to where my breasts strained against the fabric of my bra. His fingers slipped underneath. Teasing, possessive. An electric shock passed through me and I arched up. He pushed my top over my head and dove down to taste the skin on my chest, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

  I cried out when he rolled me over in one swift movement onto my stomach. He undid the clasp on my bra and slipped it off. Then he rolled me onto my back again. His eyes roamed my half-naked body then dropped to my jeans. He undid the button and zip, and tugged them off.

  I pointed to the bedside table. “Top drawer.”

  John looked at the bedside table suspiciously. “I thought you said you don’t have men up here.”

  “I don’t. It just seemed like the obvious place to store the box.” And right now, thank God for that.

  “Right answer.” He rifled through the drawer and threw the small square sachet onto the bed. “Not just yet though.”

  He parted my legs. If his kisses earlier had been like an electric shock, now I was connected to the source. The surface of my skin felt charged with the desire he was sparking in me. I fought to push my body up off the bed, but he gripped my hips and held me down while his tongue sent shock waves to my fingertips and toes.

  “John,” I moaned.

  He ignored me. A hand released my hip and his fingertips found me wet. Gently he eased one into me, his tongue not letting up. It was torture. I could feel myself losing control.

  “John,” I gasped.

  No response. To be fair, he was rather busy.

  I cried out, the sound echoing around the apartment.

  “Please,” I whispered. I wanted him. Now.

  Too late. My body couldn’t contain the fierce electrical charge pulsing through me anymore. I tensed in agony as everything exploded from my head to my feet. John held me to the bed as I writhed underneath him.

  When I stilled, he eased up and looked at me. His eyes were less dangerous and held more of a lazy kind of satisfaction.

  I was having trouble focusing, but I still couldn’t resist the opportunity to torment him. “That’s it?” I croaked, discovering he’d almost stripped me of the power of speech.

  His jaw dropped open, the lazy satisfaction gone. “That’s it?” he growled, narrowing his eyes. “That’s it?”

  He was playing up his reaction for my benefit but my body responded anyway to the threatening glimmer in his eye. My pulse spiked and my breathing intensified.

  “I suggest you hold on.”

  He tugged my ankles and pulled me swiftly down the bed toward him. Hello, sheet burn. I looked up. I was directly underneath him. He reached for the packet, still sitting on the bed, and I watched in pained silence as he rolled it on. Then he positioned himself over me. Given his recent threat I’d expected him to be anything but gentle, but he surprised me again. He eased into me slowly until it felt like we were fused together.

  I gasped at the sensation of being filled completely. John’s entire body shuddered with the effort of maintaining control.

  “Finally,” he whispered.

  I couldn’t think of anything smart to say. Even if I wanted to, my throat felt dry from the basic act of breathing.

  He started moving inside me, long, slow, deliberate sweeps that left me in exquisite agony. His restraint was admirable. His patience and control were a serious turn on. Unfortunately for him I wasn’t into delayed gratification. I tilted my hips up to meet his and he pushed me back down gently.

  “John,” I complained in frustration.

  “Forgive me,” he said, through clenched teeth, “but I’ve been waiting a while to make love to you so I’m going to take
my time.”

  My eyes widened and I felt a chill run through me. I’d been so stupid. This wasn’t about sex. It had never been about sex. In a panic, I grabbed him by the hips and tilted my body up in an attempt to regain some control. As he eased into me again he went so deep we both cried out.

  “Scarlett,” he moaned.

  That was more like it.

  Except apparently not. He jumped up then dropped down beside me on the bed so that we lay spooned together. Or we would have if not for his obvious arousal. He pushed my leg up so he could maneuver himself inside me from behind. With one arm around my chest he pinned me to him and the other slipped between my legs.

  “Jesus,” I muttered. I was done for.

  If I’d thought his hugs were enveloping, this was overpowering. His strength was a turn on. His size was a turn on. I felt tiny and completely vulnerable in his arms yet absolutely safe. Pleasure speared through me, threatening to break me in two. It was like before, when I’d almost drowned. I felt desperate. Lost at sea.

  I whimpered as his fingers and body brought me closer and closer to release. I struggled against his grip, a part of me wanting to get away but a stronger, traitorous part of me powerless to. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. He held me tighter. I had nowhere to go, I realized. There was no escaping it. I could feel the wave coming. Every inch of me clenched in anticipation. I heard him suck in his breath.

  So instead of trying to escape, I buried my face in his chest and held on. I cried out, long and loud, and threw my head back, which was when John’s control finally slipped and we rode the wave together until we crashed to the shore. Ripples of pleasure washed over me and my body quivered with aftershocks. John’s arms remained wrapped around me possessively. Our bodies were slick with sweat. His breathing was heavy in my ear.

  And I was alive. Blissfully, inexorably alive.

  Chapter 25

  It was only a matter of time, I supposed. I’d been lucky to get this far.

  John stirred in bed and reached down. When his hand found the edge of the sheet he tugged it up and pulled it over his waist.

  Don’t do that! I wanted to cry out. The sheet was now covering his beautiful, glorious backside. At least his long expanse of back was still in full view. And what a view it was. The first rays of morning light were just starting to filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun gave me much better visibility but was chasing away the shadows I was attempting to include in my portrait. In the faint dawn light, John’s back was a fascinating study. The muscular ridges were dark in places and light in others. It highlighted his strength but also gave him an eerie sort of mystery.