by Evie Hunter
It was a scene he had seen countless times over the years. When he broke up with the latest model or starlet Zeke pushed in his direction, Kev was there to console her and assure her that she was desirable and attractive. They made a great double act. But not this time. He and Abbie were not finished. Kev was not having her.
He pushed the door open and headed for their table. A short, round Italian woman with steel-grey hair stood in his path, blocking him. ‘Do you have a reservation, sir?’
It was so long since Jack had needed a reservation that it took him a moment to understand the question. He tried to brush past her, but she moved in front of him. ‘Your reservation, sir?’
‘I’m not eating. I just need to go over there.’ He pointed at Abbie’s table.
‘Miss Marshall’s table? I’ll see if she is expecting guests. Wait here.’
Jack followed her to the table, to be met with twin scowls. ‘What are you doing here?’ Kev asked.
Jack drank in Abbie for a moment before he answered. She had done something to her hair. It was caught up on one side and glittered with health. Her mouth was wide, red and alluring. Oh, the things he yearned to do to that mouth. Her eyes snapped up at him, and every annoyed breath caused her breasts to swell. The thin silk of her blouse was modest enough, he supposed, but on Abbie, it was an invitation to sin.
Kev was sitting too close to her in a quiet booth of the aromatic little restaurant – sitting at such an angle that he could look right down Abbie’s blouse.
‘I’ve come to join you,’ he told Abbie. ‘After all, I figured you were talking about me, so I might as well give you the inside information.’
He was delighted to see a deep flush on Abbie’s cheeks. She had been talking about him. She shot him a look that would melt iron. ‘Well, I see that the ego has landed.’
Kev glared at him. ‘Yes, go away, Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Jack wanted to sit beside Abbie, but the determined Italian blocked his path, so he slid in beside Kev. ‘No, I’m good. I haven’t eaten anyway, I’ll join you.’
Abbie was speechless. The Italian maître d’ looked to her for confirmation that she should bring another menu. She was too shocked to do anything but nod.
She and Kevin had just ordered. They had water and a glass of wine each, but no food yet. Jack had timed his arrival well to make sure they didn’t get past the small talk.
He turned to her. ‘So, have you recovered from your time in the jungle?’
She nodded. She wondered when she was going to recover the power of speech.
‘Did Zeke replace that bra of yours? Gotta say, I loved watching you without it.’
Her fingers were trembling as she picked up her water glass. She sipped slowly, hoping to buy enough time to calm her nerves.
‘I’ll ignore that, and try to pretend that we’re all polite adults,’ she said finally.
She hated scenes and this had all the makings of a very big scene. Jack had a nasty smile on his face and Kevin looked furious.
‘So, Kev, didn’t you say you had somewhere to be?’
‘Yes, I did. Right here, having dinner with Abbie. Go away, Jack, you’re being a prick.’
‘I thought we discussed this in the gym?’
Kevin fished a sliver of ice out of his water and held it up. It obviously meant something to them.
‘So we did,’ Kevin said. ‘If you want more ice, just tell me. Until then, go away.’
‘Let’s ask the lady what she wants. I bet she wants me to stay, don’t you, Abbie?’
She wanted Jack all right – she was wet just looking at him – but she was also mad as hell. Who did he think he was?
‘Right now, I’m tempted to tell both of you to go away. Kevin at least had the manners to invite me out for a meal, instead of just barging in and interrupting a perfectly nice dinner.’
He picked up her hand where it grasped the water glass, felt her pulse and looked into her eyes. ‘You don’t want a man with manners. You want someone who will let you walk on the wild side, who knows what you’re really like.’
She pulled her hand back. ‘You have no idea what I am really like,’ she said, sounding prim even to her own ears.
‘I know you like wearing pink silk panties,’ he said.
It felt like her entire body blushed. How did he know that? Oh god – no! Oh god – it couldn’t be.
‘You’re D?’ she said incredulously. ‘You’ve been stringing me along all this time.’
Jack shrugged.
She felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Time seemed to stand still. Jack just looked back at her, expressionless. Kevin was looking from her to Jack and back again.
She picked up the jug of water, poured it over Jack and then grabbed her bag and dashed out of the restaurant. He caught up with her before she got to the end of the block.
‘Abbie, wait,’ he said, reaching out to touch her arm.
She whirled and she barely recognized her own voice as she shouted at him.
‘Don’t touch me. You’re a lying bastard and I want nothing to do with you.’
‘And you’re the one who’s just soaked me.’
He did look a mess, as far as Jack Winter could ever look a mess. She felt a brief moment of satisfaction.
‘I did, didn’t I? And I’ll do it again if you annoy me.’
‘First we talk.’ He refused to let her get away from him and held her wrist as they turned into the entrance of her building.
‘You’re not coming up with me,’ she said.
‘You owe me a towel at least.’
The concierge was busy helping an elderly woman in a wheelchair, so she couldn’t get him involved. And there was no other option. She’d just have to let him up to dry off.
As soon as the elevator door shut behind them, he grabbed her, hauled her against him and slammed his mouth down on hers. No, no, no – it wasn’t going to be that way. For a second, she defied him, pressing her mouth shut.
He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, demanding entry. She held out for as long as she could and then it was over. She had to have him. She kissed him back, just as ravenously. He tightened his arms around her. His tongue and his lips feasted on her. She arched against his long, beautiful body, her fingertips digging into his shoulders.
They were lost in each other when the elevator jerked to a halt and the doors opened. Jack seemed oblivious. Then he raised his head a bare half-inch from her mouth. ‘What number?’
She was dazed from his kiss, her mouth soft and slightly bruised. She had to think for a moment. What was her number? ‘Four-two-three.’
Her hands shook when they got to the door so he took the key from her hands and put it into the lock. As soon as they were inside and the door closed, he grabbed her again.
This time the kiss was open-mouthed and voracious. Jack fisted his hand into her hair, holding her still so that he could devour her. Abbie fought to put her arm up around his neck so she could pull him closer. Her lips sought his and matched him move for move. One of her hands was trapped between their bodies and she shoved it in between the buttons of his shirt so she could touch his skin.
He dropped one hand to her ass, caressing and kneading it, forcing her to feel his erection. She rose on tiptoe and rocked.
‘Oh god, Abbie,’ he said, before burying his face in her neck. He sucked it, then pressed open-mouthed kisses against it, as if to soothe the small hurt. He was marking her, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to mark her.
Abbie felt like she was on fire. She shoved her hands up through his hair, tugging him back to her mouth. When she had him where she wanted him, she yanked his shirt out of his trousers and pushed her hands up under it. Her hands slid up his back and then round to the front, tangling in the springy hair on his chest.
He nipped at the spot under her ear and she moaned, tipping her head to offer him that vulnerable point again. He obliged, harder this time, and she moaned again.
<
br /> She could feel his erection jerking. She had to touch it. She slid her hand down to his zip but before she could do anything he shoved his hands up under her silk blouse and caressed her skin. Then he dropped his hands and pulled at her skirt.
‘You didn’t tell me about these,’ he said suddenly.
Abbie had no idea what he was talking about. She was just hypnotized by his mouth.
‘No pantyhose,’ he said. ‘Horrible stuff.’
He tugged and she heard them tear. He continued to rip them from her. The sound of the tearing was electrifying. She wanted him to tear everything off her body. She wanted to feel him all over her.
Suddenly he stopped and looked around. They were in her sitting room, which was large and sparsely furnished. He pulled her over to the end of the couch.
‘Bend over. Hold on to that cushion, don’t move your hands.’ He eased her into position as he spoke.
‘What are you doing?’ she said.
‘Eyes front.’ He was back in control now. She could barely imagine the picture she made. Her pantyhose were in ribbons but she was still in a pair of heels that forced her ass up in the air. Moving slowly, he took his time, easing the skirt up until it was around her waist, leaving her bare except for the pink panties.
Jack moved in closer, so that he was standing almost between her feet, and tapped them. ‘Wider.’ Obediently she shuffled her feet apart. He did it again. ‘More.’ She struggled to move them another few inches and still stay in position.
‘Good girl.’ He caressed her ass, and then with a ruthless jerk, tore the panties off her. ‘I’ll buy you more.’
She heard the tear of a condom wrapper and then felt him fall on her. The first lunge was mind-blowing. He possessed her so completely, it was like nothing she had ever known before. Her nerve endings felt as if they would melt under so much pleasure. She let out a shuddering cry that seemed to make Jack hesitate. She pushed back, silently begging for more. He thrust into her again, holding her hips, controlling the tempo. He wouldn’t let her rush ahead as she wanted.
All she could think was that this was what she longed for, what she needed. She begged him to keep going.
He raked his nails along her back and she groaned. When he pinched her nipple through her silky lace bra, she gasped and reared up.
‘Stay in position,’ he growled. ‘Hold the cushion.’
Obediently, she dropped back but her grip on the cushion was so tight it threatened to tear it apart.
‘Yes, Sir,’ she said.
That was what it took to get what she craved so desperately. Jack couldn’t resist speeding up, lunging into her faster and harder. He drove into her again and again and she rose to meet him.
‘More, please,’ she cried.
That was the end. Jack hammered into her, without finesse or skill, but she was too far gone to care. With a wail that could be heard in the street, she came.
18
Oh dear god, what just happened? Abbie’s fingers clutched at a handful of feathers from the burst cushion. Jack’s warm body lay on top of hers. He was still inside her, still breathing heavily. He dropped a light kiss on her shoulder.
‘You OK, Abbie?’
‘Yes … I …’ She had actually done it. Made love with Jack.
She felt a sense of loss as he withdrew from her and stood up. ‘Let’s get you into bed,’ he said.
‘No.’ Ouch, she hadn’t meant to sound whiny. He would think that she was one of those needy women who would beg him to stay for the night.
Jack picked her up and set her on her feet. He pulled her against his chest, using one hand to tilt her head back. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No, you didn’t hurt me.’
‘Would you like me to?’ A wicked grin dispelled his serious expression. Abbie remembered the cave in the jungle, the slap of his hand against her tender flesh. The sudden heat of impact.
‘Do you know that your pupils have just dilated?’ Jack gave a low laugh. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
He bent and hooked his arm under her knees, lifting her against a wall of solid muscle. ‘Bedroom?’
‘Through there.’ She pointed.
He deposited her on the bed, and before she could ask, he closed the curtains and turned on the bedside lamp. His hot stare made her tremble and Abbie moved her hand to cover herself.
‘Don’t.’ The word was a command rather than a request. She felt like a rabbit in the headlights as his eyes raked her from head to foot.
She had no idea where her torn panties were, two buttons were missing from her silk blouse and her smart skirt was a mass of creases. And somehow she was still wearing her new heels, the ones Miffy had made her buy.
‘I like these,’ Jack said, his voice gravelly. ‘There’s something about a woman in heels. I think we’ll leave these on.’
His fingers moved slowly along her instep, until they encountered a snag where he had ripped her pantyhose. ‘These, however, have to go.’
Her skirt and blouse followed the shredded pantyhose on to the floor.
‘Now, this is pretty.’ Jack paused when he reached her lacy brassiere, brushing his index finger across her lace-covered nipples. Just that light touch sent a shot of pleasure through her. She moaned and arched up into his touch.
‘Does it make you feel sexy to wear something like this, Abbie?’
‘I –’ Oh god, her brain had turned to mush and if he didn’t stop touching her she was going to melt.
‘Answer me.’ His tone took on a sharp edge that sent a shiver down her spine.
‘Yes, it does.’
‘Good girl.’ His lips slowly circled one nipple and then he sucked hard on it.
The sensation was delicious – hovering on the edge between ecstasy and pain. Jack released her, unclipped the bra and tossed it with her other clothes.
‘You’re beautiful.’
She didn’t feel the least bit beautiful. She was naked, vulnerable, wearing nothing but a pair of dark-red Miu Miu shoes. Jack was still fully clothed. Her hand crept across her breast to cover herself.
Her action earned her a sharp tap on the hip from Jack. ‘Hands above your head, Abbie, and keep them there.’
The edge of danger in his tone made her comply. ‘What happened to your palms?’
‘I fell,’ she admitted. ‘I hurt my knees too.’
Jack kissed each palm. ‘I’ll kiss your other injuries later.’ Then his hand tilted her head back, his thumb stroked the edge of her jaw. ‘Look at me, Abbie.’
She blinked and swallowed hard under his intent gaze.
‘For tonight, you’re mine.’
Releasing her jaw, he trailed his hand over her chest, cupping her breast, taking a slow path over her abdomen before pausing to cup her mound. One broad finger pushed inside her and Abbie took a sharp breath.
A second finger joined the first and his thumb brushed against her clit.
Abbie arched against him, seeking more pressure. She was so sensitized to his touch from their earlier encounter, it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge again.
‘Bad girl.’ Jack withdrew his fingers and pressed them to his mouth. ‘Hot, sweet little Abbie, I can see that you’re going to need a lesson about who’s in charge here.’
Jack left Abbie and went to find her kitchen. He had almost laughed at her expression when he asked her where it was. Finally, he had Abbie where he wanted her and where he knew she wanted to be. They had the whole night and he was going to make her see fireworks. Before that, she had to eat.
As he moved around her kitchen, he thought that Abbie had surpassed his expectations in every way. If that’s what it was like the first time they made love, he could barely imagine what could happen between them. He had been astonished and even more aroused than he thought possible by the fragility of her skin – so pale and soft. It was an invitation for him to do his worst to her. And that luscious backside that had haunted his dreams for two weeks, he wanted to touch it more t
han he wanted his next breath. Those green eyes that flashed with desire. He wanted to see what else he could make those eyes do.
He had fought the dark impulses that wanted to strip her naked, tie her up and mark her as his. But her cry of ‘More, please’ was an aphrodisiac that would have aroused a statue of a saint, and god knew he was no saint. She had been so hot and wet, her softness contrasting with her strength as she pushed back to meet him, and when he felt her delicate inner muscles holding him like a fist, driving him over the edge, he had been lost in ecstasy. If that was vanilla sex with Abbie, he didn’t dare dream what would happen when they went darker.
After about fifteen minutes, he was ready. Two glasses of wine from a bottle in her empty fridge. And a plate of French toast for her.
When he got back to the bedroom she was sitting up, curious.
‘I seem to remember that I made you miss dinner,’ he said.
Abbie giggled. ‘I haven’t forgiven you for that yet. Do you know how hard it is to get a reservation for Mamma D’Inzeo on a Saturday night?’
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ he said. ‘But first, we need to have a discussion about your refrigerator.’
‘What’s wrong with my refrigerator?’
‘There isn’t enough food in it to keep a sparrow alive and I hate skinny women.’
‘You want to feed me?’
The thought seemed to make her giddy. ‘So, what delights have you conjured up?’
‘I thought that madame might like some French toast with maple syrup to keep her strength up.’
Abbie reached for the fork.
‘Ah ah, no touching the food. No hands. I want to feed you.’ He cut a piece and pressed it to her lips.
‘What’s that flavour?’ she mumbled, as she chewed.
That’s what he liked to see – a woman too busy eating to worry about manners.
‘Vanilla, for my vanilla girl,’ he said, grinning, and pressed another mouthful to her lips.
Abbie swallowed it quickly. ‘I am not vanilla.’
‘Aren’t you?’ he said.
They held each other’s gaze, both realizing the deal that was being negotiated.
Abbie spoke hesitantly. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. ‘What if I wanted to try other flavours? What if I was willing to taste something else?’