Closing her eyes, she shoved that thought away. Take in the peace, she told herself, and listen to the night. In the distance, lake waves slithered against the silt, rocking the boat so the ropes holding it down creaked like crickets. Skitters and scurries betrayed the nocturnal critters going about their business in the trees surrounding the house. She was so attuned to the natural world that the soft clap of a quiet step on the deck behind her sounded like a gunshot.
She started and whirled, only to see Jace moving toward her. He’d changed from the slacks and shirt he’d worn earlier. In jeans and a T-shirt, he came to rest at the rail beside her, and stared into the darkness.
“Nice evening,” he murmured.
She’d thought so, before he’d arrived and scuttled her peaceful moment. “I should go—”
He cursed, ducked, cursed again as a handful of dark shapes flew close to their heads. “What the hell? Night vultures?”
She couldn’t help but snicker. “No.”
“Seriously.” His head tilted back to examine the sky. “What were those?”
“Bats.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m not kidding.” Glancing around, she saw a trio break from a nearby tree. “Bats,” she said, pointing to them.
Jace let out a low whistle. “And we’re without Vampira for the night.”
Smiling, she nudged him with her elbow. “No Vampira anymore.”
“You’re right. Thanks for that. She looks great.”
“She’s a great kid.”
As that comment settled between them, a previous one struck her...too late. Much too late. We’re without Vampira for the night.
London was gone. Shay and Jace were alone.
Maybe the same thought occurred to him, too, because he suddenly stilled and that now-familiar tension began humming in the air. She slid a glance sideways, noting his gaze was fixed on the lake.
“Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” he asked, his voice quiet.
The compliment shouldn’t have sent a warm thrill coursing through her, the slightly rough edge to his voice shouldn’t have felt like the stroke of a man’s palm down her naked back. She tried suppressing a shiver as the muscles low in her belly tightened.
“Thank you,” she said, and sounded breathless.
“Shay.” He still didn’t look at her as he let out a long breath. “This is going to be up to you.”
She didn’t need to ask what he meant by this. The possibility of another night together pulsed in air that was suddenly as thick as the blood coursing through her veins. Her limbs felt heavy, her body drugged by the desire that expanded with every inhale.
She glanced at him again, not sure how she felt about his latest declaration. “I made all the moves at the Deerpoint Inn.”
His head turned, and he smiled at her, forcing her to grip the rail so her weakening knees wouldn’t fail her. “I won’t fight you off this time,” he offered.
Oh, God.
Another night sounded so tempting, she thought, as the cool air raised goose bumps on her heated skin. She felt electrified, every cell zinging, every nerve on alert, her whole body primed to once again feel the touch of her secret lover.
It was only supposed to have been that once, a birthday treat. But why not? Why not a second time? Especially when she was considering a tremendous life change that would be anything but an indulgence.
Jace turned to her now, and his hand cupped her cheek, his workingman’s palm wide and slightly scratchy against her burning flesh. Just that simple caress was enough to abolish all counterarguments. Still, she wasn’t quite ready to surrender. “You said this was up to me,” she whispered. “No fair touching.”
His thumb gave her a tantalizing stroke. “I think I’ve pointed out the flaws in my character before.” But his hand moved away.
She snatched it in hers, pulled it back, nestled her face against him and closed her eyes. Breathing in, she tried slowing her heartbeat, but it clacked against her ribs, a runaway train that she couldn’t control. What she wanted, how fast she wanted him, was unseemly, she thought. Nothing like the sexual appetite of the pre-Jace Shay Walker, who strolled the straight and narrow so that people wouldn’t be reminded of her scandal-ridden beginnings.
His other hand sifted through her hair and her scalp prickled, another part of her coming alive thanks to his touch. “God, I want to do everything to you,” he said, the dark promise in his voice sending another erotic charge down her spine. She shuffled closer, her body pressing against his so that the heavy jut of his arousal surged against her belly. Between her legs she felt swollen and achy. He nudged her again and her breath hitched, her orgasm hovering only a quiver away.
“But slow,” he murmured as if reading her mind. A wicked smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “So slow you’ll despise me before I let you come.”
He was teasing, she knew, but she wanted that, too, she thought. That sounded safe.
Please. Make me despise him before this is through.
* * *
JACE SLID HIS hands down Shay’s slender back to cup her bottom. He fit her more snugly against him, then bent his head to take her mouth. She tasted hot and sweet and as his fingers tightened on her soft flesh, he ground his mouth on hers, ravenous for her.
Which made him instantly ease up.
She was delicate, slender, and he was a big man. It was his nature to want to use his physicality, but he’d promised to go slow, and the way to do that was not to hold too tight. Not to possess, just pet.
He drew his lips away from her mouth, taking a feather’s path to the hollow behind her ear. His tongue dabbed there and then he nipped the small lobe, her shudder his reward.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders, but he ignored the urgent clasp to take another meandering route down her neck. Every instinct urged to bite, suck, mark—God, primitive stuff!—but he merely skated his lips against the tender skin, feeling it move beneath his mouth as breath stuttered in her throat.
That this beautiful woman wanted him...
He lifted his head, struggling for calm. Her eyes were closed, he could see the fan of her lashes against her cheeks and he dropped tiny kisses on each eyelid, trying to convey how much her desire undid him.
His mouth once again found hers and he trailed a hand up her spine to find the tab of her dress’s zipper at the middle of her back. He drew it toward her waist in tiny increments, until she gasped and pulled away.
“Not here,” she said, her tone alarmed. Her hand pressed to the bodice to keep it in place.
He kissed her temple, her forehead, the downy softness of her left eyebrow. “The bats won’t mind.”
“Someone could drive by in a boat,” she said in a stage whisper.
Smiling a little, he glanced over her shoulder at the dark and tranquil lake. “Why would anybody come to our end of the cove at this time of night?”
“Jace.”
“All right, all right.” He took her free hand and drew her through the glass doors. Once inside, he continued toward the great room. The lights had been dimmed here, and he stopped beside the couch, unable to go another inch without tasting her again.
This kiss was rougher, he allowed himself just a little of that, his tongue aggressive against hers. She melted into his body, both sets of fingers clutching his waist. Her bodice sagged a little and one skinny strap dropped toward her elbow. He cruised his mouth along the curve of her neck and scraped his teeth against the refined bone of her shoulder. There was so much elegance in her design that he wanted to stretch her onto a flat surface and have his way with her limbs, her arched feet, her slender hands, examining each part of her with the avid interest of a builder.
He’d take her fingers into his mouth to learn their shape. Bend her knees up, then out,
her soles pressed together so he could admire the erotic, feminine angles and the soft folded secrets between her thighs.
His hands drifted down to the hem of her skirt, finding the bare skin of her legs. He touched her there, the fabric catching on his wrists as he drifted his fingertips over sleek warm flesh toward her panties.
She moaned when he found lace, traveled farther, then dipped both hands inside the stretchy material to cup her bottom, bare palms to bare flesh. She shuddered against him and lust flooded his body, steeling his muscles and causing his skin to burn.
He dropped onto the sofa cushions, pulling her over him. Their mouths fused and he steeped himself once again in her taste, his hands flexing in resilient flesh. Her hips rocked, pushing into his palms, then pushing against his hard cock. Jace groaned, his control beginning to unravel.
Switching positions, he began to draw down the scrap of lace.
She helped, yanking up the hem of her dress, then her eyes flew open. “Wait! I can’t do it here.”
He ignored her batting hands. “No boats, darlin’.”
“Your daughter sits on this couch,” she said, gaze boring into his.
“Hell.” The idea was nearly a lust-killer “Okay. Fine. Up you go.” He had Shay on her feet and began to hustle her toward the stairs, the master bedroom his intended destination. Then he halted. “Double hell.”
“What?” Her hair was disheveled, her mouth slightly swollen, her cheeks a delicious pink. If they didn’t get somewhere horizontal soon he was going to ravish her standing up.
“I can’t do it on that fucking bed with the chains. I’ll flip us both over.” He shot her a look. “So it’s your room or nothing, baby.”
“But...but...we’ll have to walk past London’s.”
“Close your eyes,” he ordered, swinging her up in his arms.
She laughed, burying her face in his neck until he nudged her door open with his foot. The room was lit by a small bedside lamp and he took in the flowers in the short vase beside it, the soft throw draped over an easy chair in the corner, the white and fluffy lace-edged duvet. A photo of Mason stood on the long dresser and he paused to flip the frame facedown. “We’re officially a no-kid zone now,” he said.
She giggled, then pressed kisses to his throat, raising his temperature and spiking his lust. But he lay her against the covers and backed away to gaze on her in the faint golden glow of the lamp. Her skin was luminous, her hair gleaming with color and life. She was a candle, bringing radiance to the bleak dreariness of his soul.
What a ridiculous flight of fancy, he told himself, dismissing the idea as he watched her eyelids drift lower until her lashes brushed her rosy cheeks. Her fingers opened to clutch handfuls of the silky material of her skirt, inching it upward. “Take off your clothes, Jace,” she whispered.
“Sure,” he said easily, though his gaze was riveted to the flesh she was slowly revealing. “And you take off yours.”
Instead of complying with her request, he remained still as Shay drew the dress up her slender body. There were the lacy panties, the color of flesh, and a matching strapless bra that cupped her breasts like he wanted to. Once the fabric was pulled over her head, she blinked, finding him there, staring at her half-naked form.
“You’re still dressed,” she said with a little frown.
“I told you I’d make you despise me,” he said, teasing her again. Then he gestured with his hand. “Go ahead. I’m watching. Waiting.”
Her eyes widened and her fingers tightened on the dress she still held. He saw the struggle on her face, and wondered if she’d take up his challenge.
A long moment passed. He didn’t exhale until her gaze shifted to his. She held her hand over the side of the bed, uncurled her fingers and let the dress fall.
His cock twitched, every iron inch of it. As her fingers drew slowly down the center line of her body, his lungs seized. She circled her navel with a fingertip, drew it across the horizontal line of her panties, then to the center again so she could retrace her way back toward her breasts.
Jace fisted his hands, trying to keep them under control, though they itched to travel that same path with a hotter, heavier touch in order to rend the fabric covering her flesh so he could have all that he wanted of her.
Grasp. Take. Possess.
But this was the game he’d determined, and he held himself immobile as she drew her palms to the sides of her breasts and then inward, stroking herself over the lacy bra. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat, his mouth drying as he saw that her nipples were tight now, poking up in invitation.
Still, he didn’t move.
Not even when she sat up and her hands reached behind her back. He saw the instant the bra was unfastened, the lace beginning to release its hold, but she caught it against her, one arm crossing her chest.
Jace groaned, his cock damn uncomfortable in its denim prison. “Shay...”
“Is there a problem?” she asked, one eyebrow arched as she kept her breasts from his gaze with her cruel hand holding the fabric to her skin.
“I want to see,” he muttered.
And she smiled.
The seductive warmth of it hit him like a blow to the chest and he swayed on his feet. Her compliance in this little game, her confidence in this moment was a gift, he realized. A gift to him that was almost unbelievable.
Trust.
No one—no woman—had ever trusted him like this.
In another slow movement, Shay slid the lace away, revealing the perfection of her breasts. Her arm moved like a ballerina’s to release the bra. It floated to the ground on top of her dress.
Every one of his muscles was strung tight. His avid gaze consumed her, all those inches of glowing, apricot flesh, the tight tips of her nipples, the triangle of material that was her only covering now. She drew her thumbs along her hips and looped them in the narrow sides of her panties.
She hesitated.
He broke.
One minute he was by the side of the bed, the next, he was on it and yanking that scrap of lace down the length of her smooth legs. Then he crawled between them, desperate, and held her open while he leaned down for his first taste of her.
At the last instant he remembered—gentle!—and he corralled his voracious hunger for her. Breathing in the creamy scent of her arousal, he just looked at those beautiful glistening folds flowering for him.
His.
But he reined that in as well and bent his head, his tongue moving in short brushstrokes, opening her there, exposing the little nub that he caressed with the very tip of his tongue.
She cried out, one hand spearing in his hair, the other curling into the duvet at her side. He slid his palms under her bottom, tilting her hips so that he could play with her like a tender delicacy that had to be licked, sipped, savored.
Too soon she was moaning, her whole body tense. He lifted his mouth from her.
“Jace...” It was nearly a wail of protest.
He pressed a kiss to her stomach, glanced up to meet her eyes.
“I despise you,” she said, her tone earnest. “I really do.”
Chuckling, he crawled up her hot body, her legs twining his hips. “Not enough,” he said, then he closed his mouth over her breast, drew up so only the nipple was between his lips and gave a pull.
A gentle pull.
She banged on his shoulder with her fist, which made him want to laugh again, but then it was just so good to have that sweet, hard tip in his mouth and he filled his hand with the other breast, cupping and caressing.
Her fist banged again. “I loathe you,” she said as he moved his mouth along her soft skin to the other nipple. He toyed with that, too. “Loathe you,” Shay said again.
He smiled against her flesh then drew his mouth along her collarbone, up her nec
k, to meet her lips. She opened for him instantly, drawing in his tongue, sucking on it hard as if to show him how it must be done.
He was steaming beneath his clothes, his body primed for her. Forking his hand in her hair, he tilted her head for a different fit and kissed her, completely, adding a touch of ravish, then backed off before lust overcame him.
“I’m too heavy for you,” he murmured, but her limbs cinched down on him.
“No, I like your weight.” She pressed her mouth to his jaw, bit him there. “I’d like your naked weight better.”
Giving in to what they both wanted, he did a one-arm push-up, using the other hand to yank at his T-shirt and lift it over his head. Then he lowered to her, his chest brushing the hard, ruched tips of her breasts. Her head turned to the side and she moaned, her fingers trailing along his spine. They insinuated themselves under the waistband of his jeans and the elastic of his boxers.
He shuddered.
“Please, Jace,” she whispered in his ear. “I want you. I need you.”
Hauling in a breath, he moved down her body again. He peppered kisses over her breasts, his tongue swiping just the crests of her nipples. “I abhor you, Jace,” she said as he made his way back down to the wet, soft center of her.
She cried out when he tongued her there. He gave her more friction this time, playing with the small nub and pinching it between his lips. She was panting, her neck arching, her hips curling toward him. He went on one elbow to watch her lovely, lovely face as he insinuated a finger inside her. Then two.
Her eyes widened, her gaze snapped to his. He began to move them, in slow circles and tender thrusts. Her heels dug into the mattress and he turned his face to kiss the inside of one knee, and then the other.
With his tongue, he wrote his initials there.
She made a sound, low in her throat. “I detest you,” she said. “I loathe you, I abhor you. Do you hear me? I despise you.”
And then it was time. He lowered his head, found her clit with his mouth and sucked firmly. At the same time he thrust deep inside the heated clasp of her body. Three fingers.
Make Me Lose Control Page 17