“You, in as many different positions as he can think of.” He nodded to himself, then said, “Condom,” and pointed to the bedside table where a handful were scattered. “And before you start thinking this was a planned seduction, it wasn’t.” I turned away to get one and he kept talking. “In shooting, they trained us to prepare for success, not failure. I was just…”
I put the condom into his hand. “You succeeded. Move on.”
He ripped the packet open and had the condom on in seconds. Far faster than I could have with one working hand. Then he swept me up into his arms and held me over the bed, but instead of lowering me carefully, he let me fall the last six inches, smiling at all the jiggling he’d created.
“That brings out the crazy-lust,” he said, gazing at my breasts.
When my body stilled, I put both arms above my head. “I’m all yours.”
He nodded, but he didn’t pounce. “So, forget about your pleasure?”
“I know what you can do to me,” I said, gazing up at his very dark eyes. “Show me what I don’t know.”
He reached down and rolled me onto my stomach, which startled me, then he snapped, “On your hands and knees.”
“Like this?” I wriggled up into what Jill called a doggy, but with the cast on one wrist, I could only lean on one hand.
“On your elbows,” he said when he saw my plight, and that was easier, but my bottom was way up in the air. “And don’t talk.”
All the bossiness was turning me on, and I smiled to myself as he climbed onto the bed behind me, surprised that I wasn’t squirming with embarrassment. I wasn’t used to showing off that part of my anatomy, and when he pulled my legs apart, it should have been humiliating. Except…it was beyond sexy to imagine him looking at me so intimately, and being turned on by that.
He moved in behind me, and without any warning, I felt prodding in a place I wasn’t expecting it.
I squeaked. Loudly. And he said, “Relax. We’re not going there. Today.”
I swallowed down alarm, wondering if my ‘free ride’ offer was going to be more than I could handle. But the next thing I felt was him poking that very hard erection where it was meant to go, where I was slippery and tingling. Then he grabbed my hips with both hands and…slam! He was deep inside me.
I grunted in shock, but in the next breath I was gasping as he pulled back and slammed in again.
“Oh yeah,” he breathed. “The big guy loves that.” Then his hands transferred to my breasts as he leant over me, squeezing them hard and then soft, in time with his rhythm as he pounded into me, his breaths growing harsher. “This is so good,” he said, then he made a sound that I hadn’t heard before. It was half-a-moan but deep in his throat, as if he’d dropped monitoring his behavior and was just experiencing.
For some reason, I found that totally wild. And while I desperately wanted to concentrate on what gave him pleasure, I was spiraling out into some primitive rutting excitement of my own, with the sensations from my breasts mingling with the weird sensation of his scrotum slapping against my clitoris with each thrust. Then he wound an arm under my breasts and pulled me upright, onto my haunches.
“Touch yourself,” he growled as his hands transferred to my breasts which bounced with each thrust. Looking down and watching them was even turning me on, and seeing his large hands closed over them possessively made me feel …his. He wasn’t caressing me because he thought I’d like it. He was foundling me because it turned him on.
“Angel,” he grunted, and the urgency in his voice focused me. I slid the fingers of my good hand through the slipperiness he’d created to stroke my clitoris. And it felt amazing.
He was still pounding into me from behind and the dizzying stab of pleasure that accompanied each slam unraveled my control. It was only seconds later that I came undone again and he grabbed my breasts harder, holding me against him as I shuddered with the exquisite bliss while he pounded at me relentlessly.
Then he turned me far enough in his arms to find my mouth. I’d never been kissed like that before. Hard, like his cock pounding into me, and then he stopped kissing me and his fingers bit into my breasts as he groaned, his whole body shuddering, pulling me closer into him as he ground his pelvis up against me.
There was no finesse in it, nothing for me. In fact, I wasn’t even sure he was aware of my presence in that moment. He was too deep into his own bliss.
But I didn’t care about that. I was exhilarated because I’d just discovered the liberation of fucking, as opposed to making love. It was so amazing, I wanted to laugh. So I did, shaking my head in wonder at what we’d just done.
I’d never imagined sex could be so selfish, so completely lacking in convention. But it wasn’t completely uncaring. I knew, even in his basest moment, Jack would never hurt me. He’d retain that level of consciousness.
But to let himself go that far, to just embody desire and do…whatever he wanted. I couldn’t help laughing again. He really was sexually confident, and I was about to tell him that when he loosened his grip on my breasts and rolled his thumbs over my nipples, making me shiver again as shards of pleasure cut through me.
“What are you laughing at?” His voice was husky against my neck. “And it better not be me.”
“I feel…uninhibited.”
“So you liked that?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I loved that. And I’m going to fuck you that way. Wild and…free.”
He laughed, a soft rumble against my hair. “Listen to you, Miss Prim, saying fuck as if you know how to swear.”
“I can swear.”
“Cannot.” He wrestled me onto my back and held my arms above my head. “And don’t lie or I’ll tie you up next time,” he growled, then he gazed down at me, all sexy, satisfied male, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest. He was so gorgeous, so…Jack. I just wanted to eat him up.
Which reminded me. “You promised I could taste you.” I pouted and he raised an eyebrow.
“First swearing, then lying, and now unreasonable demands. Do you think I’m here to pander to your sexual needs?”
“Yes I do. That’s exactly why you’re here.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but I saw his smile falter, only for a second before he said, “Then if you’ll give me ten minutes to recuperate, I’ll oblige.”
He rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom—presumably to deal with the condom—then he came back and pulled me into his arms.
“Six minutes,” I told him, still bantering.
“Shhh.”
He smoothed a hand over my hair and I snuggled into his chest, counting seconds, matching them to the rhythm of his comforting heartbeat. But before I reached two hundred, I could hear his even breathing and it sounded like sleep.
Minutes later, I was sure he’d succumbed, but I wasn’t tired. I was anxious. I’d let him think I was only there for sex, and that might suit his short-term goal for us, but I wanted more. I wanted what Louella had suggested. Dating. A relationship. Marriage. Children. So should I have clarified that I wanted more from him? Or was it okay to be ‘in the moment’ with sex?
And why had he blanched when I’d said that? It was almost as if I’d reminded him of something.
I shook my head, completely unable to work it out, and maybe I was tired. It had to be well after midnight. So sleep would be good. There was always the morning. Or at least that’s what I was thinking when I drifted off, only to be woken by the sound of Jack’s voice.
“Of course I can come now.” He was walking into the bedroom in jeans and no shirt. “Ring Caitlin. She’ll get flights. Tell her to email them to me.” I sat up in bed, watching him by the light drifting in from the next room, but he completely ignored me to continue with his call as he walked to the wardrobe. Sick premonition clawed at my gut.
Remember Louella. Try and stay in the game.
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have checked in. But I’m on my way now. I’ll be there soon.” He
pulled shoes out of the wardrobe and pushed his feet into them. “In a couple of hours—” He listened for a moment. “We’re not there yet. Let’s just deal with what’s in front of us.” More listening, then, “Okay. Bye.”
He dropped his phone onto the end of the bed and pulled a shirt out of the wardrobe. “I have to leave.” He didn’t turn, didn’t look at me. “Stay if you want. The room’s paid for till eleven.”
I felt myself go still. “Jack?”
He simply continued to button up his shirt with his back to me, so I asked the obvious question.
“What’s wrong?” Had he missed a meeting or something?
“I ordered a room service breakfast for nine. You’re welcome to it.” He sounded exactly like Jack. Calm. Matter-of-fact. As if we’d organized this. As if I wasn’t wondering what the hell was going on.
“Jack.”
He pulled out his suitcase and put it on the bed, then he started to pack it.
I walked around to stand beside him naked. “Are you angry with me? What’s going on?”
“I have to go,” he repeated, still not looking at me, still packing.
If I was as pushy as Jill, I would have grabbed him and wrenched him around to look at me. Make him answer. But I wasn’t Jill. I was me, feeling gutted and hopelessly unsure how to deal with this. I pressed my fingertips against my lips to quell the upsurge of nausea that seemed to come out of nowhere lately.
I should have more control over my emotions. That was obvious. I should also do what I could to salvage the situation. “What I said before, about just wanting sex…”
He closed his suitcase and zipped it shut.
“…I want more than that.”
Finally, he looked at me. “I have to go.” His expression was frighteningly blank. “I’ll ring you next time I’m in town.” He made no effort to sound convincing, and I was so shocked, I couldn’t speak. He stared at me for several long seconds, maybe waiting to hear my response. But I had nothing. So he picked up his suitcase and walked out of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I didn’t cry.
I could have.
I went back to bed and curled into a ball of misery. But some self-protection program kicked in and I fell into a deep, numbing sleep. When room service knocked on the door at nine, I was groggy and disoriented, as if I had a hangover. And it was of sorts—an emotional hangover. Goodness only knows what they thought of me bumbling to the door in a bathrobe, bleary-eyed and hair all over the place.
I didn’t have the energy to say Go away, so I let them bring in Jack’s breakfast. Unfortunately, the smell of bacon and eggs curdled my stomach, so I escaped into the bathroom and had a shower, stripping off the last of my makeup. Which I really should have thought about beforehand. But I was distracted by not thinking about Jack, not wondering what that phone call had been about, or why it had changed him from a playful lover into a stone-cold bastard.
So at 10 am I was confronting two dilemmas: the only thing I had to wear was my gown from the previous night, plus I had no makeup with me except for touchup powder and lipstick.
If the paparazzi were still lurking, hoping to catch celebs behaving badly, I might get inadvertently snapped looking like something the cat dragged in. Not that I was important enough to warrant their attention, but I had been photographed with Noah Steele. That might be enough to interest them in splashing an embarrassing ‘morning after’ shot across a women’s magazine. There would be no mending my relationship with my mother if she saw something like that.
So I needed help to escape, before housekeeping turned up to oust me, but my options were limited.
I couldn’t bring myself to phone Rosie and ask for help. She’d seen enough of my dramas. Fritha would drop everything and come to me, but I wanted her with Jill, making sure she didn’t run off on her wedding because I wasn’t due there until tomorrow.
That left Louella…
“Very nice dress,” she said when she answered the phone. “You look good on Noah Steele’s arm.”
“Thank you. But I’m currently stuck in a hotel room at the casino with nothing to wear but last night’s dress, and no makeup. With possible paparazzi waiting below,” I added, just to clarify the situation. Then I looked at the bedside clock. “And I have forty minutes to exit the room.”
“So that conversation we had about who was most likely to be indiscreet—”
“I know.” I wanted to sigh. Louella always had to be right. “But I was with Jack. I was trying…”
“And now he’s gone and you’re left to sort out your own escape?”
I made her wait, then sighed. “Yes.”
I didn’t need a relationship with my mother. I could call Louella anytime I wanted disapproval.
“You can phone reception and ask to book the room for the night…”
I hadn’t thought of that, but looking around, I couldn’t imagine how much it would cost. Thousands? I might not be able to afford it.
“…or you could phone one of the boutiques downstairs, say your suitcase hasn’t arrived yet, and ask them to deliver some clothing to your room.”
I would never have thought of that.
“I suggest you offer them fifty dollars to deliver it within ten minutes. I’m sure they’ll oblige.”
“Louella, you’re amazing.”
“Just a moment.” I waited, wondering what she was doing. The phone was muted so I couldn’t hear anything and I was in a hurry now. But she came back quickly. “Nicholas will be out the front in my Bentley at 11am. You don’t need to see reception. Jack will have paid for the room. Just lock the door as you leave.”
She’d thought of everything. Thank you wasn’t nearly enough, but I said it anyway. Then I scurried to ring reception and have them put me through to a boutique who happily took my credit card details and delivered a sundress and sunglasses, underwear and a makeup pack in under ten minutes!
By eleven I was strolling through the foyer of the casino with my belongings in a trendy plastic satchel the boutique had kindly provided, trying to pretend I was a hotel patron heading out for a day’s shopping. I had my hair scraped back into a ponytail, and with oversize sunglasses on, I doubted anyone would recognize me.
Except…Nick did.
I’d taken two steps outside the hotel’s big sliding glass doors when I saw Louella’s Bentley and Nick opening the door. Unfortunately, I was in such a rush to get to him I almost tripped over my stupid high heels. Somehow I managed to thrust out my good arm and caught Nick’s shoulder, just in the moment a flash went off. Then another, and before I could use Nick’s strength to pull myself upright I heard voices behind me.
“Angel! Is this your boyfriend? Did you stay overnight—”
Nick helped me into the back of the car and closed the door, facing the photographer who was trying to shoot me through the window.
“I’m Ms Lata’s driver,” Nick said evenly, although I wasn’t sure if they’d believe that when he was wearing jeans and a black vest again, with his biceps tattoo clearly visible. But I was distracted from that by the loud click of car doors locking around me. A second later I was startled again by a thump from behind as a different photographer tried to get my attention.
“Move away from the car,” Nick said loudly. “Or I’ll call the police. Malicious damage is a criminal offence.” I watched him take out his phone and photograph each of the paparazzi clustered around us. “Bentleys aren’t cheap, gentlemen. A scratch might cost you thousands. I doubt you’ll get that much for the photograph of a little-known singer going shopping.”
“She’s Noah Steele’s friend!” one said.
Nick merely stared at him while I cowered in the car. But miraculously, over the next few minutes, the chatter around us ceased. To my astonishment, Nick waved his arms at them as if he was shooing away flies, and even more astonishing, they left.
When he was installed in the drivers’ seat and had buckled on his seatbelt, he said, “Your apart
ment in Pyrmont?”
As if none of that had happened. I wanted to cry in gratitude and relief. Instead, I said, “Thank you. Yes.”
I seemed to be saying that a lot. Which meant—I reminded myself—that I was lucky. I had friends. Help. I wasn’t defined by the one thing that was going wrong in my life. And if I could work out a way to think of that one thing as something other than heartbreak…
Or maybe don’t think about it at all. Just focus on friends, fun. There was a wedding tomorrow and nothing I could do about Jack this weekend. If at all. So I had to let it go. I had to turn my attention to Jill, and make sure she married the love of her life.
She owed Finn that. He’d been through a lot for her.
I planned to remind her of that if she looked the slightest bit skittish.
So I thanked Nick profusely for the rescue when he dropped me home, and then discovered that I’d see him at the wedding. Louella was clearly taking her security issues seriously. Or…there was something going on between them.
Either way, it wasn’t my business. So I packed a suitcase, tried to eat, sang mournful songs and cried, then I lay in bed not sleeping, wondering where Jack was, what he was doing, and when I’d ever stop thinking about him.
By eleven the next morning I was on a flight to Jill, telling myself that I was doing okay. Life was okay. A sleepless night wasn’t the end of the world. But two things were bothering me.
Every love gone wrong song in my memory-banks was on replay, and the teenage boy seated next to me at the back of the plane could use a deodorant.
Plus, he wasn’t Jack.
I stared out the window resolutely, keeping my nose as far away from Mister Armpits as I could get it. Fifty minutes seemed to take forever, and then the plane was down and I was out and running across the tarmac to Fritha who broke past security and pulled me into a hug so tight I felt like a tie-dyed grasshopper had caught me.
I’m not sure when I started crying—before or after I reached her—but my sobs and her Poor baby went on for eternity, until security reminded her that she shouldn’t have gone outside the gate, and we were escorted back inside the terminal.
Husband Stay (Husband #2) Page 23