Olivia sat a little straighter, pulling out of the circle of Jack's arm and removing her hand from his reassuring clasp. He let her go, sitting a little away himself, as if to give her the space she needed to say whatever else she needed to say.
She rubbed at her burning eyes. Her fingers came away smudged with the makeup she'd so artfully applied before coming to Jack's room. And the smudges reminded her of what a fool she'd just been.
She told him the rest. "I had to get away, Jack. I got in my car and drove all night to get here, to Las Vegas. And I met you. And the way you looked at me, I thought you … wanted me. Just because I was me. I mean, you didn't even know who I was that first night, when you saw me at the blackjack table and followed me out onto the street. And best of all, there was the way I felt when I looked at you. I thought, well, maybe my life is pointless. But Cameron was wrong. The way I feel about Jack proves I'm not a cold fish after all."
She looked deep into Jack's eyes, which were so very dark and full of things she couldn't understand. "But now I see the truth, Jack. You're a kind man and a good one. You've been nice to me. I don't know why. But I finally get it. You're not interested in me in any romantic way and I—"
Jack loosed a short, crude expletive.
Olivia hiccuped in surprise. "Pardon me?"
"I said, that is baloney."
"I don't think baloney was the word you used."
"Don't cloud the issue. What I'm telling you is, I'm damned interested in you."
"Oh, Jack." She shook her head. Then she stood and looked down at him. "See? That's how you are. Kind. Trying to let me down easy."
"I am not kind." His eyes were narrowed. "If I were kind, I would let you believe this garbage you're spouting. I'd hustle you out of here and wish you well with your life—which I'm certain is far from pointless, by the way."
"Oh, Jack. Thanks for trying. But I've already made enough of a fool of myself for one night. I've had a lovely time with you and I—"
He grabbed her hand and yanked her onto his lap.
"Jack!"
"You're going nowhere. Yet." He shifted her around a little, so that she was sitting sideways.
"But Jack, I—"
"Listen." He put his forehead against hers and spoke through gritted teeth. "When I opened the door and found you there just now, I could hardly move. Or speak. And not because I wasn't attracted to you. Get it? But because, when you knocked on the door, I was dreaming of you, in that strange red dress you were wearing that first night I saw you. And in my dream you were taking off that red dress. Slowly. Very slowly."
Olivia could hardly breathe. Somehow the surge of hope and pleasure she was feeling had cut off her air. "Oh, Jack. Are you sure you—?"
He stopped her words with a single burning glance. "Yes."
"Well then, why haven't you kissed me, Jack? Why haven't you, um…"
"Made love with you?"
She looked down at her hands, which were twisting together. "Yes."
"Because I'm not who you think I am."
She lifted her head, looked in his eyes. "What do you mean?"
He dragged in a breath. "I'm a—"
Olivia knew, in a burst of painful understanding, that she didn't want to hear it, not now, not tonight. "No!" She put her hand on his mouth. "I've changed my mind. Don't say it."
"But I—"
"No. Listen." Her voice was strong and steady, a tone so uncharacteristic of her that it shocked them both just a little. "You listen to me."
His eyes searched hers. And at last, with a slow nod, he agreed to her demand. He would not talk until she'd had her say.
For a moment she had no idea how to begin. But then the words came.
"Tonight," she said. "Tonight, right now. This is our night, Jack. It's going to happen for us tonight. And nothing, not whatever you're keeping from me, or my fear that you'll find out how really horrible I am in bed—nothing is going to stop it from happening. Nothing. Do you understand?"
"But—"
"Shh." This time her voice was softer. "Please. You and me, together. In this bed. That's what I want tonight. Is it what you want too, Jack?"
Jack looked away.
She took his chin and guided him back so he had to look at her. "Is it?"
She stared into his eyes, willing him to say the words she longed to hear. "Stop thinking," she commanded. "Do you want me?"
Jack looked at her. He despised himself for what he was about to do.
But he was a starving man. And she'd laid a banquet before him.
To hell with it. He'd take what she offered.
One night of bliss.
"Yes, I want you."
"Then won't you please make love with me?"
"Yes." He gave her the answer before she even finished asking the question.
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
As soon as she heard his yes, Olivia let out a long sigh. Then, smiling, she rested against him.
Jack wrapped both arms around her and cradled her close. She nuzzled his shirt, scenting him and loving the feel of him, the warmth and the strength.
Now that it was truly decided, a shyness came over her. She had no more to say. But he stroked her hair and caressed her back and kissed the crown of her head.
One and then the other, her naughty red slippers dropped to the floor.
"I'm trying to think logically," he murmured against her neck.
"Stop that," she chided. "There's no need for logic now."
His hand, rough, warm and large, was on her thigh, where her coat had fallen away. She looked down at it, saw that the back of it was dusted with shiny gold hair. He began rubbing her thigh, back and forth.
She let her eyes drift closed. And she simply felt his touch. It was lovely. "Olivia."
"Um?"
"There is a need for logic in one area."
"What?"
"Contraception."
She felt very smug. "Oh, forget that. I've taken care of that."
The rogue dared to chuckle. "What? You're carrying protection around in a pocket of that fancy coat?"
"No. In a brown paper bag." She pointed at the table. "That bag, to be specific."
She could tell by how quiet he was that he was repressing more chuckling. "I see."
"I called the concierge. They sent a box, along with the champagne. A dozen. Will that be enough?"
"Hmm." He thought that over. "I suppose a dozen will just have to do."
"Well." Suddenly she felt shy again. "Good." She buried her face in his chest and found herself wondering if she really was going to be able to go through with this after all.
She'd felt so utterly sure just a moment ago. But now, the more she thought about it…
"Shh," he said against her hair. "Don't think. The time for thinking is over."
"Yes." She whispered the word. "I know that. I do."
He stroked her back and shoulders some more with one hand, while the hand on her thigh continued its wonderful massage. Then his fingers strayed.
She murmured his name and then gave a small, excited gasp as his hand slipped inside her coat and touched the red satin there. A little thrill of delight skittered through her as he began slowly to stroke upward.
"I love the feel of you, Olivia." He murmured the words on a ragged breath, gathering her closer, into the heat and hardness of him.
It was then that she felt the bulge of his manhood, pressing at her softness. She shivered a little, both frightened and aroused.
His hand moved between the satin and the lace, up over her rib cage, until it found her breast. She gasped.
He whispered something against her temple. She didn't hear the words. And then his lips tasted her skin. He nibbled a trail over her cheekbone. His mouth sought hers.
And found it.
Olivia let out a small, grateful cry. At last. After four nights of wondering if she would ever know the feel of Jack's lips on hers, it was happening.
And it was everything she'd yearned for. And more.
His mouth played on hers, his teeth lightly nipping, his tongue pressing for entry.
On a soft exhalation, Olivia parted her lips. And his tongue was inside.
Olivia was absolutely stunned. It was wonderful. His mouth tasted hers, his arms held her close.
He broke the kiss. Olivia moaned. His lips moved to her chin, her neck, the little points of bone at the base of her throat.
He gave a low growl. Her coat was in his way. He shoved the soft fur aside, urging her to lift up a little. And then the coat was gone.
The next sound he made was a hungry one as he lowered his head and nibbled starved, hot kisses on her shoulder. As he tasted her skin, he pushed impatiently at the lace robe. He helped her free of the sleeves quickly, ruthlessly. And when the little scrap of robe no longer covered her, he tossed it away, too.
And then, for a moment, he was still.
Olivia felt her heart stop. He seemed to be studying the red satin gown, as if it were the wrapping on a very special package. Experimentally he slid a finger beneath one of the gown's slender straps. Slowly he lifted the strap and let it fall along her arm.
The left side of the gown dropped away, revealing one high, pink-tipped breast. Olivia had to hold back a moan that would also have been a plea. She wanted him to touch her breast.
"What?" he softly inquired.
"Yes?"
"I want…"
"What?" He smiled a smile that seemed to know it all. And then his hand was straying again. Moving inexorably downward until, at last, she had her wish.
His hand swept over her breast, sending arrows of pure pleasure down to the feminine heart of her. He brushed back and forth, making her nipple into a hard, hungry nub.
In an ecstasy of sensation, Olivia let her head fall back. Jack cupped her breast, his hand so very warm and encompassing. And then he lowered his head and replaced his hand with his mouth. He licked. And then he sucked.
Olivia let out a groan that was so purely sexual she hardly knew it as her own. She shoved her hands into his hair and clutched him close, as he kissed her in a way that made her cry out for more and more of the same.
He pulled away enough to challenge silkily, "You're trembling."
"I…" Her skin flamed.
"Don't be embarrassed. It's the same for me."
"It is?"
"Don't you know what you do to me?" His hand was on her thigh again, sliding upward, until it disappeared beneath the hem of her short gown. "You turn me inside out."
"Oh, Jack."
"All I want to do is touch you, right here."
She gasped as his finger stroked the little strip of silk that covered her mound. The light teasing touch sent a shaft of liquid heat all through her. Her womanhood seemed to bloom. It was all at once hot and heavy and moist.
He must have felt the heat and moisture through the scrap of silk. He made a male sound of discovery, of satisfaction.
She let out a low moan of pleasure.
Beneath the hem of her gown, his fingers quested, rubbing her more boldly, pressing against the barrier of now-damp cloth. She squirmed and wriggled, pushing herself against his hand. And he seemed to know exactly what her body wanted, because he stretched her panties out of the way.
And then he was touching her, in her most secret place. His fingers found her and parted her.
She cried out. He muttered something low and knowing. She moved, frantic and needful, against his stroking hand.
And then it happened. Like a flower made of moist fire, she felt herself opening, expanding, pulsing out to set the rest of her aflame. She called out something that wasn't a word, but was nonetheless utterly triumphant and totally free. And then she went limp in Jack's strong arms.
"Olivia," he whispered, after several moments had gone by.
"Um?"
"Come on." Proprietarily he smoothed the strap of her gown back in place over her shoulder, covering her breast again. "Lie down."
"Um," she said again. It was the only thing she could manage right then. She felt so contented. So peaceful. Like a little boat drifting on a still summer sea.
She grumbled a bit in protest when he slid her off his lap and onto the bed. But he ignored her murmurs of complaint, as he stood and then bent to raise her feet onto the mattress and to urge her to lie with her head among the pillows.
When she was comfortable, he straightened and looked down at her. "Feel good?"
"Um." She stretched a little, pointing her toes, thoroughly enjoying the way his gaze swept over her, hot and possessive. She held up her arms.
But he didn't come down to her.
He took one of her hands and lightly kissed it. Then he went quickly to the table and returned with the brown bag. From it he took the box of condoms, which he set on the nightstand.
After that he undressed. He did it swiftly, tossing each item of clothing onto the corner chair as he removed it.
Most of his body was already familiar to her. They had shared more than one swim at the roof pool, after all. But still, to see him standing before her completely naked made the heat start to curl in her belly all over again.
She gazed on the fine musculature of his shoulders and arms, wondering again at the scars that here and there marred the bronze perfection of his skin. She let her gaze wander, following the T of golden hair that whorled around his nipples, trailed down his solar plexus and over the rock-hard planes of his abdomen. The hair grew darker near the juncture of his thighs. He was fully ready for lovemaking. She blushed a little at the sight.
With the swift and easy grace so characteristic of him, he stretched out beside her. He pressed himself along the length of her. She found herself assailed by a thousand sensations.
There was the heat of him and that manly scent that was only his. There was the corded strength of him. And the rough kiss of his body hair.
He clasped her waist. His hand slid upward. He took the straps of her gown and peeled them down, one at a time, revealing both of her round, pale breasts. He bent over her, gently, and kissed each one in turn. She gasped a little, and she felt his smile against her skin.
"Sit up."
She did as he bade. He gathered the hem of the flimsy gown.
"Raise your arms."
She did. And the gown was gone.
All that was left was her silky panties. But not for long. He whisked them away, too.
And then he urged her to stretch out again. She lay back down, compliant and brimming all through with a strange, peaceful, utterly perfect desire.
In a distant sort of way, she thought of Cameron. And the bleak experience that making love with him had been. But that all seemed very far away now. And so terribly simple.
Cameron had been the wrong man. That was all. And though her foolish mind had kept trying to tell her that she and Cameron would somehow make things work, her body had refused to be fooled.
"What is going through that mind of yours?" Jack asked.
It didn't even occur to her to dissemble. "I was just thinking that Cameron was the wrong man." She brazenly wrapped her hand around Jack's nape and pulled him closer. "And you're the right one."
His eyes clouded. He opened his mouth to speak.
She shook her head against the pillow. "Shh. No more doubts. No more hesitations, remember? Not tonight."
He lowered his head even closer to hers and nibbled her lower lip. "I remember." He nibbled some more. And then, with a low, hungry moan, he opened his mouth on hers.
Olivia gave a long, delighted sigh as her lips parted. Their tongues played together. And as he kissed her, his hand found her center once more. She lifted her body toward him.
He muttered, "You're ready. I want you. Can't wait." He was kissing a path down her exposed neck to her breast. And then he captured that breast in his mouth and began to suck.
"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted, as sh
e held his head close.
But he would not stay there. He kissed his way down, over her ribs to her quivering belly and then lower still.
Then his lips were there, in her most private place. And she wanted them there. She felt his mouth opening, his tongue delving, and she gave herself up to this most stunning of intimacies.
She felt her body rising, building toward fulfillment once again. And she clutched at his hard shoulders, thinking to pull him up, so he could enter her and join her this time.
But the sensations were too overwhelming. And those intimate kisses went on and on. And the hot flower of her womanhood was blooming again, opening, spreading to encompass the whole world.
Lost to everything but Jack's secret kiss, Olivia tossed her head on the pillows and found her release.
And just when the tremors began to subside, he was rising above her. She moaned and clutched at him. Swiftly, impatiently, he grappled with one of the condoms. And then it was on.
She looked up at him, into his midnight eyes, as he covered her body with his. He positioned himself. Then slowly, inexorably, he found his way home.
Oh, she thought, as her body took him in. She had been empty, empty all this time.
And now, at last, she was filled. With him. She opened wider, he pressed deeper.
"I knew," he muttered on a torn breath. "Yeah. I knew. Like silk, Olivia. You're like silk."
At last he filled her completely. There was no emptiness left. Only him.
And still he held her eyes.
Experimentally, he pulled back. She gave a low cry. And he returned. He did it again, only to come back again.
And soon enough she was pulling back and returning with him. He lowered himself fully upon her. She clutched his broad back and held on tight.
He picked up the rhythm. She followed without missing a single beat. They moved faster and faster, toward a white-hot center of absolute bliss. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him, holding on for dear life and for their mutual ecstasy.
Again fulfillment approached, like a huge wave breaking over her, consuming her, towing her down. She welcomed it, writhing and whimpering like a wild thing.
A HOME FOR THE HUNTER Page 7