"You make me feel dangerous," she admitted, her voice trembling. Not wanting the misunderstanding to lengthen, she smiled. "It's a little scary."
"Now you know how I've felt since we met." His hoarse voice scraped over her like sandpaper, leaving her tingling.
She extended her hand, wanting desperately to feel the warmth of his again. When his fingers tightened around hers, she continued. "I don't want our first time to be on this deck but if you do that again I can't be held responsible for my actions."
Jeff's eyes widened before he recovered enough to smile, though it was definitely not his usual self-assured grin. "On a deck at twilight? That would be a first for me."
She smiled— and damn it— began blushing. Would she ever learn to control it? "Maybe once it's really dark we could try something like that-"
"With you, I'm game for anything," he admitted. "But if you want to slow things down, then we slow down."
"If we take this inside right now— we might just make it upstairs to my bedroom." Marisol dragged in a much needed breath of oxygen, not caring that she probably sounded completely desperate. "But I don't hold out much hope of making it that far."
Jeff gathered her into his arms and carried her the few steps to the French doors. He set her down only briefly— to make sure the doors were locked. His gaze still locked on hers, she heard his breath hitch as she slowly undid the remaining buttons on her blouse. She watched it flutter to the floor. When she unclasped the front hook of her bra, her nerve endings were on sensory overload with the need to be touched.
On a groan, he released the breath he'd been holding. "Mari— you are so beautiful. You're perfect."
Taking a step back through the kitchen, she smiled. "I think you should know if you don't touch me soon, I'm going to scream."
He caught up to her in one step, pulling her back against him before dropping a kiss on her shoulder. His mouth was warm and insistent, sending shivers of exquisite sensation down her spine. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, capturing her breasts in his hands. As he began to stroke them, she moaned, the ragged, needy sound breaking the silence in the room. "Like this?"
Her head rested back against his shoulder. Standing there with him felt so right. Absorbing some of the powerful strength he exuded. His warm, wet tongue nuzzled the sensitized spot on her nape, his erection pressed hard against her back as he fondled her. She sagged against him. "Dios, Jefferson. Forget the bed. This hallway will work just fine."
Slowly turning her around to face him, he smiled that sexy, arrogant smile she'd grown to love. "Do you know what I like most about you?"
Intent on unbuttoning his shirt, she shook her head. "My wanton lack of control?" Mari sighed as she finally slid her hands inside his shirt, her fingers colliding with warm skin. His ropey muscles contracted under her touch. "Let's get this off."
Jeff groaned as she pressed herself against him. The skin on skin contact was almost too much to bear. She went to work on his belt, only pausing when he tipped her chin up so she was forced to stop what she was doing and look at him. "Why aren't you helping me? Is this what you mean by torture?"
He laughed as he bent to kiss her. "The thing I like most about you," he reminded, "is this incredible blush." When he caressed her cheeks with calloused thumbs, she shivered as sensation swept through her.
Despite the whirlwind of heat swirling around them, despite her need for more— more kisses, more touching, more everything— Mari frowned. "I'm standing here half naked, begging you to make love to me . . . and the thing you like is my blush?"
He nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. "All those weeks when I didn't know where I stood with you— I concentrated on what you were thinking, instead of what you said." Jeff brushed her cheeks again. "This always gave you away— and gave me hope."
If possible, her face heated even more. "So— I have no secrets from you?"
"I wouldn't go that far." He kissed the scowl from between her eyes. "But at least I knew to keep trying."
She pulled his head down for a long, wet, slightly frantic kiss. Her body was on auto-pilot now— and it was begging for relief from the slow, sweet torture Jefferson was putting her through. She felt him tighten as her nails scratched lightly over his sinewy biceps and she slid his shirt from his shoulders.
"Mari, love— we still have the stairs to get up."
"Later." She rained kisses on his face before she buried hers into his chest. "You smell so good. I promise we can go slow later."
Jeff staggered back a step, seeming dazed for a moment before twin flames ignited in his eyes and he accepted the challenge she'd thrown down. He made quick work of her shorts, taking a horrifically long time to tease them down her hips. His hands slid across overheated skin, dipping into her panties to torture her before retreating to tease her again. He actually grinned when her legs sagged against him.
"So beautiful. So sweet," he whispered, his voice growing more edgy with need as he touched her. His fingers danced between her legs yet again. "So wet for me."
"Please." She was panting now, needing Jeff Traynor more than any other thing on the planet. Needing him— all of him thrusting inside of her or she would not live another moment. If she'd been capable of thinking rationally, she would have wondered what had become of Marisol Ortega— the woman she had been before Jeff. Because that woman had never, ever before begged for sex. She'd had it, she'd enjoyed it, she'd even initiated it. But she'd never needed it— as though struggling for her next breath. That Marisol would have believed the desperate woman in this hallway was seriously loco.
***
"Easy, sweet." Jeff held her up as he unbuttoned his jeans, grateful he was able to kick them free as quickly as she demanded. He smiled over her husky plea to hurry, and again as she helped him tear open the condom. But his knees buckled when she took him in her hands to finish the job for him.
If it hadn't been so painful, Jeff wished he could freeze this moment and just spend it staring at her. Feasting on her. The gorgeous, sexy, amazing woman in his arms was close to coming undone and he hadn't really touched her yet. But he was damn sure going to be touching her all night. She’d been right about the first time— about not making it upstairs. He would explode if he didn't get inside her this very moment. "Mari, love— are you sure?"
"Maldita sea! I’ve been sure for days."
"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Grinning, he propped her against the wall near the stairs. She was kissing him with reckless abandon. He sunk in even deeper, satisfied when her groan of need matched his own. When he sucked on her tongue, her whimper of pleasure was a visceral hit straight to his gut. Her beautiful, perfect breasts swelled in his hands, the tight nub sensitized beyond reason to his touch. He wanted more. More everything. More Mari.
Heat swept over him in a way he'd never experienced before. One tiny brain cell wanted to analyze the wildfire, out-of-control feeling. But it was quickly overruled by the rest of him. The rest of him was prepared to be scorched. He'd never had to wait this long before— never had to earn the right to sleep with a woman. The wait was a perfectly logical reason why he was ready to leap into the deep end. Any guy who waited for a gorgeous, totally hot woman like Mari would be a little crazy when he finally got her.
When he couldn't bear the building pressure for another moment, he lifted her gently, pinning her back to the wall. He took one perfect breast into his mouth and was rewarded with a sob of pleasure. Her midnight hair was curly and untamed, her eyes unfathomably blue— and burning with passion for him. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Mari was out of control now, as wild and close to the edge as he felt. When he could stand it no longer, he entered her swiftly. Her low, satisfied groan was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. Unable to resist touching her, he pulled her from the wall, cupping her sweet butt in his hands. She locked her legs around him and it was the most powerful feeling he'd ever experienced. He wanted all of her. Thrusting into her again and ag
ain, each time she took him deeper. Jeff wished like hell he could make it last forever.
When her release swept over him, it was cataclysmic, rocking him to the core. She cried out his name, muttering in Spanish in that husky, sexy accent. She tightened around him, squeezing him, kissing him, gifting him with the most powerful orgasm he'd ever experienced. Her name was torn from his throat as he let himself rocket away from earth.
It took several minutes for her to stop trembling and for Jeff to reattach himself to his brain. When he regained consciousness, he opened his eyes. "Mari, sweet— are you alright?"
She released a shaky sigh, her body still slack in his arms. "Never better."
He buried his face in her throat and inhaled the sweet, spicy scent of her fragrance mingled with the heady scent of their joined bodies. The lethal combination was burned into his brain— like the jasmine in her yard. Her eyes were dazed and slumberous with satisfaction. Her overwhelmed expression was enough to make him hard again. Somewhere deep inside, he experienced a primitive stab of possessiveness. That expression— belonged to him.
Unsure what to make of the foreign feeling, Jeff shoved it aside. There would be plenty of time later for Monday morning quarterbacking. Much later. For now, he was going to enjoy every single moment of his time in paradise.
"You were right about us not making it upstairs." He released her gently, setting her back on her feet, waiting for her to stop swaying before he let go.
She smiled. "I knew exactly how I was feeling. I'm just glad you felt it, too." Without pausing to retrieve their clothes, she roped her fingers through his. "Come on. I'll show you the upstairs. Perhaps after the tour we can try to make it back down for dinner before midnight."
He watched her gorgeous butt sway up the stairs in front of him and felt himself tighten all over again. Blazing hot sex halfway up the stairs was increasingly likely. But dinner before midnight? Highly questionable.
***
Several hours later, Jeff's stomach growled as he was propped up on one elbow watching her. Even as she slept, Mari was beautiful. Sifting silky, dark chocolate curls through his fingers, he admired the cute sprinkle of freckles fanned across her nose, guessing she got those from her mother's side of the family.
Her bedroom, like the rest of her house was sparse, functional, yet still warm and feminine. There was no clutter on the bureau, no piles of clothes or messy jewelry boxes. Her room reminded him of an oasis— her bed was comfortable, the pillows even more so, the colors soothing and somewhat tropical. Jeff liked being there. Though he probably wouldn't spend the night, he didn't think he'd mind sleeping there— should he ever decide to bend one of his rules.
That alone was revelation enough to accelerate his heartbeat from its deeply relaxed state. Just because he'd enjoyed several rounds of the most amazing sex of his life wasn't reason enough to start randomly chucking rules out the window.
"Has a ferocious beast taken up residence?" Turning her head on the pillow, Mari opened her eyes. "Or could that possibly be your stomach?"
He felt a punch of heat when her gorgeous turquoise eyes locked with his. Not for the first time tonight, he wondered what the hell was happening to him. Unlike most dates, he didn't feel restless— as though the evening was pretty much over and it was time to head home. Usually, Jeff couldn’t wait to get back to his place where he could collapse in his own bed and not worry whether he was hogging the sheets or taking too much space. Where he could wake up the next morning satisfied from decent sex, yet refreshed because he was finally alone again.
He'd always viewed it as his way of beating the system. Because he didn't have to make small talk. He didn't have to shower in a strange bathroom that was cluttered with makeup and stupid girly soaps and female junk that took up way too much space.
"Does this mean you’re finally ready for the spice part of the evening?"
Sliding back under the covers, he kissed every one of the cute freckles he'd been admiring. "I thought we'd been experiencing the spice part— for the last four hours."
Her eyes widened in mock innocence. "You haven't experienced anything yet. We need to fire up the grill before we starve to death up here."
He raised an eyebrow. "It is dark enough now for us to spend some quality time out on that deck." Recalling her suggestion that they make love out there, he hoped for another fiery blush as a reward.
Her sweet, talented mouth split with a smile, revealing even, white teeth that appeared more so against her soft, honeyed skin. Even now, Jeff found himself a little dazzled by her beauty. Mari didn't even have to try hard and she stole his breath.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" She pushed back the covers and stretched. "I'm starving."
He watched her cross the room, her naked body lithe and golden in the light spilling in from the hallway. And grew hard as he watched her slip on a tee shirt. Seriously? What was it about this woman that made him so crazy— so desperate for more?
"I'm going to take a quick shower. Then we can light the grill and finally cook our dinner." Crossing to the doorway, Marisol was oblivious to his suddenly red alert body.
Jeff rose from the bed in search of his clothes, finally remembering how they'd been urgently discarded at the bottom of the stairs. Hearing the shower start as he entered the hallway, he paused on the top step. The water changed patterns as it connected with all that gorgeous skin. Hesitating only a moment, he turned in the opposite direction and made his way to the bathroom.
Admiring her through the frosted glass of the shower stall, his heart flipped over in his chest as she soaped the curviest body he’d ever seen. When Mari noticed him standing there, she opened the shower door, a beguiling smile on her face.
"Mind if I join you? I'm suddenly very hot again."
She smiled again as water splashed over them, her eyelashes spiked together as though she'd been caught in a summer rainstorm. "It will be a tight fit. Old houses like this don't offer much assistance."
"We'll make it work." Crowding into the space with her, Jeff couldn’t wait to kiss her senseless. The hitch in Mari’s breath stole his own. The feel of her slippery body gliding against his was impossibly, amazingly good. "God— you feel unbelievable."
The fleeting worry he'd experienced in the hallway left him. This thing with Mari was a novelty. Once the magnetic attraction wore off— once the sex settled into a more predictable pattern— he'd be fine. He'd be back in control. He'd be able to resist her. Hell- he'd probably grow bored, as he always did.
The only real difference with Marisol was that he liked her. A lot. They'd become friends. And he liked Hector.
But as he lifted her beautiful body, as he anchored her against the shower wall, the water beat down on them in a relentless, crashing wave. Jeff entered her with a groan of pure male satisfaction. As he thrust into her in a mindless haze of raw pleasure, a tiny fraction of his brain grew more alarmed. As her nails scored his shoulders, his eyes sought hers— wanting more than anything to see what he did to her— wanting her to know what she was doing to him. When her release contracted around him, Jeff could only mutter her name, coming with a fierce violence he'd never experienced before.
And he knew.
This was dangerously different. Marisol was different.
While part of him wanted to shout with pleasure over the new, exciting feeling— another part wanted to run for cover. Because the overwhelming mess of feelings— uncertainty— confusion would swamp him. Expose him. Leaving him vulnerable in a way he'd sworn never to allow.
Jeff didn't want the perfect relationship. He didn't want to meet the love of his life. He'd never wanted anything that came close to mimicking his parents’ relationship. He didn't want a woman who would become his best friend . . . his lifeline. Or the years spent together raising a family. And he sure as hell didn't want the wrenching, horrible end to all that happiness. The end that would occur for no discernible reason. An end that would roar upon him like a locomotive and flatten him. As
his parents' marriage had.
As he held her, Mari shuddered in his arms, her eyes revealing satisfaction . . . and something else. Vulnerability? Confusion? He kissed her gently as they both recovered, his soap-slicked hands still trembling as he stroked the length of her magnificent spine. And he tried like hell not to be terrified by what was happening to him.
***
Jefferson was already different. Mari stole another glance at him while he sipped his beer and gazed out at the night sky. They'd eaten grilled shrimp by the dozen, laughing over their ferocious hunger. They'd drunk wine, they'd talked about everything and nothing. To an untrained eye, his smile was still cocky, his words still light. But he was different.
She didn't know whether to be upset by the change or relieved. For she had gone into the evening with eyes wide open. Between her pep talk with Sharon and her own raging desire to finally take the next step with him, Marisol had prepared herself for better or worse— mostly for worse. She had tried to set her expectations as low as possible so she wouldn't be disappointed.
She smiled over the revelation. Her expectation had been for one amazing night with Jefferson Traynor. And she'd received it.
"What are you smiling about?" Jeff had lowered his gaze from the sky to stare at her.
"You. This incredible night." She could afford to be honest with him. Unlike Nick— at least Jeff's behavior was predictable. Could she truly fault him for acting the way she'd known he would? "I've had a great time with you, Jeff. Probably the best date ever."
"Let's do it again sometime," he suggested, beautiful eyes heating. "I know with Hector in the picture, you probably don't get the chance to go a little crazy very often. So, I'm glad it was with me."
"Me, too." Despite her desire for a playful facade, her heart beat a little faster. This was the hard part— the 'after', when he would turn polite . . . acting as though what they'd shared had just been a typical Friday night. Hell— for him, it probably had.
Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) Page 12