RightMoves

by Ava McKnight

  My cheeks burned the rest of the evening, as I was certain everyone knew what we’d been up to earlier. Jack didn’t seem to notice the lingering glances and knowing smiles, or perhaps he just didn’t care what anyone had to say about our romantic interlude. He appeared perfectly content with not only showing me off, but also staying close to me, which sent out its own message. I was his.

  The thought caused of shiver of delight to chase down my spine.

  Jack leaned in close and asked, “Are you cold?”

  I had a difficult time keeping my smile from being a beaming, radiant one. I’d already given away too much to this crowd. I didn’t need to share my absolute delirium with them. “No, I’m fine.”

  We enjoyed the rest of the evening together, with the party winding down around one a.m. When the last guest left, I started to tidy up.

  Jack took my hand and said, “The catering staff will clean. Come with me.”

  We walked down a long hallway to a room he’d not shown me on our tour. It was a study of sorts, with bookcases and a tall fireplace lining the back wall. A grand piano sat diagonal in the far corner and a plush white sectional took up a good portion of the room, sitting in the center, facing the windows.

  I sank into a plump cushion and slipped off my sandals as Jack settled at the piano and played a short version of Hakuna Matata from the Lion King.

  I laughed as he polished it off with a flourish and then stood and gave me a regal bow.

  “That’s the only song I know how to play, by the way.”

  Smiling at him, I asked, “Are you good at everything you do?”

  His expression was still playful, but with a hint of seriousness around the fringes. “I don’t know,” he said as he strolled over to the sectional and sat beside me. “Am I good at everything I do?”

  Heat flared inside me and my inner thighs quivered not just from his words, but from his closeness. His fingers swept strands of hair from my neck and he placed a kiss below my ear, in that ultrasensitive spot we’d discovered this evening.

  “Yes,” I said, instantly breathless. “You are good at everything you do. Particularly everything you do to me.”

  “Mm,” he muttered against my skin as he continued to kiss my neck. “There’s so much more I want to do to you.”

  I swear, I felt the earth quake around us. I wound my arms around his neck as he eased me down onto the sofa. When his mouth covered mine, I lost myself in his kiss. It was a scorcher like all the rest, but it packed a more powerful punch following all the things he’d said to me this evening, especially about staying with him. He didn’t hold back when it came to expressing his feelings or telling me exactly what he wanted.

  The fact that he wanted me was astounding enough. That he backed up those words with his actions made me believe in them. I believed in him.

  His hard body against mine as he settled partially on top of me and partially alongside me on the spacious couch felt so wonderful I tightened my hold on him. I loved having him crushed to me, despite the fact that my nerves prickled with that fear that nothing was permanent. He wanted me tonight, for the weekend. To become so enthralled with his words and his kisses and his touch was dangerous for a girl like me. Yet if I let my fear win, I never would have experienced—nor would I continue to experience—these incredible moments with Jack. And that was a more tragic thought than eventually losing him.

  Missing out on even one of his kisses would be a travesty.

  He made my point for me as he deepened the kiss and I felt its effects to the very depths of my soul. I unraveled one arm from his neck and gripped a fistful of my skirt, yanking it up as I lifted my hips so I could free my legs from the confines of the material. I parted my thighs as I coaxed Jack to lie fully on top of me. His weight and rigid muscles surrounding me gave me the sense of being wrapped in a protective cocoon. The fact that the cozy embrace was also an exciting one had my heart pounding in wicked beats.

  My fingers burned to touch his skin and I worked the hem of his shirt from the waist of his pants. He propped himself up on an elbow as I all but ripped the buttons from their holes while he still kissed me. My hand pressed to his chiseled chest and I found a new kind of heaven. I lightly massaged the tight muscle, then scraped a fingernail over his pebbled nipple. His body jerked in response, his pelvis pushing down on me, his erection rubbing against my crotch through our clothing. I chose to remedy that situation expeditiously.

  I unfastened his belt and pants and we both worked the material down his long legs. He was out of his clothing in seconds and helped me with my dress. He retrieved a condom from his pants pocket and winked at me.

  “I like the way you think, Jack Reed,” I said once again.

  He gave me that sexy grin that completely did me in. Before he opened the foil packet, I shifted off the sectional and knelt between his parted legs.

  “I don’t have much experience with this,” I told him as I eyed his thick cock and tentatively wrapped my fingers around the shaft. “So feel free to give me guidance.”

  His chuckle was a strained one. “Something tells me that’s not going to be necessary, sweetheart.”

  I hoped he was right. I let instinct—and lust—take over as I bent my head to him and ran my tongue along his smooth skin from base to tip. He let out a low groan that encouraged me. I did the same move on the other side of his shaft and was rewarded with a very sexy grunt. Feeling bold and daring, I ran my tongue along the underside of his head and then across the top. His fingers twisted in my hair, then deftly worked the clasp that held the strands bundled at my nape. He fluffed the long curls and then plowed his fingers through them again as my mouth closed over his tip.

  “Claire,” he whispered as I took him as deep as possible. Having him in my mouth elicited a completely different type of sexual euphoria. Just as thrilling as every other thing we’d experienced together—maybe even more so because I was pleasuring him, when he’d spent so much time previously giving me everything I needed.

  I pulled back slightly and sucked hard, making him gasp. Then I went a step further and brushed my fingers over his balls. This seemed to turn him on even more as his fingers tightened, then instantly loosened around my curls, as though he’d lost a moment of composure when I’d touched him.

  Pleased by the response I evoked, I ran the backs of my fingers across the sensitive sac and then gently palmed it. As I did this, I drew his cock deep into my mouth again.

  I felt a shudder run through him seconds before he placed his hands on my shoulder and said, “Okay, you’ve proved your point.”

  Releasing him, I stared up at him and asked in a deceptively sweet tone, “And what point might that be?”

  He hauled me up and onto his lap as he said, “That you can make me hard with just a kiss and make me come with a different kind of kiss.”

  The look he gave me was dark and intense and sexy as hell.

  “I was just experimenting,” I told him as my lips grazed his temple. “Something I am more than willing to do with you.”

  “Believe me, I’m not complaining. But I’d rather be inside you when I come.”

  How could I possibly argue with that logic?

  I picked up the condom he’d dropped on the cushion next to him and tore the packet open. I moved slightly off his lap so I could roll the latex down his shaft, with a little help again, because I was apparently taking too much time for my impatient lover. I giggled softly as he clasped my hips and guided me forward. The tip of his cock nestled my opening for the briefest of moments before he urged me downward and plunged inside me, providing instant relief for the need coursing through my body. Conversely, the tight grip on my hips and the sharp grunt from Jack created a different kind of need that was much darker and racier than anything I’d ever known or expected.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck as we fell into a quick, heady pace that turned my breathing into short, erratic pants and moans. My body moved in ways I wasn’t at all familiar with, my
hips bucking and rolling as my pussy clutched and released his cock.

  Jack’s hands swept over my back, up to my shoulders and then down again. His touch was as arousing as his lovemaking. Our lips tangled and teased, erotic little kisses that were exciting even though they weren’t full-blown lip-locks. Neither one of us had our breathing under control enough to engage in all-consuming kisses.

  As he thrust up into me, he palmed a breast and squeezed it, then toyed with the nipple. He eased me slightly away from him and I loosened my grip around his neck. His other hand slipped between us and he used the pad of his thumb to stimulate my clit as I rode his cock. My head feel back on my shoulders as the sensations swelled within me and I barreled toward an explosive climax.

  “Come with me,” I urged, wanting desperately to share this moment with him.

  He said, “God, Claire. You push me right to the edge.”

  “So fall over with me.”

  The words barely left my mouth when he thrust hard and I cried out as glorious sensations rocketed through my body. I squeezed him tight and Jack groaned.

  “You are so tight. Jesus.” Then I felt a tremor ripple through his body and he thrust one more time before he said my name on a sharp breath and he came inside me.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, as we lay sprawled along the sectional, legs entwined, I mulled over the words he’d said after the first time we’d made love. I had stayed the night and was contemplating staying the weekend, as he’d requested. I had no idea how that might play out or if it would be more detrimental to me in the end, but I continued to hold fast to that optimism I’d embraced before starting out on this new and exciting adventure with Jack.

  As I mentally assured myself the condo cleaning and grocery shopping could wait until Monday, since I wouldn’t even be home…and I didn’t really need a change of clothes if we stayed naked most of the weekend, the phone rang.

  I was snuggled close to Jack, my head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest. He stirred beside me and then reached over his head for the phone on the end table. “That’ll be my mother,” he said in his sexy, sleepy tone. He hit the speaker button and said, in the same languid voice, “Hello?”

  “Jack, dear, it’s Mom. Did I wake you?”

  Her voice was lovely. Soothing and maternal and full of pride. It made tension skitter through me.

  “Yes, but no worries. Big party last night.”

  “I remember you mentioning it last week. Did your friend make it?”

  “Mm-hmm. She’s still here, in fact. Say hi.”

  “Hello, Claire.”

  She knew my name. She knew Jack had invited me and that he had…whatever sort of feelings for me. This was evident because she didn’t have the least bit of tentativeness or shyness in her voice. In fact, she still had that proud tone, like she was not only pleased with her son’s professional success, but that things had turned out his way romantically as well. She clearly adored him and wanted him to fulfill his heart’s desire. And she was genuinely nice to me, without even knowing me. That spoke volumes about how much she trusted her son’s judgment.

  Emotion swelled in my throat and I barely got out the words, “Hello, Mrs. Reed.”

  “Call me Nancy, dear. Will we be seeing you tomorrow for dinner?”

  “I haven’t asked her yet, Mom.” He lifted a brow as I stared at him. “You game?” He directed the question to me.

  I didn’t know what to say. A sharp pain in my chest, like knitting needles being stabbed into my heart, made me pull the throw around my body and climb out of bed.

  To his mother, Jack said, “She’ll have to check her schedule. I’ll call you back.”

  He didn’t follow me into the bathroom, giving me the space I needed. I closed the door to the water closet and sat on the lid of the toilet as tears sprang to my eyes and I launched into a body-racking crying jag.

  I missed having a mom. It was that simple. I missed being part of a family.

  I understood this was my chance to rectify my predicament, but the sadness I felt was overwhelming and riddled with an even far worse emotion—anger. I’d spent so many years blaming myself for not being lovable that I had completely overlooked how angry I actually was with both of my parents. But I was also angry with myself for letting someone else’s shortcomings inhibit me.

  My mother had chosen a different life. One that didn’t include me or my father. He, in turn, had buried his head in the sand. And I had shut all the doors surrounding me, cutting off friends and making very few new ones over the years.

  How much had I missed in life?

  Loads.

  How much did I regret that?

  I couldn’t even begin to quantify my remorse.

  But Jack had opened my eyes and my heart. I was not fool enough to dismiss that or him.

  So when he finally came to check on me, I wiped away the tears, opened the door and said, “Dinner with your parents would be lovely.”

  But what a can of worms that opened…

  * * * * *

  On Monday, I realized the breakthrough I’d made with my abandonment issues was only the beginning. I had several other obstacles to hurdle. The first one presented itself when a magnificent bouquet of flowers arrived at the office. The enormous crystal vase sat on the corner of my desk, the arrangement emitting a vibrant fragrance that transformed our small newsroom into a lush garden.

  The card included was short and sweet. “See me soon!! Love, J.”

  The word “soon” was underlined twice. I couldn’t hold back my grin, which drew Giselle to me as much as the ostentatious flowers did.

  She perched herself on the opposite corner of my desk. “Who are they from?”

  The sparkle in her dark-blue eyes prompted me to admit, “I spent the weekend with Jack Reed.”

  Her squeal of delight had Cherish and Taylor rushing over. The old Claire Williams would have shooed them away in embarrassment and uncertainty, but the new Claire Williams gave them all the details. Well…most of the details. Some things were best left between Jack and me.

  After dishing with the other writers—and learning I liked a little girly gossip every now and then—I sidled up to Pete at the copier.

  “How about a drink sometime?”

  He eyed me curiously. “I’m married, Claire.” He flashed his ring as I laughed.

  “Not that kind of drink. Happy hour. You know, like a coworkers get-together? We could talk about photography. I have an interest in it and I could use some tips, if you’re willing to share.”

  He continued to stare at me as though I’d lost my mind—or he’d lost his and was imagining me being social with him. Finally, he said, “That’d be cool.”

  “Great!”

  Given the strides I’d made, I considered opening another door. Jack had inspired me to let people in, and what I discovered as I looked around the newsroom was that I’d sort of thought of myself as an orphan all these years, but I actually had a little family of my own here at the magazine. I’d been the black sheep, of course. I no longer wanted that to be the case.

  I knocked softly on Melodie Hartman’s office door and then stepped inside when she invited me in. Melodie was a petite redhead of forty-two. She owned the magazine and I knew it was her lifeblood in more ways than just monetarily.

  I said, “I’m not sure how to tactfully put this, so I’m just going to blurt it out.” I wrung my hands over the huge decision I was instantly making, but this wasn’t exactly a new idea I was tossing her way. I’d thought of it several times this past year. I just hadn’t had the nerve to follow through with the notion that had been percolating in my mind, because it reeked of permanence and stability, the very two concepts I’d banished to the far recesses of my mind. A safety mechanism of sorts.

  But playing it safe had left me stagnant. Jumping off cliffs, on the other hand, had thus far enriched my life. So I stepped right to the precipice, even though it made my pulse quicken.

  “I kn
ow the magazine is struggling,” I told her. “I wonder if you’d consider a silent partner. I don’t want to take over management of the magazine or run it—I’m not a numbers girl. I’m a writer. But I have the capital and I love working here. So does everyone else. If I can help keep the business afloat while we try to reel in more readers and advertisers, it’d mean a lot to me.”

  She appeared as stunned as Pete. I let her process for a few moments, then added, “It’s a lot to think about. Just know that I’m not looking to take control of anything, I just want to help us all out. Give it some thought and, if you’re interested, I’m sure we can work something out.”

  I turned to go, but she stopped me at the door. “I’m definitely interested.”

  Whirling around, I said, “Wonderful!” Excited, I clapped my hands together. I’d no idea until this very second how much I wanted this not just for Melodie, but for everyone at the magazine, including myself. “I think we’re headed in the right direction with these new sports articles, and the others are willing to do whatever they can to build our readership.”

  “I don’t want to lose the magazine or any of you,” Melodie said, clearly fighting to keep the emotion from her voice. I’d always admired her professionalism, but now I understood I’d also appreciated the pride she’d felt toward our work and the compassion she’d extended to her employees. “This is home for all of us.”

  Precisely what I’d come to realize.

  Fighting back a prickle of emotion myself, I said, “I’ll have my lawyer call yours. We’ll figure out what needs to be done to get the magazine back on its feet.”

  “Claire.” She stood and opened her arms as she walked toward me. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  Her embrace came unexpectedly. I didn’t inspire affectionate gestures. At least, the old Claire didn’t. I hugged her back because I discovered I liked mixing camaraderie with business.

  When she pulled away, she beamed brightly. “Now where’s my feature on ProAth?”

  I laughed. “On your desk in ten minutes.”