Watching You

by Leslie A. Kelly

  Somewhere outside of their small closet, which had grown hot with their passion, a voice called out. Not letting the kiss end, she reached for the knob and flicked the lock.

  He still held her by the hip and by the head as they continued the hard, completely unfiltered kiss. He wasn’t hurting her, but he was keeping her exactly where he wanted her. She couldn’t have moved if she’d tried.

  Jess had never known how she would feel about being dominated, but the hint of it now thrilled her. She trusted him. Despite his usually gruff exterior, inside Reece was a protector. He would never hurt a woman. Besides, she had nowhere else she wanted to be, and she didn’t want him going anywhere, either. To ensure he didn’t, she reached around and grabbed his fine, taut ass, tugging him toward her, moving her feet apart to make room for him.

  “Oh, Reece,” she groaned into his mouth when she felt how perfectly he fit there, in the warm space at the top of her thighs. He thrust against her, and she cried out as his powerful erection hit her in the perfect spot to make her even more crazy and wet.

  “Say it,” he ordered as he moved his mouth down to press a hot, wet kiss on the nape of her neck. He scraped his teeth across her pulse point, and she shivered with the need to have his mouth in other places. “Say it, Jessica.”

  She knew what he wanted. What he was waiting for. The ball was in her court, and she had to call the play. She didn’t even have to think about it.

  “Game on.”

  That was all it took. Reece came back to her mouth for another hot kiss as he reached for her dress and yanked it up to her waist. This wasn’t going to be slow and sexy, all strokes and slides. It would be hot and hard, fast and illicit. A wild fuck to slake the desperate hunger for the time being. Jesus, she was out of her mind with excitement.

  He reached up and hooked his fingers in the lacy panties, yanking them down until they puddled around her ankles. Kicking them out of the way, she cried out at the feel of his hand between her legs, his fingers dipping between her swollen folds to test how ready she was.

  “So wet. So hot,” he grunted, burying his face in her neck as his body shook.

  He stroked her clit, firmly, expertly, and Jess came so fast and so hard her legs went weak. He didn’t slow down at all, plunging a finger into her vagina, hard and deep. She gasped, clinging to his shoulders as she arched toward his hand.

  “More,” she groaned, cooing as he gave her what she wanted—another finger, another plunge, a bite on her neck as he lifted a hand to tug her breast out of the strapless bra.

  As he tweaked her nipple, she reached for his groin. He wasn’t, thankfully, wearing a belt, and she went right for the top button. Her hands shook when she realized his damn pants were designer and had a long row of buttons, rather than a zipper.

  He worked them open like a pro, flicking them with one hand while he continued to finger fuck her with the other. Then he shoved the trousers down, and he was free, his big, steely cock springing into her palm.

  Jess gasped at the power, squeezing it, wanting it. Wanting it now. No more fooling around, no foreplay necessary. They’d been building up to this since the minute she’d felt his eyes on her from across the crowded gallery. She was just patient enough to watch as he yanked a condom from his jacket pocket—jacket pocket? Seriously? This was one confident guy. Not that she gave a damn at this particular moment.

  Gripping her waist, her dress bunched around it, he lifted her high. Jess leaned back against the wall, opening her legs and wrapping them around his lean hips. “Now, damn it.”

  He came into her with one hard, powerful thrust, groaning with pleasure as all her softest, silkiest parts opened in welcome. Jess wasn’t quite as discreet, and the scream she let out wasn’t a bit quiet. He reacted quickly, covering her mouth with his, kissing her hungrily.

  She wished she’d yanked his shirt off. She wanted to scratch him, bite him, and writhe so hard against him they would meld together as one being. But she had to settle for cries and whimpers as he pulled out and then slammed into her again, driving himself up into her core, where no one had ever reached her before. Another orgasm exploded from her sex to her soul, rollicking and roaring in a jubilant dance through her entire body.

  “God, Jessica, how I’ve wanted you,” he muttered as he watched her come, obviously feeling her clench and squeeze him deep inside. “Since the minute I saw you.”

  She didn’t so much float back from the orgasm as slam down to meet another delicious thrust. “If only you’d bothered to come downstairs and say hello, we could have been doing this every day for weeks.”

  “Don’t torture me, woman.” He groaned. “Even my cock could weep at the thought.”

  “So let it.”

  Naughty whispers faded away as his thrusts got faster and more frantic. It didn’t take long before he let out a guttural groan, buried his face in her neck, and went still. She felt him pulsing deep inside her and sagged in his arms, exhausted, thrilled, sated, and wondering when they could do it again.

  “Hate to tell you this…”

  He instantly tensed, looking into her eyes.

  “I’m going to have to insist you do that to me again soon.”

  His hard laughter was louder than her sob of disappointment as he drew out of her and let her down. “Can we get into a bed first?”

  She leaned up to kiss him softly. “Maybe the back seat of a limo?”

  Just like that, he began to harden again. She almost collapsed. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They quickly straightened themselves up as much as possible in a closet, giggling like teens who’d gone at it right below the noses of the adults. Finally, they emerged from the closet into the dark hallway. They paused to look at each other to make sure there were no telltale signs of what they’d been up to. Ha. Fat chance.

  His tux was wrinkled, one of the buttons on his shirt missing. His hair looked like he’d stuck his finger in a socket, and she smoothed it as best she could.

  Her own hair was tangled—her little comb useless against the twist of his fingers. Plus her dress hung crookedly. She suspected the hem had torn. Emily would kill her, but she might have to do a bit of sewing repair on it.

  “Worth it,” he said, brushing his lips against hers.

  “So worth it,” she replied.

  As they began walking, hand in hand, she had to make sure he got the message she had followed him to deliver before they’d been so deliciously distracted. It mattered that he didn’t think he couldn’t trust her to know when to say something and when to remain silent.

  “I don’t want to rip off any scabs, but I really do want you to know how sorry I am about what happened earlier.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He sighed. “I react badly when I see Steve Baker.”

  “I assume it’s because of your sister?”

  His next step might have had a hitch, but he ignored it and kept walking. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Everything goes back to my sister.”

  His entire life was tied to that night in the Atlanta hotel. Everything before it had been lost. That which came after had made him the man he was now. She wondered if his brothers were the same way, and imagined they were. Reece was the only one who’d gone back into show business, however. It was probably harder on him than the others.

  “In case I’ve never said it, I’m so sorry about what happened to her.”

  “So am I.” He fell silent for a second, and then admitted, in a low voice, “Despite the stories, Steve didn’t get her hooked on drugs. It wasn’t his fault, and he got a bad rap for it.”

  Her turn to miss a step. Reece paused to steady her and they stopped dead in the middle of the hall. “I thought that was why there was bad blood between you.”

  “No bad blood. I don’t blame Steve. He’s just a reminder I could live without.”

  Of course he was, as she’d suspected earlier. Now, hearing Reece didn’t hate the man, she felt better. She wished the w
ound wasn’t still so raw he couldn’t even stand to be in the room with Baker, but she knew people reacted to loss in different ways.

  “Do me a favor. If we run into him again, don’t bring up the past.”

  There was no please. He didn’t say the word. But he’d uttered a plea all the same. Her heart twisted. She knew this man better than she’d ever expected to. There was a vulnerability to Reece Winchester, one he almost never showed the world. She’d caught a glimpse of that man in the car earlier. Still, she’d never imagined hearing such loss-inspired pain from him.

  “I won’t,” she said, hating his anguish, yet understanding it, too. Rachel. Poor damaged, lost Rachel. God, if she ever lost Liza, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  “Thank you.”

  “But, Reece, I have to say this. Holding on to this agony isn’t doing you any favors.”

  A long, slow breath eased out from between his lips. “I know.”

  “Maybe you could think about letting it go, or even extending an olive branch to Steve. It’s probably what Rachel would have wanted.”

  They reached the double doors leading from hallway B back into hallway A. Right before he opened them, he answered, “Maybe. Better yet, maybe he’ll go back to Europe soon and I won’t have to do anything at all.”

  As they entered the front hallway, a loud rumble of chatter, champagne-inspired laughter, and music assaulted them. Nobody appeared to notice as they slipped back into the crowd, which was a good thing. She’d drawn enough jealous stares tonight. Now that she actually deserved them, having spent an amazing interlude with the sexiest freaking man she’d ever known, they might sting more. Especially since she looked like she deserved them.

  Stepping close to him, she whispered, “By the way, I have a headache.”

  “What?”

  “Use me as an excuse. I have a headache and we can’t stay for long goodbyes.”

  Nodding and putting a warm hand on the small of her back—instantly arousing her again—he led her toward the atrium that served as the hotel lobby. As she’d expected, once they were spotted, he was stopped every few feet. Her imaginary headache might have been a brain tumor, considering how gushingly sympathetic people were once they heard the excuse. If she’d had to stay five minutes more, and be offered any more surefire homeopathic remedies, she’d probably have gotten a migraine for real. Fortunately, they finally did get past the crowd, nearing the exit.

  “I’ll have the car brought around,” he said, appearing as relieved as she felt.

  “Okay.” Thinking about how long it might be before they got to wherever they were going tonight—even if just for a long, long drive, she said, “You know, while you do that, I think I’ll go to the ladies’ room.”

  He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, his fingertips gliding gently across her temple. “While you’re there, you might want to put a cold cloth on your forehead. I suspect you’ll want to get rid of your headache quickly. Before we get into the car.”

  A glimmer of sensual knowledge appeared in his eyes, and she sighed, knowing exactly what was going to happen there: everything they had done in the closet. Plus many more deliciously wicked things they had not.

  Quivering thinking about it, Jessica began to walk back the way they’d come. They’d been close to the ladies’ room, and she should have used it then. She’d just been distracted.

  Long before she got near the facilities, however, she saw a line winding out the door and down the hall. There was no corresponding line of men. Typical.

  Noticing the woman she’d flipped off earlier, and not wanting to deal with any nonsense, or with the line, she considered whether she really needed the pit stop.

  “There’s another one down the hall of the east wing,” a passing woman said, apparently noticing her less-than-enthused expression. “It’s empty—no one waiting at all.”

  About to voice her thanks, realizing there was at least one nice, helpful person around, she saw she couldn’t. The woman had melted into the crowd. Jess had gotten only a glimpse of long, coarse, dark hair with gray streaks.

  Heading back the way she’d come, Jess stopped to let Reece know where she was going. Of course, in the ninety seconds she’d been gone, he’d been cornered by a famous actor. Even from several feet away, she could hear the man angling for a role.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, lifting a shaky hand to her temple. “Is the car here yet? I think this headache is turning into a migraine.”

  Taking the hint, the actor asked Reece to call him to schedule lunch, looked at her and suggested the best homeopathic guy downtown, and then left them alone.

  “Thanks for the rescue. I didn’t expect you back so quickly.”

  “I never made it to the ladies’ room. The line was too long with catty women I wouldn’t call ladies. I’m going to go to the other side of the hotel where I hear it’s much less crowded.”

  “I’m glad you stopped on the way. Your timing was impeccable. That guy never lets up.”

  She smirked. “And that’s different from everyone else here…how? These people are so pushy they might as well be on construction sites moving dirt around.”

  Chuckling, he said, “Now go. And I swear I’ll get the car here this time.”

  Before they parted again, however, she heard a man’s voice say, “Congratulations, Reece.”

  Good grief, were they ever going to get out of here?

  About to go into full-on migraine tears mode, she hesitated when a broad smile broke over Reece’s face. Wondering who’d inspired the warm look, she saw an older man, probably in his early sixties, tall and handsome, with thick, graying brown hair.

  “Dad,” Reece said, and she almost fell over. “What are you doing here?”

  Of course he had a father. Everyone had a father. But his father was here? Now? And, judging by his surprised expression, Reece hadn’t even known?

  “Why don’t you tell a guy you’re getting an award?”

  “It’s not a big deal, really. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

  “Not a big deal, says my kid the philanthropist,” the older man said as he opened his arms and drew Reece in for a bear hug.

  The embrace was so affectionate, a living example of parental love reciprocated. Given what Reece had told her about the way his father and aunt had taken the boys away from the darkness and scandal of their childhoods, she’d been prepared to admire his dad. Now that she’d seen the happiness in Reece’s face, she could easily love him.

  “Your speech was great. Brought tears to my eyes.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t come up and sit with us for the whole thing.”

  “Ahh, I didn’t have a ticket. I snuck in the back to watch your speech. Been waiting for you to leave—I knew you wouldn’t stay long. I was afraid somebody’d kick me out if I let on I was there without an invite.” His brow furrowed. “Then you disappeared for a while and I was afraid you’d snuck out the back. Not that I’d’ve blamed you.”

  Feeling her cheeks warm, Jess waited to see how Reece would respond to his unexplained disappearance.

  He merely gaped. “You snuck in? Are you kidding? I could have gotten you a ticket.”

  “If you’d bothered to tell me about it, Eddie, I would have asked you to!” The old man cuffed Reece’s shoulder, and she almost giggled.

  Then she realized what he had said. “Eddie?”

  “Don’t you dare,” he muttered.

  “Ahh, this must be the pretty girl who was with you when some lunatic shot at you,” his father said, turning to face her. He examined her carefully, head to toe, not revealing much. Then, slowly, he nodded, and extended his hand. “Edward Winchester. I’m very pleased to meet you. Especially since my lughead son hasn’t told me anything about you.”

  Lughead. Eddie. There was almost too much to grasp, and she wanted to both laugh and hug the older man. A smile on her lips, she shook his calloused, workingman’s hand “I’m Jessica Jensen, Mr
. Winchester. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “Call me Edward.”

  They talked for a few minutes, some father-son banter the National Enquirer would probably love to hear. She listened, and then realized the men might want a moment alone.

  “I was about to go to the ladies’ room.”

  Reece nodded. “While I was supposed to call for the car. Dad, join us.”

  “In the ladies’?”

  Reece sighed as his father wagged his brows.

  “No way,” the older man added. “I met a nice hostess at the restaurant upstairs where I waited out this shindig. I think I’ll go back up there for some pie.”

  Jessica and Reece looked at each other at the same instant, and she felt a giggle rise to her lips. “You know, we were just talking about pie a little while ago.”

  “Well, why don’t you two join me then?”

  “Thanks, Dad, but we don’t want to cramp your style.” Reece’s eyes—those eyes that had once seemed predatory to her and now looked warm—twinkled, and his devastatingly sexy smile flashed. “Besides, Jessica doesn’t really like pie.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Oh, have you discovered a liking for pie all of a sudden?”

  She licked her lips. “Actually, pie might just have become my favorite dessert. I’m looking forward to trying all sorts of varieties.”

  “Well, then, you’d better get busy tasting.”

  Mr. Winchester—call me Edward—looked back and forth between them, not understanding, but not asking what they were talking about. Nor did he ask again if they wanted to join him; the man could obviously read the signals. His smile said he approved.

  “It was lovely meeting you, Edward,” she said.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her in to kiss her cheek. While close, he whispered, “I like seeing my son smile. He doesn’t do it often enough. So thank you.”