Everything You Want: Everything For You Trilogy 2 (42 page)

I do as he says. He clasps me against him with a hand at the base of my spine. His trousers are open but pulled up. Mine are round my knees. He uses his feet to shove them to my ankles and I kick them off. He hoists me one-handed up onto the instrument panel and his knees nudge my legs apart. I don’t imagine it’s doing anything for his state-of-the-art navigation system but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s steering himself just where I want him to.

“You’re a dirty, sexy little girl.” He pulls my panties to one side until his fingers can play in the warm wetness beneath. He eases a couple up inside me, making me arch my pelvis into him.

I hang round his neck, mewling. “Take me now, Jack.”

“You want this?” His thumb flicks at my sensitivity until I jump all over the place.

I nod, beyond speech.

“Are you going to come good and hard when I tell you to?”

“Sooner than you think.”

“Like now?”

“Right now.” My voice raises up an octave.

“I’m lining up for an approach.” I feel him and the boat both doing just that. He’s going to run a bridge and take me at the same time. He looks straight ahead then stares into my eyes. For ages.

My frustrations grow. He can tell how easily he keeps me balanced on the edge as he strums me like he’s playing a slow guitar.

I hum with impatience. “What are you waiting for?” I gasp the words, breathing hard.

“Looking to see if I have two amber lights for a navigable channel.”

“My channel’s all clear. Tide flowing fast. What’s your approach speed, Captain?” I play his little game and then some.

“Twelve knots and holding.” He pounds into me the second we dip into brief darkness beneath the bridge. He withdraws and rams home again.

“Stay right there,” I demand. I close my eyes and let my head roll backwards.

I feel the choppiness of the water lift and drop the boat and the slow roll as it shifts from side to side. He holds himself encased within me, allowing me to feel the motion in the ocean. The compensational changes in the muscles of our bodies against each other’s movement and to maintain balance on the boat are subtle and delicious, tugging me upwards towards my release.

“Head up,” he demands. “Eyes on me. I want to see you lose control. You’re so sexy when you give it up for me.”

I wouldn’t even dream of disobeying. He pounds into me repeatedly until I tilt on my axis, squeal and come, fast and intense. Every muscle in my body clenches down hard as he thrusts into the tight space, halts, shudders and comes with a protracted series of deep grunts.

“Oh fuck, baby.”

He squeezes me against him so hard it’s like all his muscles have gone into spasm and I can’t breathe. My weak attempts to tap him on his shoulder blade become almost frantic before he realises and loosens his hold a little.

His focus returns bit by bit and he drops a series of slow, grateful kisses to my lips. “Now that’s what I call being taken at the flood.”

“And he quotes Shakespeare too.”

We chuckle weakly. We’re not far from Chelsea dock where we’ll be overlooked by apartments.

“Hurry. Let me get my jeans on.”

He slides me down from the navigation panel beside the wheel and bends to get my jeans for me. I jiggle my underwear into place and hop around dressing as he holds me up so I don’t lose my balance and fall. He adjusts himself and zips up, one-handed. We both drop our sunglasses over our eyes and look almost respectable; the high colour on our cheekbones what you would expect of a couple of mariners after a day out on the river. Jack turns us into the harbour and manoeuvres skilfully into his berth.

He cuts the engines and slides down the ladder to tie up. Somehow he never seems as affected as me by the transition from walking the decks to dry land again. Once more he has to hold me for a minute or two until the ground and my insides stop heaving.

“A fantastic day, Tabby. Which you made unique.”

“Boat sex made it exceptional.”

“Boat sex with you, made it incomparable.” He gathers me in his arms and drugs me with a kiss.

Sighing, he tucks me into his side and we amble back to Belvedere together. One thing I’m sure of is that Jack really does like me and I’m more in love with him than ever. I’m almost looking forward to tonight when I can finally tell him the truth.

Somehow sex always seems to give Jack more energy. He’s practically bouncing. It leaves me weak as a kitten. I hang on to his arm as he walks and talks. I just hope he’s not got one of his epic sexual marathons scheduled as soon as we get in. It’s nearly six o’clock and I’m almost out of time. I have to put plan A into operation.

Damn you, Amanda.

The elevator doors hardly have time to close when Jack grabs me and spins me into an embrace.

“I had a wonderful day,” I say, laughing and breathless. I feel a bit giddy as nerves begin to kick in.

“I had a pretty wonderful day myself.” A smile quirks at his lips. “It’s far from over yet.” He lifts the sunglasses from my eyes and hooks them over his back pocket. His own pair join it straight after. He yanks the sweatshirt I just put on over my head and tosses it away. “But first I want to investigate this sexy, bare belly thing you’ve got going on. It’s been driving me crazy all day.”

He’s settling in for a session, I can tell. He really can’t get enough of me. The thought delights me. It means there is hope.

He drops to his knees, pressing his mouth to my navel. His tongue trails a hot liquid path around it as I dig my fingers into his thick, dark hair. He’s sending all sorts of delicious thrills coursing through me but my thoughts have to stay firmly on the time. Any moment now…

His fingers hook through the loop of my belt and he teases it through the buckle. “I could do a lot with you and a leather belt,” he muses.

“Shame it’s holding up my jeans.”

He glances up at me. “Not for long.”

Not for long are vital words in both our current enterprises. The phone rumbles in my back pocket. I feel Jack hesitate. It rumbles again.

“Leave it,” he orders in a gruff, displeased voice as he traces a line down my belly with his tongue.

“I can’t. It might be important.”

Jack flutters a series of light kisses on my exposed skin as he opens my jeans.

“So is this.” His voice changes into a deep growl.

The phone rumbles again and I reach for it. He grabs my hand to stop me. “No interruptions.”

“Please, Jack. It won’t take a minute. What if it’s an emergency?”

“They can dial 112.” He has hold of my hands, trapping them against the swell of my buttocks. He lowers his lips to my belly again. “I have an emergency of my own going on.”

“Please, let me see who it is.” I know exactly who it is. Without my hands free the phone will continue to ring. I made sure it would ring at exactly six o’clock and keep on ringing until I answered the thing. Jack’s not the only one who can strategize.

I feel really bad though. It’s his birthday and he’s been lovely to me today. Not to mention I want him all to myself just as much as he wants me; yet I can’t renege on my promise this late in the day. Although for one split second I’d like to see Amanda’s face if I did.

I remind myself I’m doing it for Jack, not her. I won’t be the one to spoil his surprise. He’d understand that sort of pettiness even less than he will my temporary departure, once he finds out the truth. I have to get CEO tough.

“Jack! Let go of my hand. I’m taking this call.”

He positively glares at me. Jack Keogh doesn’t like anyone getting between him and his prey. Even when they’re both the same person. I glare back, arching him a look. He lets go and holds his hands up in surrender as I scramble for my phone. I step backwards so he can’t grab me again.

“Take the damn call if it’s that important.” That’s his frustration talking.

I blow him a thankful kiss as I press the accept button. “Hello?” I really try to sound like I have no idea who’s calling me.

“Tabitha? I thought you weren’t going to answer for a minute.” Libby’s voice makes me want to breathe a sigh of relief. Plan A is in operation.

“What’s the matter?” I put a fake tone of alarm in my voice.

“Nothing. You asked me to call you at six. Don’t you remember?” Libby knows what this is about and is teasing me. I can hear the tone of amusement in her voice.

“Don’t cry.” I continue my one-sided drama.

“Who’s crying? I’m having a barbecue actually.”

“Oh God!”

“Yes, it’s that good.”

“What’s the matter, Tabitha?” Jack reacts to the only side of the conversation he can hear. Mine. I mustn’t overdo things. I don’t want him grabbing the phone out of my hand.

I hold my hand up to stop him talking but he frowns and looks concerned.

“Where are you?”

“In the back garden, of course. I wouldn’t light a barbecue in the living room, would I?”

I make a mental note to kill her. This is hard enough as it is. I can’t look Jack in the eye.

“Talk to me, Tabitha. What’s wrong?” Every time Jack takes a step closer, I take one back. I don’t want him uncovering my trick.

“Sit tight. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“No way. I’m heading indoors for cake and ice-cream.”

I want to roll my eyes. Libby’s such a clown. It’s hard enough trying to sound alarmed about something whilst pretending I have it in hand so Jack won’t snatch up the phone and deal with it himself, without all Libby’s nonsense. He’s been dying to do just that since I spoke my first words. He’s a solutions-focused kind of guy. I’m practically dancing around the living room trying to keep a table or a sofa between us.

“Who the hell is it? Give me that phone.” Jack makes a swift move towards me and I twist to keep it out of his reach again.

“Don’t move. I’m on my way.” I hang up the call at the second Jack manages to close his fist round my phone.

“What did you go and do that for?” He stares at me suspiciously. He knows there’s more to this than meets the eye. I’m rubbish as a liar.

At least I don’t have to deal with two conversations at once any longer. I take a deep breath and turn to Jack.

“Tabitha. Will you tell me what the matter is?”

When he looks at me like that, with his Arctic blues so insightful, I find it almost impossible to keep up the pretence. I want to confess everything.

“I have to go.” I turn away. I’m so certain
guilty
is written – in blood – right across my forehead, I rush off towards the bedroom.

He stops me in my tracks which is not entirely unexpected. His stare reminds me of the way he looked at me just before I fled Belvedere when the media frenzy broke.

“Just one minute, lady. What do you mean you have to go? Go where? What for?”

“That’s a lot of questions, Jack.” I’m stalling.

His eyes narrow. His grip on my upper arms tightens a little. “All of which you seem to be avoiding.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Then you’d better start spilling the beans or you’ll have nothing but time.” He walks me to the dining room table, pulls out a chair and sits me down in it. I knew it would be like this. I feel like a spy under interrogation. He goes all
Boss
on me again, in an instant. “You appear to have a problem and I intend to help you with it.”

He’s so suspicious. The fact he has good reason to be shouldn’t enter into it. He always wants to think the worst. I become indignant. When he finds out I’m doing this for him, I’ll make him eat so much humble pie he’ll choke. When I’d planned this scenario in my mind, the imaginary conversation I had with Jack was brief and not too intrusive. Fantasy and reality are somewhat at odds.

“Who was on the phone?”

“Libby. Her car’s broken down and she’s stuck without any money to get a bus or a cab.”

“That’s the panic?” He sounds suspicious.

“I’m not panicking.” But I’m starting to. Big time. What if he refuses to let me go? What if he insists on coming with me?

He takes a deep breath and continues to cross-examine me like I’m an idiot witness. “So she needs your help to get home?”

“Yes. It’s no secret.” Why can’t I stop saying that word?

“Why doesn’t she take a taxi and let someone pay at the other end?” He sounds calm and in control while I’m beginning to sound more and more like a pathetic, headless chicken.

“She can’t. No-one’s there.” I’m floundering. I had no idea he would make a court case out of it. I’m woefully unprepared.

He studies me like he knows I’m lying but can’t quite put his finger on why. When he fails to cross-examine my last response, I know he’s calling my bluff. He knows I’m up to something.

He even arches his eyebrows at me and visibly appears to relax. I’m not fooled for a minute. “Then let’s go. We’ll pick her up and drive her wherever she wants. It’s an easy problem to fix.”

“Your car’s not here.”

“We’ll call a cab.”

“No.” I say it way too fast. I’m simply no good at this. He studies me again. “I’ll go. I’ll be back in an hour.”