The heat did not disappear from his eyes but she recognized the cool look of assessment. “You want me.”
There wasn’t any point in denying it. Pickett nodded.
“But the dinner is important to you. Why?” Funny how he could make a request for information sound like a command.
“I don’t know exactly. I guess I’m not willing to be just a convenience to you. A quick stop at a service station along the road of life.”
Jax’s eyes suddenly gleamed with humor. “That metaphor needs some work in terms of who puts what where.”
Pickett thought about it and giggled. Lord, she loved his quick grasp of things. She even liked how he pushed her, didn’t make it easy for her. So his next words surprised her.
“If it’s important to you, then it’s important. What’s the name of the fanciest restaurant in Wilmington? I’ll make reservations for tomorrow night.” He stood with the fluid movement so characteristic of him and pulled her to her feet and into his arms in one movement. “Now I am going to kiss you.”
And he did. Just how much he had been holding back was suddenly abundantly clear. He held her so that she was pressed full length against him. One hand cradled and controlled her head while the other scooped up her bottom to press her mound hotly against his erection. The difference in their strengths had never been so apparent as when he held her off the floor with one hand while moving with blatant intent against her.
He covered her face with kisses, biting at her lips then thrusting his tongue into her mouth in time with the movement of his hips.
He tasted like beer and hot, dark masculinity and determination.
Pickett used her arms to pull herself closer, to ease the sudden need to rub her breasts against the solid wall of his chest.
The fingers of the hand cupping her bottom slid along the cleft, increasing both sensation and need with a jolt that stiffened Pickett with surprise. A second later she would have pressed herself more deeply against the hand, but he was already ending the kiss, sliding her body down his, but putting off letting her go till the last possible second.
He steadied her with one hand on either hip until she found her balance, then rested his cheek against her hair, as he fought to bring his ragged breathing under control. Abruptly he stepped away and rubbed his hair in a short, sharp gesture. “There. Now you know how I’ve felt for the last four damn days.”
Inexperienced or not, Pickett knew that seconds more of that searing kiss and she would have been in bed, on the couch, on the floor, whatever it took to answer the need that flowed between them like a living entity with a will of its own. He had started the kiss and he had ended it. It was with a poignant sense of loss that she acknowledged that he had done what she’d said she wanted.
If she took him in her arms now, what would happen? No, the same doubts were there. She took refuge, as she often did, in attending to the needs of others.
“When you go upstairs to take Tyler to the bathroom, make sure you send Lucy to me.”
“I’m going to get him up to go to the bathroom?” She tasted like grapes and smelled like violets, and aroused woman, and her lips were swollen and red from his kisses, but there was no doubt, Bossy was back. She retreated into bossiness to set her world back in order after he’d rocked it. The sudden insight made him smile and kick up one straight eyebrow.
“Yes.” She gave him a stern look that was belied by the dimple at the corner of her mouth. “That is your job and not mine. No really, think how bad he would feel if he wet his new bed the first night he slept in it. And I’m afraid if he did wake up, he wouldn’t know where he was and it would scare him. So go get him.”
Jax pulled up the pajama bottoms of his sleepy son and flushed the toilet. Sure enough, when he stood at the toilet, he had obligingly used it even though he hadn’t really woken up. He lifted the soft little body to his shoulder and climbed the stairs.
He’d read in that book about getting children up in the night, but he’d forgotten. There seemed to be a lot to this fatherhood business. But Pickett knew Tyler would need to go. And she remembered because she’d thought of Tyler’s feelings, not because she was worried about the sheets.
He shifted the limp weight of his son higher up his chest and felt Tyler nestle into him. Tyler did this when he was a baby, so trusting, as if his father’s arms were the best place in the world.
With a pang, Jax realized he couldn’t remember carrying a sleeping Tyler since he was a baby. Once it was time for Tyler to sleep, it had been time for Jax to leave, or to take him back to his mother’s.
Being with Tyler all day and all night without the hovering, nervous presence of his mother, or that bitch of a grandmother, was a revelation. His kid was funny, bright, inquisitive, and, once he was allowed to forget about the designer clothes, all boy.
He placed Tyler in the center of the wide bed and drew up the sheet. It was still amazingly warm for the middle of October, but at least it had been possible to turn off the air conditioning and open the windows. A breeze was coming in and the room would be cool by morning. He pulled up the soft blanket and tucked it around his son as well.
As he turned toward the door Pickett’s voice floated up the stairs. “No, Lucy. You cannot sleep with Tyler. I know you want to, but the answer is no.” She was talking to the dogs. He smiled to himself. Just like she thought they would understand every word.
He went to the top of the stairs. “Would it be all right for Lucy to sleep with Tyler? I was thinking about what you said. He might be afraid if he woke up in the night. Having Lucy would help.”
A little vertical crease appeared between her brows. Had he transgressed into Boss territory?
“Tyler looks so little lying in that big bed,” Jax added.
Her expression was serious but she let go of the straining dog’s collar. “Okay, Lucy. Go to Tyler.”
Toes scrabbling for purchase, ears flying, the small mixed breed raced up the stairs.
“Thank you.”
Pickett nodded in acknowledgment. “Good night.”
TWENTY
Pickett bent to turn off the one lamp they had turned on earlier, plunging the room into darkness.
Through the connecting door Jax could see the flood of moonlight spilling into Pickett’s bedroom.
In a minute he would go in there alone and she would go to the daybed in the therapy room.
Every instinct he had said that would be wrong.
He had come here knowing he was attracted to her and knowing he wouldn’t act on the attraction. Every reason was still valid. He needed to stay focused on Tyler. His place in the SEALs depended on his getting Tyler squared away and doing it right. And it wasn’t going to be as easy as he had thought. Tyler’s grandmother might have physical custody, but he knew now he would insist on new agreements about visitation. That meant calls to his lawyer and maybe trips to Raleigh to negotiate with Lauren. It was more important than ever that he stay focused on his objectives.
Even if he could afford to get involved with a woman right now, he should stay away from Pickett. Damn it, that wary look she had every time he got too close said she wasn’t the kind of woman who would take sex lightly. She would have expectations and a whole list of demands. Taking her to dinner would just be the start of what she would want from him.
He wanted her. He was still half-aroused from their kisses earlier. He shouldn’t get distracted by his dick. But God, he wanted her.
He wouldn’t be able to sleep in that room tantalized by her womanly scent, a ghost of her in bed with him when he wanted hot flesh. He would spend the night prowling the house like a lion whose prey stays just out of reach.
“Pickett.”
Pickett. Just the one word, her name, almost whispered, gravelly with desire, harsh with entreaty.
Pickett halted. She’d never heard a man’s voice sound like that before; every cell in her body recognized its meaning.
She turned around. The plantation blinds in her be
droom had been left open and she could see the half moon just clearing the trees. Jax was a dark figure silhouetted in the doorway, one hand outstretched. Every line of his body spoke of focused intent.
Pickett’s heart kicked over at the thought of that much potent masculinity calling to her. Wondered if she could do this. Knew she was going to.
She hadn’t left. She turned around. He crossed to her in two long-legged strides. He wanted to crush her to him, to plunder her mouth, rouse her until she longed for the mating of their flesh as much as he did. But the stillness of her figure warned him he couldn’t be sure of her yet.
Though his night vision was better than most, he couldn’t see the expression in her eyes. Was it her wary look? He hated for her to be wary of him. He wanted her yielded, soft with desire. He wanted her to look at him hopeful of ecstasy, not with wariness.
He took her hand. “Come to bed with me.” Damn. His voice sounded more like a croak than a croon. Where was the low, seductive tone that always worked so well in the past?
He kissed her knuckles and tried again. “I want you so much. I said I’d take you to dinner, and I will, I promise.” He rubbed her soft, slightly cool fingers against his cheek, across his brow. “But let me have you tonight.”
Jax stopped rubbing her hand across his hair then felt her fingers continue the caress. Had she said yes?
“Did you say yes?”
“Yes.”
The feeling of relief and exaltation was dizzying, but it was followed instantly by the cold duty he had to face. He was getting ready to break the twenty-four-hour rule: never hang around a woman’s place more than twenty-four hours after making love. If you do, she’ll believe you’re there to stay. He had to make sure Pickett understood.
Over the voice in his head clamoring for him to shut up, don’t do it, don’t mess up now, she said yes, you idiot, don’t try to change her mind, he said, “You know this doesn’t … won’t mean… . anything, don’t you?”
Oh shit, he had said it. And now she had stopped stroking his hair and was resting that hand on his chest. Was she going to push him away? Quickly he circled her with his arms. Now that he’d made her hesitate, what could he say to get her back?
The thing was, it wasn’t about the twenty-four-hour rule. He wanted to avoid scenes and tearful recriminations as much as the next man, but even more, he didn’t want Pickett to get hurt. She hadn’t been anything but generous to him, and kind to Tyler. She didn’t deserve for him to be careless with her feelings.
“You’re special. You’re not a convenience store on the roadside of life or whatever you said. But, you know I won’t be staying, don’t you? Not more than a couple more days.”
That wouldn’t be long enough.
“Or a week.”
But it might take longer to get a new agreement finalized. He firmly pushed away the hopefulness of that thought.
“Two weeks at the absolute outside, and that’s all there is. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“And you’ll be all right with that?”
For an answer she pulled his mouth down to hers.
That cold, tight thing that had been twisting in his gut since the moment she reached for the lamp switch relaxed. Warmth spread instead.
Just before she reached for him, her heart pounding with the enormity of her action, Pickett considered telling Jax that the only thing that made this possible was the fact that it was temporary.
He was offering her the perfect compromise between casual sex and a meaningful relationship.
But if they kept talking, they might not ever get started, and she knew her willingness to seize the moment would only last so long.
He scooped her into his arms. He actually did! And it really was as thrilling and romantic as scenes depicted on the covers of romance novels. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, nosing aside the collar of the blue polo shirt to inhale the rich enticement of his warm masculine scent.
Still with her in his arms he closed the blinds and turned on a bedside lamp. Only then did he let her slide down his body to her feet.
Her body-hugging T-shirt had mostly pulled free of her jeans when he carried her, and with only a couple of tugs his hands were molding the silky skin of her midriff. When he tried to pull the shirt over her head she resisted, however, burying her nose against his breastbone.
“Shy?”
There was a jerky nod against his chest. He chuckled softly. She moved with such confidence most of the time. A tender amusement filled him.
“Is it the light? Do you want it off?”
Another little jerky nod.
“I’ll turn it off if you want me to.” He folded her in his arms and rocked her gently. “But I really want to see you. Won’t you let me see you, sweetheart?”
A soft shoulder moved in a diffident shrug.
“Don’t you know I’m going to like what I see?”
The shoulder hitched in another shrug as if to say, “Tell me more.”
Jax almost laughed aloud. He would have, except for the rush of protectiveness that suddenly made his eyes a little wet. “I’ve wanted to see you, every single inch of you, since you stood on the cottage deck and watched me and Tyler.”
“I wasn’t sure you knew that was me.” She hadn’t raised her head but her hands were tracing the long muscles of his back.
“Oh, yeah. You were a marked woman from that moment on.” Her ribcage shook in a soundless giggle. He stroked her back and used the motion to flip the catch of her bra. He wanted her with an intensity he couldn’t remember having felt in years, and in that moment he knew nothing would satisfy him but having her give herself to him.
If he could sit motionless under camouflage for hours, ignoring ants crawling over him, letting his quarry come to him, he could hold off his cravings long enough to let her come to him.
“You make me think of a peach, all golden pink. And ripe and fragrant. I want to see all your colors, and bite into the places that are blushing red, and fill my mouth with your juices.” He nibbled kisses down her neck then nipped the junction between neck and shoulder. A shiver ran through her.
Pickett raised her eyes to him, as if searching his face for clues about his sincerity.
“And your eyes. Your eyes change color like the ocean. I want to look in your eyes when I’m inside you and watch you when I make you come.”
He insinuated a hand between their bodies and covered her breast, feeling fierce triumph as the nipple beaded against his hand. He stroked the little bud and felt it tighten further. In a moment she raised both arms to his shoulders and he drew the shirt over her head, pulling the bra with it.
He tossed the shirt across the room with one hand while the other sought the button at her waist.
Pickett felt his rough hands brush her jeans from her hips. His frank sensuality was both arousing and a little shocking. She guessed a little disorientation was to be expected when a wildest dream sort of fantasy started turning into reality. She remembered with perfect clarity watching him on the beach and being transfixed by his masculine beauty. How impossible it had seemed that he might even look at her, much less find her desirable. And yet he had fantasized about her too.
His hands found the cleft of her buttocks, one long finger stoking, barely touching, back to front, front to back. It wasn’t nearly enough, and yet waiting for the moment when his touch would whisper across her most sensitive flesh was riveting.
She felt his fingers encounter moisture and begin spreading it. She wished the wetness weren’t necessary. It seemed to add to the general untidiness of the whole process. And she could smell her arousal too.
He made a small sound of satisfaction. “You’re already getting wet for me. Do you know what a turn-on that is?”
He liked it. Pickett knew a lot about sex from a clinical standpoint, but she had never considered that a man might enjoy the experience of arousing her. That he might find her wetness thrilling—not messiness
to be put up with—got through to her. There was that disorientation again. As if she could feel his pleasure in her pleasure.
Would she be able to feel him receive pleasure? She had been wanting to run her hands across his chest maybe forever. Quickly she slid her hands under the soft knit of his shirt to the warm, smooth skin beneath. Suddenly, it wouldn’t do—wouldn’t do at all—that his skin, all his skin was not accessible to her. She had to rub her breasts against him. Feel his buttocks in her hands.
She pulled at his shirt. “Off! Get this off now!”
He obliged one-handed while somehow hardly stopping that wonderful thing he was doing with the other hand between her legs.
She found the waistband of his shorts. Where was the damn button? Everything felt backwards. She gave a grunt of frustration and jerked hard at the resisting material. “Do something! I want to feel you.”
Jax lifted her face to his. His crystal gray eyes with their short spiky lashes were narrowed in a smile that touched only his eyes, and seemed to come from his soul. For a long, timeless moment he searched her face and, seeming to have found something, lowered his mouth to hers.
Jax tried to tell himself he had to take it slow. He was no longer afraid he would spook her, but he still had to make sure he gave her plenty of time. He hadn’t been with a woman this inexperienced since he’d had very little experience himself. He liked his sex hot, hard, and physical. In another woman her tentative touches and shy fumbling would have spoiled the fun of the hearty game of forgetfulness that he sought.
Instead it was like she gave him her newness, and made sex something new for him too. And somehow that made him hungrier than ever.
It was a kiss of hunger and of claiming. It was a kiss that said now. Now we begin.
He dropped his shorts to the floor and stepped out of them, then pushed Pickett’s jeans, together with her panties, down her legs. He spared only a moment’s regret that he wouldn’t get to see her in the filmy scraps. Oh well, another time, and he already knew there would be other times.
Mary Margret Daughtridge SEALed Bundle Page 17