by Evie Hunter
‘That’s better.’ Jack tilted her head back until her throat was exposed to him, then he lowered his head and blew a breath against her heated skin. Her knees trembled. He had barely touched her but she wanted more and he knew it.
‘Are you wet for me? Why don’t I slip my hand inside your robe and find out?’
His hand traced a path along her shoulder, parting the robe and exposing her bare skin. He cupped her breasts with his hands before bending his head and taking one nipple in his mouth. The feel of his sucking mouth wasn’t enough. She threaded her hands in his hair, dragging him closer. A low rumble of pleasure emanated from him. He suckled harder, switching from one breast to the other, grazing the tender flesh with his teeth.
‘Oh god,’ she cried out.
Jack released her nipple. His eyes were heavy-lidded with passion. ‘Tell me what you need.’
‘I want to …’
She couldn’t say the word. How could she tell Jack Winter that she wanted him, that she needed him, to fuck her? That she would do anything he asked if he would only put his hands on her? Her voice came in a breathy sigh. ‘Please.’
With deft fingers, he untied the belt and the robe dropped. Jack pushed her back gently until she was sprawled on the bed and he insinuated himself between her parted legs. He pushed one finger inside her and then another. Then he moved them in and out slowly, ignoring her attempts to make him speed up. ‘Don’t move, or I’ll stop.’
Abbie froze. He couldn’t stop now. One glance at his face told her that he would do exactly that. She tensed in the effort to hold herself still. When he removed his fingers and rubbed her clit with her juices, she almost leapt off the bed. Her whole body vibrated with need.
Jack dropped to his knees, using his shoulders to keep her thighs apart. At the first sweep of his tongue on her heated flesh, Abbie clawed at the coverlet, raking her nails against the cotton. His hot mouth laved her lips, making slow circles with his tongue, deliberately ignoring her clit. He circled the opening of her flesh before plunging his tongue inside her, licking and sucking until she gasped with pleasure.
Jack’s attention returned to her clit, laving the little nub in slow torturous strokes that made her cry out. Then his fingers were inside her again, stroking the front wall of her pussy while his mouth sucked hard on her clit. She rocked her pelvis towards him, begging for more, and then she was lost. Pleasure crashed over her in waves, sending tremors throughout her whole body.
Abbie covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her screams. His mouth and hand continued their wicked work, drawing out the last shaky pulses of her orgasm until she lay limp and sated on the bed.
He dropped a kiss on her stomach before rising to his feet. Abbie didn’t have the energy to move.
‘Poor baby. Wore you out, did I?’
She didn’t protest when he helped her back into her robe and tied the belt in a neat bow.
The handle on the door jerked and William’s voice outside in the corridor made her jump. Jack picked up the recorder and opened the door. ‘Hi, Will, just dropped by to bring Abbie her recorder.’ He put it on the side table beside the key cards and left without a backward glance.
William came into the bedroom, laden with shopping bags. ‘Has he been here long?’
Not long enough. She struggled to engage that part of her brain that wasn’t in a post-orgasmic fog. ‘I was ages on the phone to Josh. I was just getting into the shower when he arrived.’
Luckily William had picked up the remote and didn’t notice that her hair was already damp.
‘You go ahead, chipmunk. I’ll watch some TV.’
Abbie closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it. What had she just done? She needed another shower. This time a very cold one.
After her shower she covered herself in moisturizer and pulled on the nightdress that William had bought her. It was white cotton with a high neckline. She grinned at her reflection. Even Miffy had sexier stuff than this, but at least it would cover the marks.
When she emerged from the bathroom, the TV was on in the background, William was stretched out on the bed channel-surfing and wearing a pair of silk pyjamas. A bottle of champagne lay in an ice bucket on the dresser.
There was something wrong with this picture. William was too small, too wiry, too blond. His silk pyjamas looked ridiculous, especially as she knew he wore them to cover a slightly concave chest. She had never minded before, but now she did. Reunion sex was the last thing she wanted.
It was months since she and William had slept together. Neither of them had a particularly high sex drive. They suited each other. Had suited each other. Something had happened to her libido in the jungle. Jack Winter had shaken something loose and she needed to get it back into the box where it belonged.
His smell was wrong. Not bad: William showered twice or three times a day, was religious about brushing and flossing and tongue-scraping, and invested in the most expensive colognes. Just wrong. When she got close to him, her nose wrinkled and she took an instinctive step back. He was perfect for her, but he wasn’t Jack.
He patted the coverlet. ‘I’ve missed you, chipmunk.’
Abbie cringed at the childish nickname, acquired before she had spent her teenage years in braces to cure her overbite. She didn’t need to be reminded of that now. Jack would never call her that. Stop thinking about Jack, he’s gone. But Abbie knew that she couldn’t go straight from Jack’s arms to William’s. Something inside her shuddered at the thought.
She forced a smile. ‘I missed you too, but would you mind if we didn’t? I mean, I haven’t slept properly in days and …’
He was immediately full of concern. ‘Of course, how thoughtless of me. I only wanted to show you that I missed you. Let’s get you tucked into bed.’
Abbie climbed between the sheets. The bed was blissfully comfortable, the pillows were just the way she liked them, but everything was too soft. As she drifted to sleep she imagined that she was swinging in a hammock above the jungle floor and a pair of strong arms were holding her close, protecting her. The faint scent of the orchid followed her into her dreams.
9
The early-morning flight to New York was uneventful. After the heat of the jungle Abbie felt cold. Winter was coming, and not the steely blue-eyed variety. OK, stop thinking about him. When you get to New York you are not allowed to think about him any more.
William snored softly in the seat beside her while she gazed out the window and tried to plan a feature story that did not involve rock-hard biceps, chiselled cheekbones and firm lips. The effort was lost on her libido.
Her heart lifted when she saw the small group waiting for her in the arrivals hall. There was her dad beside Miffy and the girls. Miffy’s twins were holding cardboard signs painted with ‘Welcome Home Abbie’. One of them was decorated with luridly coloured snakes.
The family reunion was interrupted when they were spotted by a pack of reporters who swarmed around them, all shouting questions.
‘Ms Marshall. Abbie. Can you comment on the story in today’s Us Weekly?’
A pudgy reporter shoved a camera into her face, ignoring William’s attempt to protect her. ‘Abbie, do you plan to see Jack again, or was it just some Jungle Heat?’
There was a chorus of sniggers at that one. Abbie’s temper rose. ‘Is there a point to these questions?’
A heavily made-up reporter stepped up, a pseudo-sympathetic expression on her face. ‘Jack’s fans simply want to know if it’s true that you’re an item?’
Taking Abbie’s silence for assent, she pushed on. ‘Four days and nights in the jungle. Tell me, what was it like to share a hammock with Jack Winter?’
Oh dear god, they knew. Everyone knew. Jack had told them. A lump formed in her throat. She could just imagine the amusement on Jack’s face while he related the tale to some fawning interviewer. At the edge of the crowd, Abbie saw Miffy’s mouth purse into an expression of distaste and realized this wasn’t a welcome
home party: it was a damage limitation exercise for the Marshall family.
William tucked her arm into his and Abbie flashed him a grateful glance and cleared her throat. ‘My time in the jungle was an ordeal that I’d rather not repeat. I’m glad to be home with my family. I have nothing more to say.’
Ignoring the shouted questions and the flashing of a barrage of cameras, she pushed her way through the crowd, taking a small, perverse pleasure when she accidently stepped on a reporter’s foot.
Her dad stepped forward, with his arms opened wide, and she ran to him. ‘Oh, Daddy.’
‘It’s over, you’re safe now.’
‘Auntie Abbie, Auntie Abbie.’ The twins jumped up and down, waving their drawings, vying for her attention. ‘We made you pictures.’
Abbie knelt down, ignoring the tears pricking her eyelids. ‘They’re the best drawings I’ve ever seen. Is that a blue snake? Wow, I’m so impressed.’
Miffy gave her a stiff embrace and air-kissed her cheek. ‘I really can’t believe you’ve done this. Jack Winter of all people –’
‘Now, girls.’ Her father’s calm tone silenced Miffy. ‘We can talk about this later.’
The reporters pursued them through the arrivals hall until they escaped into the confines of their cars. Miffy and the girls went home, while William and Abbie were driven into the city by her father. For once, she was glad of the dark tinted windows of her dad’s old-fashioned sedan. William hadn’t said a word since the terminal. A scandal like this would upset his mother, and William would do anything to avoid that.
‘Why don’t you come home for a while?’ her father said.
‘No, Daddy, I’m fine. I have to work tomorrow. This will all blow over in a few days.’
They stopped outside Abbie’s apartment and William got her rucksack from the trunk. ‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked.
William shook his head. ‘I have a faculty meeting this afternoon, but I’ll call you later.’ He dropped a swift kiss on her cheek and then he was gone.
Abbie nodded to the concierge in the lobby. He handed her a sheaf of papers. ‘Good to see you back, Ms Marshall. There are quite a number of messages for you.’
‘Great,’ Abbie said as she saw that the first one was from a researcher from the Letterman show. This was going to get nasty.
After making a pot of coffee, she opened a new document and stared at the blank screen. She had promised Josh a feature on her adventure in the jungle and the paper would be waiting for her to file her copy.
My Jungle Hell with Jack Winter she typed slowly. There, that wasn’t so bad.
Six words down, only another one thousand nine hundred and ninety-four to go. Piece of cake. She got up from the desk and walked to the window to stare at the tree-lined street below. Maybe a run would settle her racing thoughts?
‘No, Abbie, no running.’ Echoing her thoughts, her cell phone rang. It was Josh.
‘Abbie, do I look like an idiot? Every other paper is carrying a story about you and Jack Winter. We need that piece within the hour.’
‘I’m on it.’ She tried to sound cheerful.
She disconnected the call and sat down again. Damn Jack Winter. The sudden flare of anger motivated her. Abbie attacked the keyboard and began to write. It was cathartic – the jungle, the dangerous animals, sleeping outdoors, rescue. The words flowed from her. She detailed Zeke Bryan’s injury, the near miss with the jaguar and all the other discomforts they had experienced. She skipped over the nights she had lain in Jack’s arms and completely ignored the cave. Abbie did a last quick edit and pressed send.
Then she settled down to clear all the e-mails in her inbox. Junk, more requests for interviews; almost all of them were interested in her relationship with Jack Winter. It’s like living in a goldfish bowl, she thought.
William had left a message when she got out of the shower. He had made reservations for dinner at Chez Martin and would meet her there. She wished he had picked somewhere less stuffy. Even the waitstaff looked like models and a tossed salad cost fifty dollars. Reluctantly, she pulled on a little black dress and heels.
The maître d’ brought her to the table, right in the centre of the room. The Dillard name always guaranteed the best seat in the house. William was already waiting and rose when she approached. ‘You look as beautiful as usual, my darling.’
Abbie knew she wasn’t beautiful. When she went to the bother of dressing up and put on full make-up, she was presentable. It was the only time William ever complimented her. With a pang, she remembered how unkempt she had been after her swim in the jungle pool, and the sincerity in Jack’s eyes when he presented her with the orchid and said it was almost as beautiful as she was.
That was over. Jack was part of her past. William was her present and her future. If only the thought wasn’t so depressing. She sat down and the maître d’ fussed over them, shaking her elaborately folded napkin and placing it across her lap, as if she were incapable of doing it for herself.
Their waiter arrived and presented them with leather-bound menus. As usual, her copy contained no prices. It didn’t matter anyway. William insisted on ordering for both of them. She was too tired to argue.
‘The porcini and truffle soufflé sounds divine.’
She smiled stiffly at him. ‘You know I can’t eat mushrooms.’
‘Of course I do.’
But she knew that he hadn’t been thinking of her at all. Food ordered, William then perused the wine list and, following an extended conversation with the sommelier, he turned his attention to her. Abbie cringed when she caught the amused glances from some of the other tables. A few people were whispering and she was sure she caught the word ‘jungle’.
William reached for her hand. ‘I think we need to have a little chat. I’ve spoken to Mother. She wasn’t terribly happy about all of this gossip about you and Jack Winter.’
‘And?’ The idea of William’s mother interfering with their relationship made Abbie’s hackles rise.
‘Well, Mother feels that you got yourself into this situation because of your job, and I tend to agree with her.’ She opened her mouth but he kept going. ‘It’s about time you settled down and gave up all this dangerous trekking about the world. Why, look at Miffy, she has her charity work and the museum thing. You would see much more of her and the girls than you do now.’ William patted her hand. ‘What I’m trying to say, chipmunk, is that it’s about time we got married.’
He gestured to the waiter, who brought a silver tray with two glasses and a bottle of champagne. Her heart sank. She was being mugged by Moët.
William rambled on. ‘Mother wasn’t pleased that I was prepared to forgive you. After all, the Dillard name has never been associated with scandal of any kind. But I believe that if you can show that you’re sorry, she will come around.’
‘Forgive me!’ Abbie choked on the words. The thought of endless suppers for three, with Dolores Dillard looking down her snobbish nose at her, was too awful to contemplate.
William toyed with the stem of his champagne glass. ‘But first, I need you to tell me that you weren’t intimate with him.’
Here it was. The moment of truth. There could be no comforting lies. No pretending that Honduras never happened. William had been her friend since they were children. It had seemed so right at the time to get engaged. Everyone expected it. But even if she could lie to herself, she owed William the truth. He could be a bit uptight, but she was fond of him. She couldn’t go through with the wedding, not while she felt so confused about her feelings for Jack.
‘William, I’m so sorry. I can’t lie to you. Jack and I …’
She couldn’t say the words. She hadn’t actually had sex with Jack, but what had happened felt somehow worse. Trying to ignore the hurt on his crestfallen face, Abbie touched her left hand. She wasn’t wearing his ring. The Dillard family diamond had spent more time in the bank than it had on her finger.
‘I’ll have the bank return the ring tomorrow. I’m sor
ry, William.’
Abbie waited for the flood of guilt, but it didn’t come. She should feel awful. Or broken-hearted. Instead, she felt free. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the waiter approach carrying two plates. She couldn’t possibly sit opposite William and pretend that everything was fine. She grabbed her wrap and fled.
Outside, it was starting to rain. Abbie flagged down a cab. ‘Take me to the nearest liquor store and after that you can drop me in the Village.’
10
Jack had had to fight to stay in one of Standard’s serviced apartments. The studio had wanted to put him into a five-star hotel like the Waldorf where he would be constantly tripping over starlets and reporters. But right now he couldn’t cope with that. He needed time to get his head straight. The jungle, the cave … walking out of that hotel room in Miami, Abbie all over his mouth and his fingers … her smell, her ripe ass, her glistening pussy, the sound she made when she was about to come. It was on a loop in his head and he couldn’t stop it.
He didn’t understand what had changed in Honduras. He’d had some hair-raising adventures before. After a few wild parties it was back to business as usual. This time, all he wanted was privacy to lick his wounds. Although it would help if he knew what his wounds were.
The basic apartment was normally used by travelling film crews. It had two bedrooms with minimal furnishing, a bathroom with a decent shower and a tiny kitchenette. Most important, it was empty and he had it all to himself.
He switched on the widescreen television and, out of habit, flicked to the E! channel. There he was, grungy and matted, smiling at the camera and, yeah – wait for it – suddenly looking shell-shocked and saying that damning ‘No comment’. Hell, he almost believed himself that he had slept with her. Abbie would freak.