by Melody Anne
And they’d all come up wanting.
“I could get used to waking up to such a beautiful woman. I’m going to kiss you again.” That was her only warning before Alyssa found herself flipped beneath him, gazing up into his sparkling brown eyes, their only shelter the thick blankets that covered them.
She was caught. Completely caught.
The very next moment, the warmth of his lips covered hers. And Alyssa wasn’t disappointed. Jackson’s lips were sure and confident, just like him. It wasn’t a casual meeting of mouths. It was hunger, raw and untamed. It was passion and ecstasy. It was everything she’d hoped for and more. It was unlike anything she could have ever possibly imagined. The kiss he’d given her before she went to sleep was just a friendly good night. This kiss was pure seduction.
His tongue traced her lips, then pushed against her teeth so she would open to him. There was no hesitation, no doubt. He knew what he wanted and he demanded her submission. And she gave it to him willingly.
This man wasn’t used to losing, and right now he wanted her. And for once, she wasn’t afraid to accept what he was offering. With a hunger she didn’t know she was capable of feeling, Alyssa lifted her arms and clasped his neck, then pulled him closer.
Their tongues dueled, both of them fighting to deepen the kiss, almost attempting to climb within one another. No kiss had ever inspired such an animal hunger inside her. Carl had made her believe she was frigid, incapable of passion.
Now she knew that was nothing but a lie. She felt anything but cold right now. She felt heat, longing, a fierce appetite for more, for everything. She just couldn’t get enough. Jackson swallowed the low groan that rumbled from her mouth, greedily taking that as he took everything else she was giving him.
As his tongue slowed and began slipping in and out of her mouth, her core boiled over. He was telling her with his mouth exactly what he planned on doing with the rest of her body, and the blood rushing through her veins in response told her that her answer had to be a firm yes.
When he shifted to the side and his hand slid beneath the thick blankets that provided some semblance of privacy, she quivered beside him. His fingers danced over the top of her blouse, gently moving along the plane of her stomach before going higher.
As his kiss continued on and on, not stopping even long enough for her to draw needed breath, she reached for him with her entire body, writhing, angling, desperate for him to move his hand up a few more inches.
Her nipples tightened as they anticipated the healing touch of his palms running over them. And he didn’t disappoint her. With the sureness that she was learning was deep-seated in Jackson’s very nature, he slid his hand inside her shirt, his fingers as hungry as his mouth against her skin.
He roamed over the mound of her breast, and his palm soothed her nipple, making her back arch as she reached for him. She hated that she’d left her bra on; she was desperate to have his flesh against hers, to feel nothing between them.
Her fingers wound into his hair, and she tugged hard. All she could feel was a burning need, and if he didn’t make the ache go away, she was afraid she would melt where she was and be no more.
The stubble on his jaw scratched her smooth cheek, leaving his mark there for all the world to see, but she didn’t care. Let them think what they wanted. As long as he pleasured her, nothing else mattered. Nothing existed beyond the two of them and their overpowering desire.
His fingers slipped beneath the barrier of her bra and he finally pinched one swollen nipple. Oh, that was good, but now she desperately wanted his mouth where his fingers were, wanted his kiss to extend over the rest of her body. She was his, and he could do with her what he wanted.
With a low growl in his throat, Jackson withdrew his hand, making her whimper into his mouth. He pulled tighter on the blankets, ensuring that if anyone walked by, it would look only as if two lovers were sharing a kiss. At least Jackson was protecting her as he lit her body ablaze. When the haze cleared, she’d be thankful for this—perhaps.
Sliding over just a little more, he angled his chest so he’d have access to her breasts, and with the blanket firmly in place, he unclasped the front of her bra, allowing his hand to cup a swollen breast. Then he lifted up, his heated gaze capturing her own half-closed eyes. She was in a trance and couldn’t understand why he’d stopped kissing her.
“Beautiful,” he whispered as the look in his eyes made her fly even higher. It was both a relief and a cause of pain as he rolled her nipple tightly between his fingers, making her core pulse with need.
When he’d learned the shape of her breasts, his hand drifted down her body, and when he swiftly undid the button and zipper of her jeans, she didn’t so much as think of protesting. When he slipped inside the snug material to conquer the insignificant obstacle of her silk panties, she gasped.
Alyssa arched into Jackson when he found the place where she ached most and rubbed his fingers against her. He moved his lips up her neck and captured her mouth again as he stroked her heated flesh, sending her higher and higher.
This man could play with her all he wanted, as long as he continued building the flames of her desire like he was. There was nothing unsure about Jackson’s technique. She sought completion in his arms.
Flicking his fingers across her swollen bud, he whispered, “Let go.” His kiss deepened, and he grabbed her tongue with his lips and sucked as his fingers dived into the slick folds of her body.
She did as he asked—she let go, exploding in his arms, having to cover her mouth so the rest of the passengers didn’t know what was happening right next to them. Trembling as she slowly drifted back down to him, Alyssa was barely coherent. When the trembling stopped, she opened her eyes and gazed at him. Intense heat gazed back at her from his dark brown eyes, but deep satisfaction also burned within his depths.
“We’re only starting, Alyssa.”
She didn’t understand what he was saying until the lights popped on, making her nearly panic as she realized how disheveled she was.
“It’s okay,” he assured her as he slid his hands easily inside her shirt, pulled her bra into place, and clasped it, covering her up.
Thoroughly mortified, Alyssa scrambled to sit up at the same time she was fastening her jeans. Next she ran her fingers through her hair and hoped she didn’t look like a scarecrow.
An announcement came over the intercom to let them know they’d be landing in two hours. Without looking over at Jackson, Alyssa stood, quickly escaping to the bathroom, desperate to hide from him. Looking in the mirror, she was shocked when she saw the reflection staring back at her.
Her skin was flushed, there was irritated redness on her chin and cheek from his stubble, and her eyes were shining. She’d never been so pleasured by a man, and she’d never felt like this before. What did he mean, they were only starting?
They were soon going to land. He would go his way and she’d go hers. This had been only a small interlude on a long flight. It couldn’t go any further than that, could it?
After brushing her hair for the third time, Alyssa realized she couldn’t stay in the bathroom for the rest of the flight, so she reluctantly opened the door. But what was she going to do or say now? She’d never been in this position before.
He must be thinking that because she was a model she was easy—that this was something she did on a regular basis. He didn’t know her, didn’t know how out of character this was for her. She had always been a good girl, and surprisingly enough the modeling world hadn’t hardened her the way it did so many others.
Her behavior with him didn’t fit the kind of person she was, dammit. If he thought they were going to just continue where they had left off, he was going to be sorely disappointed. But . . . but . . . despite everything, Alyssa was amazed that she didn’t really want him disappointed. She wanted his last image of her to be a positive one. How she would accomplish this, she had no idea, but she’d just have to figure it out.
Their time was quickly ru
nning out . . .
Alyssa made her way down the aisle, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. She knew the other passengers didn’t suspect a thing, but she felt as if they were all focused on her and knew exactly what she’d just been up to. That scarlet A—or maybe M, for mile-high—was surely growing larger and larger on her chest.
If Jackson was expecting more of a make-out session before the flight was over, he would be highly disappointed. As she sat down, her bed now made back into a seat, he didn’t even glance up, though, but simply read his document as the flight attendant placed a tray before him with a light breakfast. Yes, it was actually evening, but for their bodies, still on Parisian time, it was closer to morning.
It didn’t take long for Alyssa’s food to be set in front of her, and she moved her eggs and sausage around on her plate. She was sure it was excellent, but she knew better than to try to eat anything when her stomach was feeling so nervous. Barf bags weren’t her idea of fun.
She had to admit to being a bit disgusted as she glanced surreptitiously over at Jackson. He didn’t appear as if he’d slept in his clothes. No. He looked just as good as when she’d met him in the Paris terminal. He’d even managed to shave while she’d been away from her seat, working fruitlessly on her own appearance.
He had on a new shirt, and he didn’t seem in the least affected by their sex play. It seemed she was the only one still thinking about it. If only she could act as if he hadn’t had his fingers inside her body less than thirty minutes ago.
With the clock ticking down, she stubbornly refused to say a word. If he wanted to pretend they hadn’t spoken for hours on end, that they hadn’t nearly made love, that they hadn’t had an almost magical encounter, she would follow his lead.
When an hour later the plane began its descent into JFK, her nerves sputtered and sparked. Would he even say good-bye?
This distance he’d suddenly placed between them confused her. Heck, she confused herself. Maybe he was disgusted with her, thought she was too easy. She herself wasn’t exactly happy with what she’d allowed him to do. And now she felt lost as they approached the landing strip.
When the wheels touched down, her heart sank. The flight was over. It was time she accepted that Jackson had merely found a way to entertain himself on their trip. She’d been the show and the encore. That he hadn’t “gotten off” didn’t matter. Maybe it had been on his bucket list to make a woman fall apart on an airplane. Well, he could certainly put a checkmark on that one.
It wasn’t just their make-out session that was making her feel so dismal all of a sudden. It was because of the hours they’d spoken, the way he’d listened to her, the things he’d shared—now all gone.
She’d fallen almost instantly under his spell, and she hadn’t quite figured out how to pull herself away from it. Trying to decide whether she should bid him farewell—Live long and prosper—Alyssa was shocked when he turned toward her with gleaming eyes.
JACKSON MIGHT HAVE
appeared to be reading the document on his laptop, but he’d been staring blankly at the same line since Alyssa returned to her seat. It was déjà vu all over again—since he’d met her in the terminal at Charles de Gaulle, he hadn’t gotten a lick of work done. And what was with this sudden, uncharacteristic indecisiveness?
As the plane touched down, he was completely at a loss. All he knew for sure was that he didn’t want the journey to end quite yet. He needed to spend the rest of the night with this woman, and he didn’t care what it would take to get her to agree to it. He was just unsure of what to say next—almost a first for him.
Jackson Whitman was always sure of what to say. Until today.
This fascination he had with her should have been setting off all sorts of alarms in his brain, but he chose to ignore his instincts. He needed to finish what they’d started, right? This wouldn’t be anything more than a night of great sex. He wouldn’t lie to her, wouldn’t fill her mind with visions of happily ever after; that would be despicable. He’d be straight with her and tell her again that they weren’t finished. He’d leave off the yet, though—no need to be too blunt.
Jackson normally chose women who knew the score, who wanted what he wanted. Occasionally, he’d run into a woman who angled for more than a night, but he was quick to put the kibosh on that.
He was good to the women he bedded; even those who pushed for more didn’t complain when the night was over. Sure, most, if not all, would have wanted him for at least a few more nights, but he was strictly a one-night kind of guy. That way feelings never had a chance to get involved.
He’d already shared too much with Alyssa, which should have been the ultimate red flag—but for some reason he found himself not caring.
“I have a room for the night.”
“What?” Understandable that she’d be startled, since he hadn’t spoken to her since their earlier make-out session.
“I want you to spend the night with me.” He couldn’t be clearer than that.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, her hand tangling in her hair.
His fingers joined hers as he tugged her closer and kissed her, short and sweet, enough to deepen her breathing. “I think it’s an excellent idea,” he said, not allowing her to look away.
“I don’t normally do what we were doing . . .” Her cheeks flamed as she admitted this.
He should stop now. He knew he wouldn’t, though.
“Come with me, Alyssa. I promise you won’t regret it,” he said, using his most persuasive voice.
“What time is it?” she asked.
That threw him off track. What did the time matter? Glancing at his phone, he looked back up. “Eight in the evening. We’re early.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve.”
“What does that matter?” He was confused.
“We’re in New York City on New Year’s Eve. I’m going to Times Square.” Her tone of voice told him that he could take it or leave it. She hadn’t said whether she would go with him to the hotel room, but he was more than happy he’d reserved the penthouse suite at the W Hotel, right on the square.
“That’s where the room is. Anyway, there’s no way you could get into Times Square at this hour, even if you wanted to—they closed it off early this afternoon. If you want to see the ball drop, your only option is a room with a view . . . and my view is excellent.”
Her eyes widened, and still she said nothing, which was making him practically twitch. When she was silent as he helped her gather her carry-on and the two of them stepped from the plane, he would have killed to know her thoughts.
“I’ve missed my connecting flight, but I really should see if there’s another one tonight,” she finally said, making his heart thud. She left him standing there as she went to a ticketing agent.
When she came back, she sported a smile on her face. “No flights tonight, and not even a fee for the rebooking. I don’t leave till tomorrow morning.” With that, she picked her bag back up and began heading toward the exit.
“Do you have bags?” he asked.
“Yes.” Without further words, they went to baggage claim. He wanted to demand to know her answer about the hotel room, but he wouldn’t beg, so he stood impatiently by her side as the baggage carousel turned.
It was another hour before they managed to get the bags through customs, and neither said a word the entire time. All he wanted to do was get her into his bed. He couldn’t possibly make small talk. Not with what he had planned for her this beautiful New Year’s.
“Do you want to watch the show, Alyssa?”
Jackson pulled her into his arms and gave her a look that could in no way be misinterpreted, but he wanted her sure before he had her all alone in his hotel room. Holding his breath, he waited for her answer.
As Jackson’s hands gripped her shoulders, a spark raced through her body. Hunger? Most certainly. But something . . . more. Something that made her want to retreat a step, made her want to shield herself.
J
ackson Whitman was a dangerous man. When their gazes collided, she didn’t know whether it was the spirit of the impending New Year or the magic of the moment, but suddenly he was leaning forward and she had no desire to escape. Her only desire was this.
Alyssa sank deeper and deeper into Jackson’s arms while he continued his expert assault on her lips. His hands glided across her back, and she embraced him tightly. Would one night of pleasure with this man be a good farewell to a crumbling career? Or the finishing touch to a very bad week?
Could she go through with a one-night stand? Could she really finish what they’d started just a few hours earlier? The way she felt right now, yes, she could, so she smiled, lifted her finger to his lips, and ran a long red nail along the moistness that was still clinging from their kiss.
“Are you coming back with me, Alyssa?”
“Yes,” she replied, her stomach tightening at what she was doing. If she went down this path, there was no going back. She could either try to get to Times Square on her own, then rush back to the airport for her morning flight, or go with him . . . Hell with it, this was New York City on New Year’s Eve. It wasn’t as if she’d ever see this man again. She could make a fool of herself and have no regrets.
Jackson moved immediately, taking her out front to where his car and driver waited. The streets would be crowded, traffic impossible to get through for people who wanted to stand around in Times Square, but they’d be at the hotel, a part of this fantastic city on this fantastic night—and they’d be alone.
Alyssa scooted inside the SUV, and though her nerves were unsettled, she still had no desire to back out—until she looked at the man she’d met just half a day earlier. And now some doubts began creeping in, sending alerts to her brain. This could be a serious mistake.
As if knowing her qualms, he reached out and pulled her to him. The second his hands circled her, pulled her on top of his lap, she knew she was right where she wanted to be. His mouth descended and all doubts disappeared.