Seducing Sullivan

by Julie Elizabeth Leto

  The sun, unhindered by clouds and gleaming strong despite the late afternoon hour, reminded her to slather on sunscreen before she clicked on the CD player and reclined in her cushioned lounge chair. As the inside of her eyelids swirled with neon yellows, oranges and greens, she attempted to stifle the question running rampant through her mind all morning.

  What exactly did Jack want from her?

  She turned up the volume on the music. She hummed. She sang. Badly. Nothing worked. As much as she’d tried to evade the inquiry badgering her brain, she couldn’t. Why had Jack really returned to Florida? A jet-setter like him didn’t relocate his internationally known business to a midsize city far removed from New York or Los Angeles without a reason.

  People changed. He’d told her he had. He’d shown her. Why couldn’t she accept his claim as truth? Was she so afraid of his power over her that she couldn’t acknowledge he simply wanted to be with her—if only for a while? Though she’d tried not to see it, Jack Sullivan the teenager and Jack Sullivan the man were definitely not the same.

  Without doubt, Jack intended his challenge to be much more than a sexual exploration. He made no secret that he wanted a deeper relationship. She’d blown his words off as a line. Yet, on the way back from Orlando, he’d practically told her he intended to fall in love with her. That wasn’t like Jack at all.

  He didn’t believe in love—at least, that’s what he’d told her one night shortly after his mother’s marriage to her fourth husband. At the time, his confession made her determined to change his mind. When he left her standing alone on the prom dance floor, she’d realized how foolish she’d been.

  So why would he change his mind?

  She slid open the top of the cooler and fished out a soda, jumping when an icy drop of water spilled onto her skin. She popped open the top, swallowed a gulp of cola and made a decision. As much as she’d wanted to avoid another intimate confrontation with him, she had to find out where Jack was coming from—and, more important, where he was going. Despite her best efforts, the man simply wouldn’t go away easily. She had to know why.

  He couldn’t know about Dani. Chryssie took the secret of Dani’s father’s identity to her grave. Even Angela wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure about the child’s paternity, and she wouldn’t be until Jack took a genetic test. His results could be compared with the data Dani’s pediatrician gathered during a routine checkup. For this to happen, she’d have to tell Jack of her suspicions.

  The thought inspired chills. No way. She wouldn’t play that hand until Lady Luck deserted her completely. Before Dani came home, Angela had to discover what Jack really wanted from her—above and beyond sex and his intimations about love.

  With the decision made and the sun blanketing her with its steady heat, she drifted into a semiconscious state between catnapping and dozing. Her ears heard the classical CDs she’d chosen, the birds and squirrels playing tag in her overgrown grapefruit tree and the gentle lapping of the pool water as the mechanical filter wheeled along the bottom. She barely heard the sound of the cooler top dropping to the deck floor. The intrusion didn’t register until she heard an aluminum can break free of the packed ice.

  She opened her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  Jack smiled and popped open a soda.

  “You didn’t answer the doorbell. I heard the CD and walked around back. You should get a dog or something.”

  She sat up and wiped the perspiration from her face with her towel, then let the cloth drop onto her chest, covering her from his increasingly appreciative gaze.

  “How did you get my address?”

  Jack slipped his sunglasses on and reclined on the chaise longue beside hers. Despite the weather, he looked confidently cool in his light denim shirt and khaki slacks.

  “Nancy. I told her I had some preliminary photographs to show you from yesterday’s shoot, and when she said you wouldn’t be in until tomorrow, I insisted I drop them off. Is this a problem? Are you secretly married or something? Is the hubby about to discover us?” He attempted to look frightened, but failed. “You’re looking pale for someone who’s spent the afternoon in the sun.”

  He slid his sunglasses down his nose.

  “There’s no husband.” She flicked the towel away and resumed her relaxed position, ignoring her accelerated heartbeat. “You just startled me.”

  “I was hoping I’d be a pleasant surprise,” he said, his grin arrogant.

  “Fat chance.” She rolled the towel into a makeshift pillow and closed her eyes. She needed to talk to him. Now was the perfect time—dammit. Maybe if she closed her eyes really tight and concentrated…

  “I’m not leaving, Angela. You and I need to talk.”

  “No, we don’t,” she insisted, ashamed of herself for not having more courage. She needed time to prepare. “We can talk tomorrow, when we’re in the office. Right now, I’d much rather enjoy my afternoon off.”

  “What we’ll talk about has nothing to do with the office.”

  She could tell by his voice he’d agreed to forestall their discussion. However, his leaving wasn’t part of the deal. She heard him slurp another long sip of cola.

  “You can leave the pictures on the table under the gazebo,” she added, hoping the dismissal would be clear. Even with her eyes closed, she sensed he’d kicked off his deck shoes.

  “I don’t think you want these pictures laying around for the yardman to pick up during his beer break.”

  She sat and turned to face him. “I do the yard myself, thank you. What’s so secret about the pictures, anyway? Did you catch some illegal dumping at Whispering Palms?”

  “Who said all the pictures were from Whispering Palms?” His devilish smile made her shiver, despite the eighty-degree temperature.

  “Jack, those aren’t pictures from…”

  “Leather suits you. It really does.”

  A villainous thrill trickled down her spine. She grabbed for the manila envelope, which he efficiently snatched away and hid behind his back.

  “Fine.” She took a swallow of her sun-warmed soda, then dumped the drink on the nearby grass and shoved the empty can into the cooler. “I don’t want to see them. You can destroy them, for all I care.”

  “My, my,” Jack admonished, unfazed by her temper. “You are more and more hostile by the minute. I think you’re just too hot, angel. I think you need to cool off.”

  Despite her best efforts, her body responded to the seductive look in his eyes and the honeyed tone of his voice. The warmth of the sun mingled with a more intimate heat. As if they each possessed a memory of their own, her nerve endings sprung to life, primed and ready for Jack’s attention. Even her nipples hardened.

  “Jack, I’m not in the mood,” she lied. How could she not be when he looked at her with such open desire? No matter the lack of sincerity in other aspects of their relationship, their mutual hunger proved honest. Unreserved. Undeniable.

  “Really?” He slid onto her chaise and passed his thumb pads over her taut nipples. “You look ready.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” she mumbled, but the words died under the pressure of his lips on hers.

  He kissed her softly, his thumbs still attending to her breasts with rhythmic, swirling circles. When she gasped his name, he slipped his hands down her slick skin, exploring her exposed ribs and slender waist.

  “You’re so hot,” he said.

  “It’s July.” She tried to reason with him despite his nibbling on her earlobe.

  “July or not, I’m going to cool you down.” He slid one hand into her swimsuit bottom. His touch trailed over her curled mound and dipped into the folds of flesh at the base. She immediately pooled, wet and ready.

  She wanted him. Her mind, filled by need, pushed away every fear, every question, every doubt. They were alone. The hedges of her backyard extended up six feet, providing a private haven. A million other reasons existed for Angela to say no, to insist they not travel this path again. She couldn’t think of a s
ingle one. She could only surrender to the concentrated fire spreading through her with every stroke of Jack’s hands and lave of his tongue.

  She unbuttoned his shirt and hungrily ran her hands over his chest, amazed at how familiar he’d become to her. She marveled at the way she knew just how far to spread her fingers until they reached his firm male nipples or how much past his muscled chest lay the tawny hair leading into his waistband. She explored him anew, empowered by his deep-throated groans.

  She heard the rustling of ice but still leaped forward when the chill touched her shoulder.

  “Relax,” he said, “lie back. I told you I’d cool you off.”

  A drop of icy moisture fell down her shoulder toward her breast. Before the bead disappeared in the material of her swimsuit, Jack lapped it up.

  He slipped a cold hand around her neck and undid her top. “We can’t have this in the way.”

  She remained quiescent, her eyes nearly closed, her lips slightly parted, anticipating the next arctic drop.

  Starting at the hollow of her neck, he traced the misshapen cube downward. Her flesh puckered in response to the intense cold, then calmed with each scorching kiss. The contrast between the heat surrounding them, the chill of the ice and the warmth of his tongue on her flesh made thought impossible. She could do nothing but feel.

  When he reached her left breast, he swirled the ice against her nipple until the coldness pursed her skin with the slightest pain.

  She shivered and squirmed, eager to experience the relieving heat of his lips. He waited until her eyes sprang open, then took her full into his mouth and sucked the cold away. Crying out his name, she pushed her hand into his hair, pressing him closer, accepting the breadth of the sensation.

  As he bathed her in heat, he touched the ice to her other breast, waiting until she grabbed his cheeks and forced his mouth to warm her freezing skin. Before she could stop him, he’d taken another sliver of ice from the cooler. This time, he slipped the large piece into his mouth.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  His tilted eyebrows promised erotic delight. She couldn’t help smiling when he slid her suit off and traced the ice up her ankle, across the back of her knee, up her delicate inner thighs.

  His wintry hands guided her legs apart, allowing him full access. The elongated cube, clenched tightly between his teeth, emitted a frosty steam as he hovered above her, allowing a chilly drop to trickle into the sensitive folds.

  “Ooh. That feels so…” Another droplet kissed her with cold. “Good.”

  With the cone-shaped ice, he opened the pleats of flesh, bathing her in dew. His mouth, so near, added the warmth of his breath. When he pushed the ice inside her, she cried out, her mind lost in the shivering. He took the ice in his hand, dipping in and out, in and out, while his tongue lapped the melted moisture.

  When the ice disappeared, he used his fingers, restoring the heat lost from the icy droplets. Nearer and nearer the brink of passion came, but the threshold remained far away—too far to be reached with only this. His hands were no longer enough, his mouth only an appetizer. She needed more. She demanded more.

  Grabbing his shoulders, she forced him to sit up. She unzipped his pants while locked in a kiss and slid his slacks over his hips.

  “I can’t stand this.” His breath came in spurts. “I have to have you. Now.”

  “Yes, Jack, yes. I can’t think. I just know I want you.”

  He stood, taking her with him, struggling to rid himself of his pants while she reached into his boxers. She wrapped her fingers around him, thrilling at the length and thickness of him, wanting to feel him deep inside her. The desire, so ingrained, cut to the surface of her heart. She nearly cried at the pain.

  “Let’s go inside.” He stepped back until her shins touched the chaise.

  “Yes,” she answered, breathless with need and not caring where they made love so long as he didn’t pull away again. “Inside.”

  He wrapped her beach towel around her, draped his slacks, shirt and her swimsuit over his shoulder and lifted Angela into the cradle of his arms. He tucked the manila envelope and his shoes under his elbow.

  His irises darkened with lucid desire. “Point me in the direction of heaven, angel.”

  Bracketing his cheeks with damp palms, she kissed him long and hard, then indicated the door with her foot. Why fight the inevitable? Her body flowed toward Jack like the Mississippi to the gulf. No force of nature could stop that motion any more than her logical mind could keep her from wanting this more than she wanted her next breath.

  They moved into the house without parting lips. Knocking over some books and an acrylic picture frame as they crossed into the back hall toward the bedroom, they laughed and showered each other’s faces in featherlight kisses. The passion cooled to a steady simmer, ready to be stoked to a burning heat in the privacy of her bedroom.

  Jack let her down slowly, allowing her bare legs and towel-wrapped body to slide down every measure of his. He dropped their clothes to the floor, but not before extracting a foil square from his pocket. Unlike their first encounter, where he’d attempted to take it slow but couldn’t, Angela could see Jack was in no hurry. Angela helped him slip on the condom. Images of Harleys and hotel rooms disappeared beneath the promise of his taking her to bed—her bed. If they made it that far.

  She turned and grasped the doorknob to her bedroom. Jack nipped the back of her neck with his teeth. His thick sex pressed against her buttocks. His broad chest brought searing heat to her skin, which prickled in contrast to the brisk air-conditioned breeze pumping from a vent above them.

  Bracing herself on the door, she leaned her forehead against the enameled wood, gasping when Jack’s hands tore away the towel and ravished her. His touch seemed everywhere at once—caressing, probing, tickling, teasing. The more she moaned, the more he explored, the more she wanted to widen her stance and allow him immediate entrance into her body and soul.

  He breathed the words into the back of her neck, reading her thoughts. “Open for me. Trust me.”

  His kisses slid down her back as he bent to one knee, his hands encircling her ankles and guiding her legs apart. His humid breath tickled the curls between her thighs, and she pooled again with a slick natural lotion.

  “I can’t,” she protested, her heart banging against her ribs, her breath panting and quick.

  He suckled the back of her knee. “You taste like candy.”

  His mouth rose to the inside of her thigh. “You smell like hot oil.”

  Fingers plunged into her. She sucked in her breath so hard, her lungs ached. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, fearful she’d draw blood, anticipating the feel of him inside her, here, against the door. She’d treasure every sensation.

  “Let me, angel. Please.”

  He stood, grabbed her hips and pulled her so the tip of his arousal pressed against her throbbing flesh. Even so near, he felt a million miles away. Nothing but inside would be close enough. Nothing but now would be fast enough.

  “Let me in.” He slipped his hand onto her abdomen, rubbing, coaxing lower, parting her moistness for his entrance, driving her past the limits of thought.

  “Yes, Jack, yes.”

  He needed no more. He entered her swiftly, filling her snugly and fully. The ensuing blast of sensation sent her mind tumbling, and her hand slipped down the door, catching on the knob at the last minute. He rescued her from collapsing by bracing her with his knees, pressing them against hers like a bridge and increasing the support with one arm.

  “Damn, I love how tight you are.”

  His oath preceded his second thrust. When he pushed deeper, she didn’t bother to catch the soft scream torn from her throat. Her breath inverted at the same moment he pulled back, and every inch of her responded to the slow, slick slide.

  With his mouth, he loved her shoulders and neck. With his hands, he adored her arms, hips, abdomen and breasts. At any moment, she felt sure she’d faint from the explosive
sensations rushing through her like a tidal wave.

  He pressed into her again, this time delving deeper, groaning from the back of his throat. The ecstasy in the sound injected her with the awareness of her power over him, despite her position. She shifted her weight, found her balance, repositioned her hands on the door and tilted her bottom slightly, knowing when to stop by the trill from his lips.

  “Yeah. Oh, yeah. Angela…”

  She moved again, concentrating on the thickness inside her, how it left no nerve ending untouched or unattended. In moments, they found a rhythm. She threw her head back, groaning when he laved her neck, gasping when he pinched her nipples, screaming when he fanned his fingers into her pulsing folds and played her till she surrendered to orgasmic release.

  She fell forward, her balance steadied by her arms pressed against the door. As her knees buckled, Jack clutched her hips, and she felt him burst with shuddering pleasure.

  Once their tremors subsided, Jack withdrew and twirled her around to erase any lingering regrets with his kiss. He hadn’t intended to make love to her anywhere but in her bed, so certain was he that she’d balk at this unconventional fantasy. Again, she surprised him with her trust and passion. Last night, she’d nearly convinced him she’d never give him the healing he needed. Now his hopes soared. Lifting her like a feather, he opened the door to the bedroom and pushed them inside.

  The bed was all Angela—a four-poster with a thick floral comforter and six fluffy shams atop the queen-size mattress. Sunlight streaked through the drawn, slatted shades, beaming golden shafts where he set her down. He intended to love every inch of skin touched by every ray of light.

  Her skin was flushed from their lovemaking, her eyes half-closed but dark with desire. This time he’d make love to her more sweetly.