* * *
BUT HE HAD. Pulling up to the house, he saw her car, and had no idea what was going on, or why Raine had left the vague message on his phone. But he had listened to it twice, just to hear her voice more than anything else. It had only been a day, but he missed her like hell. He frowned; why didn’t she answer the door? Pushing the door open, he only heard silence, and apprehension clutched at him as he turned the knob.
“Raine…where are you?”
He stopped for a moment, surprised, and then caught his breath and grinned like only a man can when he realized what was going on. Lowered lights, candles, champagne—oh, yeah. He locked the door securely behind him and followed the candle-lit path up the stairs to his room, where the door was partially open, and soft lights blinked out into the hall.
He stopped dead in the doorway, losing his breath completely in the wash of stunned desire that swept over him when he saw her. She was laid out on a green blanket under a Christmas tree. The scrap of red lace that barely covered her gorgeous body turned his mouth dry in seconds. The room was dark except for the blinking tree lights that played over her skin. She tilted her head provocatively, bending one leg up at the knee, tempting his eyes to follow the movement, and smiled at him.
He moved into the room, staring at her, his eyes dark with desire, his voice choked.
“Raine…what…? You look…amazing. But…”
“I’m your Christmas present—I hope you like it. I know it’s a few days early, but I couldn’t wait to…give it to you.”
Jack stood over her, felt himself go hard in a flash, and regarded her silently, unsure of what to say. So he just lowered himself to the floor next to her, leaned over and touched his mouth to hers.
He had so much to say, was feeling too much, it all logjammed in his chest. He’d been furious with hurt, but that quickly melted away into desire. He’d meant just to give her a hello kiss, but his soul caught fire just from the scent of her, and the kiss became more demanding. She pulled away, and he groaned, almost falling over to follow her, needing more.
“Uh-uh—you have to open your present first.”
“But you are my present.”
She smiled, all nervousness gone as she read the pleasure in his eyes, and she let herself absorb the peculiar but wonderful sensation of female control and power. She pushed herself up slowly onto hands and knees, letting him have a full view of her breasts and behind as she leaned over to reach for the box under the tree.
She handed him the box, smiling seductively when she noticed his erection straining against his pants; reaching down, touching him there for just a moment, lightly, her eyes lit with need and mirth.
“Wow, and you don’t even know what’s in the box yet.”
He growled and reached for her, wanting only to tear off her wrapping and enjoy the gift of her hot, sweet body, but she leaned back, and gestured to the box.
“You have to open this first. I have to see if you like it. Then we’ll go from there.”
Jack’s hands trembled as he took the box and ripped through the wrapping paper, thinking only that he knew he would love whatever it was—a watch, a tie, socks, for God’s sake—anything—he didn’t care as long as when he was done he could go play with Raine under the tree.
His body was aching for hers—it had been so long. He lifted the top and wrinkled his forehead as he found the box empty except for a small piece of red stationery in the bottom. He reached down, lifting the paper and unfolding it. He read it to himself, and found emotions clogging in his throat. For moments on end, all he could do was stare at the paper.
This gift entitles the recipient to all the love I have to give. There’s more than I could fit in this box, as there is more than I could ever fit in my heart. I love you, Jack.
Merry Christmas,
Raine
Raine thought she would die a thousand more deaths if he didn’t say something soon: he was still, staring at the note, and she felt as if she would pass out if he didn’t just say something. Then he looked up, and her breath caught. His eyes glowed with raw emotion, and he set the box and the note carefully aside.
Getting up on his knees, bringing them face-to-face, he drew her into a long, deep, drugging kiss. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes, and felt his world fall into place.
“Rainey—I love you.... This is the best gift I have ever had, the best I will ever have. Tell me, though, I want to hear you say it.”
She wasn’t embarrassed when her eyes swam with tears, and she hugged him tightly to her, telling him over and over and over, until they were both laughing with sheer joy. She drew back, her face glowing with happiness as she looked into his.
“But that isn’t all of it.”
His eyes went opaque with desire, and he looked at her hungrily.
“I was hoping not.”
“Let’s get you out of these.”
Enjoying her new sense of confidence and control, he let her undress him, only helping minimally, until he sat completely nude and aroused before her. Her breath was shallow, and he raised his hand to cover her breast and pinch her distended nipple through the lace, tugging her down next to him when she moaned.
Love made need multiply exponentially, and Raine gasped when she heard the lace rip. His hands raced hungrily over her skin, touching her everywhere, his mouth capturing hers, kissing her deeply, plundering her while his fingers did the same. She came suddenly in helpless waves as she wrenched against him, moaning into his mouth. She was his, and she gave herself freely. Her hand stroked his cock as she recovered, and he gently pushed her back to the blanket, beginning to position himself over her, when she planted a hand on his chest.
“Let me love you, Jack. Let me take you.”
Jack sat back, praying to the universe for control beyond what a mortal man could possibly be expected to have. He laid back on the blanket, and watched her, smiling, her eyes hot and confident, her lush body flushed with the pleasure he had just given her. And wanted to again.
He heard himself curse hotly, not quite believing his own eyes as he watched her standing over him, her legs parted. She dipped a finger into the shadowy crevice between her legs and then trailed it up the firm flatness of her stomach, massaging the wetness from her sex on one nipple, then repeating the process on the other. He licked his lips, his body hard as a rock and frozen still, his fists digging into the blanket.
She looked down at him, wearing only the satin hat, drunk on power and pleasure, her sultry voice every man’s erotic fantasy.
“Santa thinks Jack has been a very good boy.”
He could barely talk, but tried, his breath heaving. “I have been very good, Santa. I can be even better if you come down here.”
She laughed, and the husky sound nearly drove him over the edge. She lowered slowly to one knee, and then to the other, leaning over him, letting her breasts fall forward, swaying in front of his mouth. She trembled with sensation as she ran her wet, hot sex along his erection, teasing them both.
Her own vision blurred when he moved up and drew one breast, salty and delicious with her own taste, into his mouth. He suckled one, then the other as she slid over him, until he lost track of where she started and he ended.
Needing him more than she had ever needed anything, anyone, she took him deep inside of her, glorying in the guttural cry that broke from him with the contact. She smiled, and almost lost herself again when he arched upward, driving himself into her. But she held on, no—not yet. Her breath came out in pants, and she smiled at him, pushing him back, moving her hips slowly. Taking charge.
She watched him, his skin taut, his head arched back, mouth moving in gasps of shock every time she ground against him. She knew what she wanted, what she wanted to give him most of all, and she knew it was within reach, recognizing the hot pleasure building in her.
She gave him everything—all of her passion, all of her trust, all of her love. She looked down into his eyes, and saw that he was offering her the
same, and her heart burst as she lost control, loving him with all that she had.
He brought his hands up, grabbed her hips tightly and moved wildly under her. With him supporting her, she met his rhythm and rode him hard, arching her back as her orgasm consumed her. As the waves of it traveled through her, she declared her love for him when she felt him shudder underneath her, the heat of his climax shooting inside of her. Their voices blended, faded to murmurs; their bodies continued mating, until she fell against him, their hearts pounding, exhausted.
She lifted her head and kissed him tenderly.
“I do love you, Jack. I haven’t ever loved anyone, haven’t ever been loved. But I want to discover what it all means with you.”
He slipped his arms around her, holding her close, cherishing her words.
“I want to share it all with you, too, Rainey, but I have to say, I think we have one problem.”
She frowned against his shoulder. “What?”
He laughed softly, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the scent, and feeling—incredibly—his passion stirring again.
“This is only our first Christmas together, and I am not sure you can ever top this gift, sweetheart.”
She laughed, too, feeling happiness deep down into her bones.
“Well, I’ll just have to keep on trying.” She wiggled against him in a way that made his blood catch fire. “But I don’t think we are quite done here yet.”
“Me, neither. And by the way, don’t ever, ever lose that hat.”
Laughing and loving, Raine lowered her lips to his, and made that promise to him. And many more.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Just One Night by Nancy Warren
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1
“SICK LEAVE?” Rob Klassen yelled, unable to believe what he was hearing from the editor of World Week, the international current affairs magazine he’d worked for as a photojournalist for twelve years. “I’m not sick!”
Gary Wallanger pulled off his glasses and tossed them onto his desktop cluttered with Rob’s proof sheets documenting a skirmish in a small town near the Ras Ajdir border between Tunisia and Libya. “What do you suggest I call it? Shot-in-the-ass leave? You damned near got yourself killed. Again.”
Gary didn’t like his people getting too close to the action they were reporting on and his glare was fierce.
Rob put all his weight on his good leg, but even so, the throbbing in his left thigh was hard to ignore. “I was running away as fast as I could.”
“I saw the hospital report. You were running toward the shooter. Bad luck for you. They can tell those things from the entry and exit wounds.” In the uncomfortable silence that followed Rob heard the roar of traffic, honking cabs and sirens on the Manhattan streets far below. He hadn’t counted on Gary finding out the details he’d have rather kept to himself.
“You want to be a war hero,” his editor snapped, “join the forces. We report news. We don’t make it.”
Another beat ticked by.
“There were bullets flying everywhere. I got disoriented.”
“Bull. You were playing hero again, weren’t you?”
Rob could still picture the toddler cowering behind an oil drum. Yeah, his boss would have been happier if he’d left her scared and crying in the line of gunfire. But he was the one who had to wake up every morning and look himself in the mirror. Truth was he hadn’t thought at all. He’d merely dashed over to the girl and hauled her to safety. Getting shot hadn’t been in his plan.
Would he have acted any differently if he’d known what the outcome would be? He sure as hell hoped not.
He knew better than to tell Gary any of that. “You don’t win Pulitzers with a telephoto lens. I needed to get close enough to capture the real story.”
“Close enough to take a bullet in the leg.”
“That was unfortunate,” Rob admitted. “I can still handle a camera though. I can still walk.” He made a big show of stalking across the carpeted office, scooting around the obstacle course of stacked back issues, piled newspapers and a leaning tower of reference books. If he concentrated he could manage to stride without a limp or a wince though he could feel sweat begin to break out from the effort.
“No.” The single word stopped him in his tracks.
He turned. “I’m the best you’ve got. You have to send me back out on assignment.”
“I will. As soon as you can run a mile in six.”
“A mile in six minutes? Why so fast?”
Gary’s voice was as dry as the North African desert. “So the next time you have to run for your life you can make it.”
Rob paused for breath and grabbed a chair back for support. He and Gary had been friends for a long time and he knew the guy was making the right decision even if it did piss him off. “It was pure bad luck. If I’d dodged right instead of left...”
“You know most people would be pretty happy to be alive if they were you. And they’d be thrilled to get a paid vacation.” Gary picked up his glasses and settled himself behind his desk.
“They patched me up at the closest military hospital. It was nothing but a flesh wound.”
“The bullet nicked your femur. I do know how to read a hospital report.”
Damn.
“Go home. Rest up. The world will continue to be full of trouble when you get back.” Rob knew Gary was still aggravated by the fact that he didn’t compliment him on his photos, which they both knew to be superb. Instead of getting the praise he deserved, he was being sent home like a kid who’d screwed up.
He scowled.
Home.
He’d been on the road so much in the past few years that home was usually wherever he stashed his backpack.
If he’d ever had a home, it was in Fremont, Washington, a suburb of Seattle that prided itself on celebrating counterculture, considering itself the center of the universe and officially endorsing the right to be peculiar. Fremont seemed a fitting destination for him right now that he was feeling both self-centered and peculiar. Besides, it was the only place he could think of to go even though everything that had made the place home was now gone.
“All right. But I heal fast. I’ll be running six-minute miles in a couple weeks. Tops.”
“You’ll be under a doctor’s care and I’ll be needing the physician’s report before I can reinstate you for any assignments in the field.”
“Oh, come on, Gary. Give me a freakin’ break.”
Once more the glasses came off and he was regarded by tired hazel eyes. “I am giving you a break. I could assign you to a desk right here in New York. That’s your other option.”
He shook his head. No way he was being trapped in a small space. He didn’t like feeling trapped. Not ever. “See you in a couple of weeks.”
Once he was out of Gary’s office and in the hallway Rob gave up the manly act and tried to put as little weight on his injured leg as possible.
“Rob, you should be on crutches,” a female voice called out.
He turned, recognizing the voice and mustering a happy-to-see-you smile. “Romona, hi.”
A print business reporter making the transition to television, Romona had the looks of a South American runway model and the brains of Hillary Clinton. They got together whenever they were both in New York. Neither had any interest in commitment but enjoyed eac
h other’s company and bodies. “I heard you were hurt. How are you doing?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Okay.”
Even though they’d never do anything as obvious as hug in public, the glance she sent him from tilted green eyes steamed around the edges. She dropped her voice. “Why don’t you come over later and I’ll kiss you all better?”
“I’m filthy. Haven’t shaved in days, had a haircut in weeks, my—”
“I like you scruffy. You look like a sunburned pirate.”
He knew he’d hit rock bottom when he realized he had no desire to spend the night with a passionate woman. His leg was burning, he had a vicious case of jet lag and he’d been pulled out of the field. He felt too worn-out tired even to get laid. All he wanted to do was hide out for a while and heal.
He shook his head attempting to appear more disappointed than he was. “Sorry. I have a plane to catch.”
She knew as well as he did that plane tickets could be changed and it was a measure of his exhaustion that this was the best excuse he could come up with.
She didn’t call him on it though, merely patted his arm and said, “Maybe next time.”
That was the great thing about Romona. She was a lot like him. He’d enjoyed any number of women over the years, loved sex, but had no interest in settling down. Career came first. Maybe it was shallow, and maybe there was a part of him that longed for a woman to comfort him, to listen to his stories, share his pain. The only woman who’d ever been like that, though, had been his grandmother. Ruefully, he suspected she’d been the love of his life.
And now she was gone.
He had so many frequent flyer miles that upgrading was no problem when he got to LaGuardia. He even scored an aisle seat so he could stretch his bad leg out a little.
Once airborne, he recalled that the family attorney had tried to talk to him about the Fremont house. What with getting shot and all, he hadn’t got around to calling back. He’d call him as soon as he got into Seattle.
Yours for the Night Page 39