by Julie James
Cameron started to answer when Collin held up a hand, cutting her off. “Ahem. Since no one asked me to give a toast at this wedding, I will handle this question. Besides, I tell this story better than you do.”
Collin sat forward in his chair, lowering his voice dramatically. “It was a dark and stormy night.”
Cameron rolled her eyes. “Oh boy.”
Collin held up his hands. “What? It was a dark and stormy night. I should know—I walked you home that evening, remember?” He turned back to Jack. “It was our sophomore year. I was living in my fraternity house and had been having a rough time of things in college, struggling with the issue of whether I was gay. I was at Michigan on a baseball scholarship and homosexuality was not something one discussed casually within the athletic circles. Anyway, one night early in the year, my fraternity had an after-hours party and it was pouring outside. I was hanging out by the front door, drinking my usual—which back then was Jim Beam and Coke—when Cameron blew in, huddled under a red umbrella with Amy and another girl. They were all laughing, and when they closed the umbrella, Cameron stepped into the room and shook out her hair. It was like something out of a movie—she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”
Jack toyed with his silverware. This story could go south very quickly . . . When his hand came to rest on his steak knife, this may or may not have been merely a coincidence.
“So I struck up a conversation with her and we hit it off right away,” Collin continued. “We started meeting up after classes, on the weekends, and I knew that this was it: if it was ever going to work with a woman, she was the one. A couple weeks later, we were hanging out in my room on a Saturday night and I had it all planned out—that was the night I was going to make my move.
“We were sitting on my couch listening to the radio—it was an eighties flashback night—and ‘Bette Davis Eyes’ came on. And Cameron sighed and rested her head against the back of the couch and said, ‘I like this song.’”
Cameron cut in here. “Then you inched closer to me and turned your face to mine. And you said, ‘I like this song, too.’”
“And I knew that was the moment,” Collin said. “So I leaned over and kissed her.”
Cameron took her hand off Jack’s thigh and removed the steak knife that mysteriously had made its way into his grip. He threw her an innocent look. Like he would ever harm one precious hair on Collin’s head . . . with witnesses around.
Nearing the climax of his story—for his sake, hopefully only in the literary sense—Collin continued. “The kiss went on for a bit, and I’m telling myself, ‘Okay, maybe this is actually working.’ So I pull back to see if she’s into it, and she gazes up at me with sort of an amused expression and says . . .” He gestured to Cameron.
“‘I’ve licked stamps who were more excited than you by that kiss.’”
Jack burst out laughing.
Collin shook his head with a grin. “I know, right? Jack, I’m telling you—I was crushed. But only for a moment, because then she reached up and held my face between her hands and said, ‘Collin—we’re friends, right?’ And I knew, even after only a few weeks, that this was a person who was going to be a very important part of my life. So I nodded yes, and she says, ‘Good. Then listen to me: you need to get over yourself and just admit you’re gay.’”
Collin looked at Cameron. “Hearing it said so matter-of-factly like that was liberating. So the next day, I decided to go to a very different type of after-hours party, on the other side of campus. And I kissed a guy for the first time.”
“Patrick,” Cameron said.
“You remember.”
“Of course I remember.”
Collin smiled. “And when I got home that night, she was the first person I called to tell about it.”
Cameron covered his hand with hers. “You’re right. You do tell that story better than me.”
“I like it,” said a voice from behind them. “I’ve never heard it before.”
Jack instinctively rested his hand on the harness under his suit as the three of them watched a blond, athletically built man in a well-cut suit approach their table.
Collin, who appeared shocked, was the first to speak. “Richard.”
Jack relaxed, recognizing the name. The ex-boyfriend who’d refused to come to the wedding.
“What are you doing here?” Collin asked him.
Richard’s face momentarily filled with emotion at the sight of Collin, then he collected himself and checked out the reception. “So this is Michigan. Not bad.”
There was an awkward pause as Collin remained silent. Richard shifted nervously.
Jack whispered in Cameron’s ear. “Why don’t we go dance?”
“I think that’s a great idea,” she said.
They said quick hellos to Richard before heading over to the dance floor to give them some space. Cameron glanced over her shoulder, and Jack’s eyes followed hers and saw that Richard had taken the seat next to Collin and appeared to be doing most of the talking. Collin was at least listening, however, and at one point he rested his hand on the back of Richard’s chair. Cameron smiled at the sight and turned back to Jack.
He led her toward the far corner of the dance floor, where he could be alone with her while keeping his eye on everyone else. Taking her hand in his, Jack pulled Cameron into his arms. He held her close with his other hand on her bare lower back as they began to dance. They fit perfectly together; in her high-heeled shoes, the top of her head came right to his chin.
“Thank you for this. For everything. I wouldn’t have had this night if it wasn’t for you,” she said.
“I’m just sorry we couldn’t be here under different circumstances.”
“If there were different circumstances, you wouldn’t be here at all.” She shifted closer to him. “I’m glad you were the one who walked into my hotel room that night, Jack.”
He smiled. “What a change—two weeks ago you hated pretty much everything about me walking into that room.”
“That conversation would go a lot differently if we had it now. For starters . . . I don’t think there’d be much actual conversation,” she said in a throaty voice.
Jack’s eyes bored into hers. “I’m at the edge, Cameron. Tread cautiously.”
She shook her head, no. “I think it’s time for us to leave this wedding.”
“If we go now, there’s no coming back. You’re mine all night.”
Her eyes flashed. “Promise?”
That was it.
Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her off the dance floor, toward the main entrance of the tent. He stopped before Agent Rawlings, who had been posted there all evening.
“We’re heading back to the room,” Jack said. “You and O’Donnell should keep watch over the Tower lobby—both the elevators and the emergency stairwell.” He led Cameron out of the tent. The white runner went one direction, but he took her across the lawn toward the Tower. And their room.
Cameron threw him a look. “Nice. Rawlings probably knows exactly what we’re going to do.”
“Cameron, with the way you look tonight, every man at this wedding knows exactly what I plan to do with you.”
“Wow, that may be the sexiest thing any man has ever—shit—I’m ruining my heels in this grass. I keep sinking in.”
Without breaking stride, Jack lifted her into his arms and carried her.
“I could’ve just taken the shoes off,” Cameron said with a smile.
“I’m not wasting time while you undo those damn straps.”
He got her inside the Tower lobby, set her down, and led her into an elevator. He pushed the button for their floor. The minute the elevator doors shut, she reached for him. Jack caught her hands and spun her around, her back against his chest.
“Not yet, baby,” he said huskily in her ear. “I need to get you into that room safely.” He held her hands tightly, doubting he could take it if she so much as touched him. She pressed back and rubbed her just-out-of
-sight ass teasingly against him.
Son of a bitch. Jack growled low in his throat. He thought about hitting the emergency stop button, pushing up her dress, and taking her right there in the elevator. And as much as he throbbed at the wanton image of her standing in her heels, bracing herself against the wall and moaning his name as he took her from behind, that was not the way things were going to happen for their first time together.
He bent his head and kissed the base of her throat, not trusting himself to get any closer to her mouth. He could feel her quick pulse underneath his lips. “Remember how I said I was in charge? That includes tonight, Cameron.”
With a sly smile, she closed her eyes, tilting her neck to give him better access. “We’ll see about that.”
They would see, Jack agreed. The minute they got into that room.
The elevator sounded, indicating they had arrived at their floor. The doors sprang open and he smacked Cameron lightly on the ass to get her moving.
Twenty-five
AS THEY HURRIED through the hallway, Cameron’s body tingled with anticipation. Jack had barely touched her, and she was already completely turned on.
He unlocked the door and let them into their room, tossing the key on the desk in the corner. As he did his usual check, Cameron noticed that housekeeping had turned down the beds and had left the lights on dim. She set her purse on the nightstand.
She turned to face him when he finished, thinking that if he didn’t kiss her soon she might suffocate from all the sexual tension in the air.
She expected him to pounce and throw her onto the closest bed.
He didn’t.
Jack folded his arms across his chest. “So I’ve been thinking about your Walls of Jericho. Actually not so much about the wall, but about the other part. Where I show you how a man undresses.”
The temperature in the room rose so fast the glass on the television fogged.
Cameron exhaled. “All right. I’m watching.”
First, Jack took off the jacket of his suit, exposing his gun harness. He quickly removed that as well and set it on the desk. His hands moved to his tie. He loosened the knot and pulled it off, and Cameron had to fight the urge to storm over and yank the rest of his clothes off him.
There was a glint in his eyes as he made no move to undress further. “Sorry, but this is the twenty-first century version.”
“What happens in the twenty-first century version?”
“You lose the dress.”
Well, then.
“There’s not much underneath,” she said. She’d had little choice with the way the dress was cut.
“I’m counting on that.”
Cameron reached for the zipper that ran along one side and inched it down. Without dropping Jack’s gaze, she then untied the halter around her neck. The dress fell in a pool at her feet. She faced him wearing nothing but her black silk thong panties.
And of course, her high heels.
Her nipples tightened in the cool air of the hotel room. Or maybe it was just Jack’s look.
Lust clouded his eyes as he took in every inch of her, and she had never felt more sexy—and bold—than she did right then.
“Your turn,” she said.
He undid the buttons on his shirt and peeled it off, revealing a tight white T-shirt that showed off his firm chest muscles.
Cameron was aching to get her hands on him. As if sensing this, he crossed the room. Her pulse skyrocketed as he approached, yet he still didn’t touch her.
“Now you,” he said.
She reached up and removed the antique-silver chandelier earrings Amy had picked for her, dropping them to the floor beside the dress.
“That’s cheating,” Jack said.
“You have four times the clothing on that I do.”
With one swift tug, he yanked his T-shirt over his head. “Better?”
Hell . . . yes.
Cameron took her time, savoring the sight. The hard muscles . . . the tight, six-pack abs . . . the light scattering of dark hair on his chest. . . . She wanted to taste every inch of him.
Then, briefly coming out of her daze, she noticed something else. Of course.
She had forgotten about the scars.
Three years ago she had read the files that contained a very detailed report of the hell that Martino’s men had put Jack through during the two days they’d held him captive. But she hadn’t thought about the physical scars that kind of hell would’ve left behind.
Her eyes took in the cigarette and electrical burns by his right shoulder, moved to the knife wounds along his side and under his ribs, then came to a stop on the quarter-sized circular scar high on the left side of his chest—from the bullet he had taken when making his escape.
Cameron raised her eyes to Jack’s. He was watching her carefully, to see her reaction.
She stepped forward and rested her hands on his chest. She gently kissed the scars on his shoulder. She did the same to the one on his chest, and after that bent down to run her lips over the scars under his ribs and along his side. Then, unable to help herself, she ran her tongue along the soft trail of hair that started at his navel and disappeared behind his belt buckle.
Jack pulled her up and stared into her eyes with a ferocity that would’ve scared her under any other circumstance. He guided her backward, and when she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her knees she needed no encouragement to lie down on top of it.
“You still have a lot more clothing on than I do,” Cameron said, rising onto her elbows.
“I can fix that.”
She watched as Jack undid his belt buckle, then the button on his pants. His eyes feasted on the sight of her lying on the bed before him as he unzipped his fly. She caught a brief glimpse of gray boxer-briefs just before he slid them off with his pants, socks, and shoes. Then he stood before her in all his glory.
She would never, ever compare him to a molten lava cake again. After seeing Jack’s naked body, all other delicacies were henceforth ruined for her.
Of course, her eyes were drawn to that part of him, the part that was big and hard and raring to go. All for her.
Jack climbed onto the bed, and she lay back. His dark, fiery gaze made her shiver with anticipation, yet he still didn’t touch her.
He nodded to her near-naked body. “You choose what’s next.”
Did he want her to beg? Because she was nearly at that point. “God, Jack . . . touch me . . .”
He smiled.
He was the devil.
“Choose,” he repeated.
“I’ll keep the shoes,” Cameron said defiantly.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” His hands moved to her hips and tugged her panties down her legs and over her shoes. Then his mouth started at her knee and slowly made the opposite journey, up her thigh, along her hip, her stomach, the V between her breasts, her neck, and swept down on her mouth. She moaned, finally able to kiss him. His arm slid under her back, and he pulled her up so that she was sitting on his legs, straddling his hips.
“You’re so beautiful, Cameron,” he said, running his finger along the side of her face. “Despite everything that happened, over the last three years there were so many times I would lay in bed at night, thinking about you.”
“What did you think about?” she asked, sliding her hands up his chest.
“Doing this.” He pulled her breast into his mouth. His tongue glided over the tip in a wet, silken caress, and he licked and sucked until she thought she’d go crazy. Then he moved to the other one, her nipple already hard and tight, begging for his touch. Gently cupping her breast, he drew the rosy peak into his mouth.
She started to rock on his lap, desperate for more. While his mouth continued its assault on her breasts, he slid his hands around her hips. One hand cupped her bottom while the other slid between their bodies. His fingers stroked their way to the core of her, opening the soft, wet folds. When he found the center, he teased her with his thumb, massaging back and
forth until she was shaking. He slid a finger into her, and then another, and she gasped as his fingers slowly drew in and out, and again, finding a rhythm that nearly sent her over. She cupped his face and pulled him up, kissing him hotly.
As his tongue tangled with hers, she slid her hand down his chest, past his stomach and lower, where her fingers found him hard and throbbing. She wrapped her hand around the thick shaft, reveling in the sudden catch in his breath.
She began stroking him. “Did you think about this when you used to lay awake at night?” She ran her thumb over the engorged head in smooth circles.
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Fuck, yes . . .”
She slid her hand down to the base and cupped him as she whispered in his ear. “Did you think about me using my mouth, too?”
“Christ,” Jack muttered, and before Cameron knew it she was on her back with him kneeling between her legs. He yanked off her shoes before she could protest.
“As hot as those pointy heels are, I’ve got enough scars on my body,” he told her, his breath quick.
“I’ve got condoms in my nightstand,” Cameron said, so ready she was practically panting.
“So do I. Many.”
“Let’s get one of them. Now.”
Jack reached over and yanked the drawer open, nearly pulling it off the track. He quickly found what he was looking for, and the sound of a wrapper being ripped open was music to Cameron’s ears.
“Let me put it on you,” she said urgently.
“If you do, this might all be over before we get started.”
The sight of him rolling on the condom got her even more worked up and she began arching her hips, needing him. “Jack . . .”
He moved over her. He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. “I’m right here,” he soothed in her ear. She felt him between her legs, hot and hard and ready. He inched into her slowly, filling her.
“Spread your legs, baby—let me in,” he urged. She did, and he moved deeper into her, then deeper still, and began a slow, tortuous rhythm. He held one of her hips with his free hand, gliding in and out as he pinned her to the bed. She took his achingly smooth thrusts again and again, and he brought her right to the edge, then backed away, holding her suspended there for what seemed like an eternity. She moaned his name, frantic to touch him, but he held her wrists against the bed. He slowed and withdrew from her nearly all the way, teasing her with shallow thrusts.