If anything, she’d told them what to do. She’d been the one in control and that was how she liked it. That was the way it had always been and she’d assumed that was that way it was always going to be.
Until now.
Until a few minutes with Jack had exposed her to a whole new territory. A sexual world that beckoned to be explored.
Elizabeth drifted back to her closet to grab one of the two pairs of jeans she owned. Thinking of Jack’s attentive gaze, she reached for the smaller pair, wiggled into them and then checked the view in the mirror.
Panty lines.
She peeled them off, pulled out one of the black thongs she wore to yoga and spotted a lacy push-up bra she hardly ever wore. Remembering the way it made her average sized breasts look two sizes bigger, she pulled it out. The scraps of fabric went on quickly and she was soon checking the back view of her jeans again.
Better.
The full swells overflowing the pale pink bra cups looked damn good too. Feeling more confident, she flipped through her blouses. Straightforward, silky shirts flashed by. Cream. White. Light Blue. All very professional. She and Mandy really did need to get some power shopping time in. Pronto.
After digging around in the far corner, she spotted the snug, crimson turtleneck Carrie had given her last Christmas.
What had her sister been thinking? It was so small it clung to the hanger. She didn’t have a choice, it was the only casual thing she owned besides the oversized T-shirts she used for walking.
After tugging it on, she glanced in the mirror above her dresser, a come-hither grin curving her mouth. It was a size smaller than she usually wore and it hugged more curves than she remembered having, showing off the outline of her breasts in eye-catching detail.
So, that’s what her sister had in mind.
Thanks, sis. That ought to get his attention.
Feeling more sure of herself, she headed for her blow dryer and makeup. For the make-up, she kept it on the light side, except around her eyes, which she darkened at the corners.
It was her hair that had her stumped. When was the last time she’d worn her hair down? Last summer, while she was on vacation maybe. But she wasn’t about to let anyone see her looking like that. After combing it in different directions, she decided to simply part it on the side and blow it straight. The effect was sleek and fresh. Sort of a sexy girl-next-door.
She finished putting the hair dryer away just as a heavy knock sounded from the door. She pulled it open , revealing a tough-looking man loitering in her doorway.
The snug T-shirt that outlined Jack’s muscular chest and shoulders left nothing to the imagination. Soft, white cotton clung securely to his flat stomach and defined the firm curves of his chiseled arms. A leather jacket hung from one fist.
Black leather chaps sheathed his legs, highlighting the bulging center of his faded jeans. The worn denim surrounding the zipper was molded to the very promising bulge in a way that had Elizabeth not only curious but hungry…desperately hungry.
He gave her a raking once-over, taking in every inch of her eager body before letting his gaze linger on her breasts. Her nipples tightened obediently, begging for his attention. Angling his shoulder into her doorjamb, he leaned in, a wolfish smile lighting his eyes as their gazes met. “Bad boy Jack here to take you out for a good time.”
There seemed to be an invisible connection between her breasts and her clit because she could feel her inner core getting slick with anticipation. When she realized she’d started gawking wishfully at his groin, she jerked away. “I’ll get my sweater.”
He stopped her with a gentle pull on her arm. “I’ve got everything you need.” The firm grip of his steady fingers guided her outside. After reaching behind her to pull her door shut, he draped his arm across her shoulders and started walking with long strides that ate up the walkway. He gave her no choice but to fall in beside him.
When they turned the corner of her apartment building, she spotted a fierce looking motorcycle parked by the curb. She couldn’t even guess what kind it was but the gleaming chrome glinting in the last rays of Texas sunlight sparked her already overactive imagination, that fantasy of her straddling Jack transformed, the bike replacing the chair.
She took a sidelong glance at Jack and saw the upward tilt of his mouth. Was the bike his? Or was there some sort of co-op for escorts where they could get whatever props they needed?
With a hand at the base of her spine, he led her to the menacing machine. Its raw power promised freedom from responsibility, a break from her usual self.
He handed her a helmet from the back rest. “Slide it on, I’ll snap it.”
While she watched him slip on his own helmet, distasteful questions pressed into her mind. How many other women had worn this helmet? Had he used the bike to impress them? He grinned wickedly as he set the heavy jacket over her shoulders and her reservations fled.
When she slipped her arms into the wide sleeves, the musky smell of leather and him seeped into her pores. As soon as he turned his back, she pulled in a long, deep breath. It smelled like sex. Hot, hard, quick sex.
Jack swung his leg across the seat and nodded for her to do the same. After she did, he took her arms and wrapped them around his waist, tucking her fingers under the smooth strap of his chaps. She followed his lead, closing her fingers around the strip of leather a fraction of an inch above that eye-catching bulge in his jeans.
If she stretched her fingers out, even a tiny bit, she could skim her nails across that close fitting denim. Since when did she have unrestrained thoughts like that? Since she’d walked into Jack Harley’s office, that’s when.
“Ready?” he asked.
Not at all.
But she nodded and he flipped the key to bring the machine to life. Her shoulders tensed as the bike rolled forward and she squeezed her fingers. The engine hummed softly at first, then louder and the wind picked up the ends of her hair.
The soft cotton of Jack’s shirt smelled intensely male. The hard muscles beneath her fingers were strong and unyielding. Holding onto him as the world whipped past felt perfect.
What were the neighbors going to think? Ordinary Elizabeth Sewell, quiet woman and good neighbor, wearing biker leathers and holding onto a sinful man the way a drunk holds onto a bottle. As soon as they were out of her lot, her cares vanished. Let them wonder. Just as long as they didn’t talk to her mom or sister.
The bike pulsated beneath the seat and the last blocks of apartments blurred past. He shouldered into a turn and Elizabeth reflectively squeezed her legs only to find her arousal was quickly turning into undeniable need.
Jack must have felt her stiffen, because he reached around to tug her close. The intimate contact only made things worse but his reassuring embrace gave her an excuse to wiggle, seeking an angle that would increase the pressure on her anxious, swollen clit.
Three positions later, she was nearly moaning with frustration and unable to give up. Each time he redirected the bike, she arched her back and leaned forward, straddling the bike the way she’d imagined riding Jack. As he gunned the engine to merge onto the highway, she thrust forward against the seat, feeling the first lick of a climax. The sweet sensation exploded between her legs, easing some of the sexual tension thrumming through her but flickered out too quickly.
There was only one way to get the release her body was begging for. How far was she willing to go to get it?
—
Dealing with Elizabeth’s feminine hands so close to his groin was enough to make any sane man certifiable and with her constant wiggling, pressing the soft swells of her breasts into his back, it was a wonder he could stay on the road. The cool night air was doing little to soften the edge that would be cutting into him all night. He’d been a fool to think he’d be satisfied by spending only several hours with Elizabeth Sewell.
Having her arms wrapped around him felt more right than anything had in a long time. Not right-for-one-night right but plain right. Getting
her out of his system was going to take more than a night of talking, touching and a few experimental kisses.
Being a forward thinking, positive man, he came up a new plan. By the end of their date, he’d make sure she accepted the electricity pulsing between them. Once she understood that, telling her he was actually an attorney would be no big deal.
Judging from the look on her face when she’d found her special order bad boy on her doorstep, he believed what she’d said about her scattered experiences with men. She hadn’t been with many. Not the kind who took matters into his own hands, at any rate. Timing would be everything but he could be patient. He ground his jaw just thinking about all that untested desire flowing through her veins.
Twenty minutes later, he turned down a short slope into a narrow parking lot. Gravel crunched under the tires as he rolled closer to the orange neon sign that read The Road Runner. There were a few cars mixed in with the trucks but it was easy for the passerby to tell this particular bar was filled with roughnecks and cowboys.
Definitely the type of place a real bad boy would go for a few beers and a couple games of pool. He’d been a couple times with his cousin Denton and knew it was safe and usually pretty quiet. A place where people came to unwind rather than get drunk and fight. Leo, the owner, was a man who didn’t take kindly to customers who made life difficult.
Jack parked his bike by the far west corner of the building, next to a matching pair of white BMWs, flipped off the engine and pocketed the key. Stretching back and tapping Elizabeth’s thigh, he said, “Hop off, I’ll hold the bike steady.”
She cupped his shoulder with her left hand before swinging her right leg across the bike and hopping down as though she’d been a biker’s girl for years. As soon as she took her helmet off, she started fluffing out her hair quick flicks of her slender wrists.
The gentle movement put an arch in her back, jutting her tempting breasts out and making her hips sway invitingly. If he got her to move like that when they were naked, he’d position his shaft in the cleft between her cheeks, stroking until she spread her legs, then drive in with one solid thrust.
Or would he move in, inch by inch, going so slowly she bucked back against him?
“Jack?”
She’d stopped messing with her hair and was offering him the helmet.
Men were not designed to think while under this kind of sexual pressure, he noted, reminding himself what he was supposed to be doing—playing the part of a bad boy and using every trick he had to make certain Elizabeth recognized their undeniable chemistry. Once she acknowledged it, he’d be there to lead her to the natural next step. Including that very natural scenario that had just been burning up his mind.
Working to keep up his act, he tipped his head toward the door. It stood open a crack, sending rock music into the night. The rolling rhythm vibrated against his skin, charging up his already overtaxed nervous system. “Let’s go.”
Her gaze darted to the entrance. “Have you been here before?”
Having her on edge was one thing, having her afraid for her life was another. “Enough times to know what kind of people hang out here.”
A tiny smile curved her lips. “Guys in leather who ride motorcycles? Cowboys?”
“Yep.” An annoying emotion that felt strangely like jealousy flowed through him. He wasn’t really worried about her hooking up with some stranger but still, he wasn’t taking any chances. “Yes, both. But we’re taking these types one at a time, aren’t we?”
After she acknowledged him, he nodded at the door again.
Her chin dipped down about half an inch. Coming out with him couldn’t have been easy, yet here she was, ready to do whatever she had to make her dreams a reality. Her dream of finding a man for that meaningful, long-term relationship. A different man—one who wasn’t him.
An arrow of guilt pierced his heart and threatened to pull the truth out of him but he swallowed against it. As soon as the time was right, he’d tell her what she needed to know. She had to know that the only long-term goal he had was getting his private practice up and running. He’d left a lifetime of binding commitments back in Dallas and now was time for him to do things his way. It would be years, if ever, before he’d start considering serious commitments.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth straightened and inched toward the dented metal door. She’d already had an orgasm on the back of a motorcycle, how much more wild could things get?
Maybe there was a whole side to her personality she didn’t know existed. It didn’t seem likely but what else would explain her instant reaction to Jack’s rough-around-the-edges look?
Enough second-guessing. She yanked the handle and thick smoke greeted her when she stepped across the threshold. Dark shapes hunched along the bar and clusters of people leaned over tables that filled the packed room.
Jack slipped past her, grabbed her hand and tugged her down a narrow hallway. A painted sign pointed to the restrooms and shelves lined the walls. He set the helmets on the top one, slipped out of his chaps, which gave her the perfect opportunity to admire his ass in motion and took the leather jacket off her shoulders. After he hung the chaps and jacket on a hook, he grabbed her waist and pulled their bodies together.
“Something to drink?” He stepped forward, brushing her inner thigh with his knee. “Beer sound good enough?”
The gleam in his eye held a challenge. She angled her head and studied him but his gaze revealed nothing. Finally, she shrugged. “Sure, that’s fine. Thanks.”
He led her back to the bar and stopped in front of a burly, old man who loomed behind the battered counter like a stage prop. As soon as the man spotted them, he stretched forward, his weathered face creasing into a smile. “Hey Jack, long time no see. What can I get you folks tonight?”
Jack introduced Elizabeth, ordered and then asked about the man’s latest fishing adventures. Half-listening to their banter, Elizabeth wondered if Jack brought other “dates” to The Road Runner. Not likely. At least she hoped not, because she didn’t want to imagine him there with other women. It was unreasonable but she didn’t want to imagine him anywhere else with other women either.
The bartender flashed a grin her way. “So is this your first time at my fine establishment?”
Elizabeth nodded, accepting one of the long-neck bottles of beer.
When Leo asked Jack his opinion of a Monday night football game, Elizabeth turned slightly to scan the boisterous crowd. Four well-used pool tables filled a back room that was visible through a set of double doors. A dozen or so card-size tables and a row of booths took up the front.
Two men leaning on the juke box along the far wall, particularly a tall one with blond hair, caught her eye. His dark cowboy hat sat low, giving him a tough, ominous look but there was something about him that kept Elizabeth from pulling away. Maybe it was the stubble outlining his jaw, making her think of a hasty, rough hayloft tumble. Maybe it was the expressive way he moved his large hands. With each gesture, his lean hips jutted back and forth, the sharp movements steady and strong. The slow, rocking motion mesmerized Elizabeth and she stared, waiting for each pulsing sway.
His movements stopped and Elizabeth jerked with shock at the shit-eating grin slanting across his lips as he tipped his hat at her. Even though she couldn’t hear his low, sexy, chuckle, goose bumps dotted her arms.
No man had ever leered at her that way, as though he knew exactly what she wanted and he was the one to give it to her.
Well, except Jack. But he didn’t count, with him it was business.
“Good thing I’m not the jealous type.”
Jack’s mouth was turned up but the challenge in his eyes made Elizabeth’s throat tense. The firm set of his jaw and the steely threat in his gaze sent a chill down her spine that went deeper than the off-kilter thrill she’d gotten from gawking at the cowboy.
Was Jack’s expression part of the bad boy act, or did that look belong to the real Jack Harley? Chilly disappointment pierced
the heat swelling in her stomach. She’d never know the answer to that.
Still scowling at the man by the jukebox, Jack shoved away from the bar and tugged her along. She trotted between the cramped tables with the bang of bottles and bursts of laugher in her ears. He settled her into one of the secluded booths and dropped onto the bench beside her. The tall seat-back blocked out the jukebox, the cowboys leaning on it and nearly everyone else.
Elizabeth crossed her legs and spread her fingers around the neck of her beer bottle and picked at the label. If she was on a real date she’d apologize for her behavior, drooling at strangers wasn’t polite but she wasn’t on a real date. When she spotted Jack watching her, she offered him a sheepish smile. “I didn’t realize he’d notice me.”
“You were staring at him as if he were the last man on Earth.”
Had she been staring like that? No, not quite.
She wouldn’t squirm under Jack’s dark gaze. If she had been staring, it was his fault for flipping the switch that brought her dormant sex drive to life.
Thinking about that challenging glimmer she’d seen in Jack’s eyes when he’d asked her about the drinks, she lifted her chin and said simply, “I wanted to see if he’d turn me on.”
He frowned but his gaze lightened. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”
Smoothing a strand of hair through her fingers, daring him to touch it, she continued. “I like to make efficient strides toward my goals. You were busy with Leo.”
Jack’s mouth shifted. Not into a smile but it wasn’t a frown either. “I’ll be sure to give you my undivided attention for the rest of the night.”
Elizabeth looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “Only if you want to, Mr. Harley.” She leaned back and sipped her beer. When he remained silent she added, “I bet I could find someone else to do your job for free.”
“You haven’t paid me anything.” He laid one arm across the table and set the tips of his fingers on the side of her neck. Her pulse drummed, straining upward to meet his touch. Moist heat burned through her when he trailed his hand along her neck but doubt crept in, chilling the thrill in her veins.
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