Everything You Want: Everything For You Trilogy 2 (7 page)

Even with everything that had happened I couldn’t bring myself to remove his name. It took two days of misery before I decided there was no way back. It also took two hours, a few bottles of cider, some crazy violin playing and a bucket of hot tears before I was finally free of him. Or so I thought.

Before I sobered up, I grieved as much for the loss of those pathetic little letters as for the man himself. I think it was around the time Madame came up with her new nickname for me –
la petite folle
.

“I like having my name on my property,” he informs me.

Some women may be insulted by such arrogance but not me. There is no fighting the truth. I want to be his and I want him to be mine. But some part of everything I ever wanted will have to be enough for now. To his bemusement I reach over and rummage in the top drawer of the bedside cabinet.

“Is that where you keep all your back-up plans?” he enquires, reminding me he found the vibrator I kept in a similar location in my London apartment.

I shoot him a look as my fingers curl round something much smaller and hand it to him.

“Felt tip pen? I suppose it’s what you do with it that counts.” He manages to make me feel such a kinky fool I slap him.

“Just sign on the dotted line.” I grin, pleased with myself.

He smirks at me, understanding instantly. Those blue eyes haunt me both awake and asleep. I want always to be able to stare at them. He pulls the pen lid off in his busy mouth and bends his head to the task.

“Always the wisest way to seal a deal,” he mumbles. I remove the pen lid from between his teeth before he swallows it and I have to perform a tracheotomy or something. “Hold still. I want my signature to be legible.”

I laugh then and he swats me playfully. The moving pen feels like a fat caterpillar waddling clumsily over my skin. My instinct is to scratch it away but I clamp my teeth together and suffer in silence.

When he’s done he leans back to observe his work with satisfaction. I am more interested in his smug expression than his handwriting at first, but eventually I can’t resist. I squirm upright and look down my body. He’s written Property of Jack Keogh. I’m shocked and amused in equally measure which he enjoys no end.

I scramble to my knees, pushing him back down onto the bed and grabbing the pen from his hand. “My turn.”

He raises an eyebrow but allows me to have my way. I don’t believe any woman has really made her mark on Jack Keogh before – not even Amanda Devereaux – which makes me very happy. He plants his hands behind his head, watching me as I work.

Pushing his wayward and very impressive erection aside with a great deal of deliberate fondling, which has him struggling to hold his position, I write in a gentle arch, at the base of his belly, just above his dark pubic hair. For the exclusive use of Tabitha Caid. I kneel back to admire my calligraphy.

“Satisfied?” he asks, reading the words upside down and arching his eyebrow.

“I should be in about twenty minutes.” I smirk like an idiot. “Unless you’re not up to the task?”

He grabs me and twists, pulling me beneath him in one easy movement. His sheer strength astounds me. He covers my body with his, pinning me down so completely I’m going nowhere.

“Let’s aim for ten.” Instantly his tone is a shade huskier. His pupils dilate turning the Arctic blueness to deep water darkness and I am stunned into silence by his total change of mood.

He hooks my legs up and drops them behind his where my calves grip tightly as he slams into me, knocking the air out of my lungs with record speed and force. He plants his hands either side of my head and establishes a punishing pace.

I grunt repeatedly as he propels his body into mine and continues until my eyes roll back beneath my eyelids.

“Open your eyes. Look at me. I want to see what I’m doing to you.”

I could tell him what he’s doing to me, if he wasn’t doing it so hard and fast. I’m mindless with impending orgasm almost before I realise what is happening. I can’t help myself. My eyes close.

“Eyes. Open.”

I snap them to his.

He pounds into me. I want to come. I need to come. I beg him with my open eyes.

He reads me. “Don’t. Come.”

I panic. “I. Can’t. Stop…”

“I said ten minutes. And I mean what I say.” He’s holding me to a time penalty as he continues to challenge my need to let go.

Thank heavens he halved my original estimate. I puff and blow, trying to please him. I grab at his back, raking my nails through his flesh as hard as I can. Why should I be the only one to suffer?

He stalls as he hisses through his teeth. “Time’s up. Now you’re mine.”

I wail throughout the implosion. My internal muscles spasm in such hard rhythmic tension, my thighs knot and my entire body seizes, unbending beneath his.

He grabs hold, convulses and releases inside me. “Oh hell, yes, Tabby. Oh fuck.” He hangs over me until I wring every last sensation from his body and he from mine.

The power and pleasure at the height is almost too much to bear. He hangs his head down between his shoulders, depleted, and my frozen limbs slowly unlock until I’m soft, pliant and completely spent. I have no energy left to move.

“Hold me, Jack.” I feebly pull him down, always needing his closeness at a time like this. Skin on hot, sticky skin as I descend.

His weight compresses me but I love it. He knows instinctively when I start to feel I can’t breathe and need a less firm contact. Then he rolls to one side, taking me gently with him. He sucks my lips and strokes my hair and I love these moments best, when he is mine and I am his and nothing else in the world matters.

He draws back to observe me. “Pretty well fucked in ten minutes straight, I’d say.”

His comment embarrasses me. I’m still naïve that way. He laughs at my shyness, tips my chin up and kisses me affectionately.

“We didn’t use a condom.” We didn’t use one in the kitchen either. Is that why these moments are so totally intense?

“You told me you took the pill. Have you missed any?”

“No.”

“Have you been fucking someone else?” His brow furrows deeply.

Laurent? “No.”

“I’ve never fucked another woman without using a condom. Ever. Does that surprise you?”

“No.” I wish I knew why I’d become so monosyllabic.

“Then we’re good?”

“Yes.” At least it’s a different syllable.

He relaxes, slaps me on the rump and shifts. “Shower.”

When he jumps out of bed he drags me behind him. Never mind I might like to lie here and think for a while. He’s the
Boss
and what he says goes and I’m sated enough with the amazing sex to do anything he wishes.

Jack runs water and nudges me inside the cubicle with his naked body. He turns me around so I lean back into him. I love the feel of my wet skin on his and, it would appear, the feeling is mutual. He slides over me, murmuring in pleasure as he does so.

“Let me wash you.” He soaps my breasts so thoroughly he has me panting. He trails a line down over my belly to the place he signed his name.

I capture his hand. “You’ll wash it off.”

“Then I’ll sign it again.” He nuzzles the spot beneath my ear which makes me shiver. “You can wash mine off too. Same deal.”

I scoop copious suds from my breasts and reach behind me, touching his belly and feeling my way down the line of fine hair running from his navel. Slowly I dip my hand lower and as I hear his breathing change and his muscles tense I enclose his erection in my fist. He’s solid already and his flesh jerks beneath my hand.

“Again, Jack?” He’s had me twice already and he’s only been here a few hours.

“I can’t get enough of you, kitten. This just won’t do.” He spins me in his arms, presses me against the tiles, planting one arm beside my head and pushing two fingers up inside me. My mouth opens in a jolt of surprise. My breath stalls.

Hypnotic blue eyes hold me steadily in my place. They show me I’m his secret pleasure. His thumb sweeps over and over my sensitive nerve endings until I’m gasping for the relief of him.

“You’re so sexy when you shatter.” His fingers take me with passion and I orgasm right there in front of him like it’s from his words alone. He plays me hard. I think he enjoys seeing me weak and wanton.

I hurl my arms round his neck when my legs start to buckle so he lifts me and I cross them behind him. He slams me against the wall and breaches me just at the moment my body clamps down hardest.

“So tight.” But his body claims its victory over mine easily with a surge of raw male power.

I pant in rapid, harsh rhythm at each thrust until his energy throws me over the edge again. My lips part and I cry out his name. My pelvis arches against the fierce upward drive, while I cling to him and bite my teeth down into his neck. He turns rigid as orgasm explodes through him and for a single second he is me and I am him. We are together.

We don’t speak, either one, for minutes. Jack recovers first and starts to clean my body with a natural sponge. He shampoos and conditions my hair and reaches out for a towel to wrap me in, popping me outside the cubicle door.

“Go get some clothes on before I need to fuck you again.” He leans out to kiss me and sends me away. “And I might impose an underwear check,” he warns me, laughing.

While I’m in my bedroom rummaging for a dress, someone outside the window catches my eye. It’s Laurent, striding up the track towards the back of the house. He’s coming to see me at the end of his working day. Although he’s my friend, I suppose Madame will have warned him to stay away until now.

My heart gives a little flip of alarm. No-one here knows Jack like I do. If Jack spots Laurent I know he’s a dead man and it will be all my fault after that come-hither display I gave to annoy Jack down by the fields. My silly trick worked only too well. Jack’s already reminded me he doesn’t share his woman with anyone and beneath that civilised veneer he’s still all cave-male. By his own admission he’s uber-competitive. Laurent doesn’t know any of this and he won’t know what hit him so I’d better put him straight.

I listen out. Jack is still under the shower so I quickly pull a short sun-dress over my head and fly down the back stairs in my bare feet.

The back door is habitually unlocked and Laurent comes straight into the kitchen, as informally as ever.

“Tabeetha.” He grabs me by the shoulders to kiss me on both cheeks in the classic French way of greeting an old friend. “Madame told us you arrive. She said you are
triste
. Sad. So we leave you alone. It is better now, I think?”

His English is improving. “I’m perfectly fine, Laurent.” But he can’t be here. I’m conscious that Jack will finish his shower any minute and come looking for me. He mustn’t see me here with Laurent. I’ve marked the poor man for life already.

And Jack owns the estate now so is Laurent’s boss too. This could be bad. I take his arm and walk him back out the door. I’m a rotten hostess. The late afternoon air is typically still and warm heading for an evening of the same; Laurent looks dusty and dry and I really should offer him a drink. But I’m too conscious of preserving his current state of well-being. And mine.

“It’s lovely to see you Laurent but you mustn’t come here yet.” I have to make Jack understand first, that we’re simply old friends.

Laurent looks hurt and confused. “No? Why is this?” He sees me glance back nervously towards the house as we walk.

“Until the new boss understands.” My attempt to explain is pretty lame. With the look Laurent gives me I know he agrees with Madame:
la petite folle
.

But I underestimate his Gallic reasoning, his male spirit of competition and the wicked sense of humour I adored so much as a teenage girl. He glances back at the house then grins at me in a very sexy way. He grabs me and kisses me fully on the lips, bending me backwards over his arm.

“I give him something for the jealousy, no?” Laurent looks extremely pleased with himself and winks at me.

It’s pure drama, designed to shock anyone who might be watching. It shocks me. There might only be one person watching: the one person I don’t want to witness this. I laugh nervously when Laurent lets me up but I’m blushing with embarrassment.

Laurent is like a brother to me. A very roguish one. I know he’s only joking. We’ve grown up almost like siblings and he’s never made a move on me before. I’ve always been off-limits on the farm. I also know Jack wouldn’t understand this for one second. But these French understand the game of
l’amour
. Farm boys especially.

I swat Laurent, hook my arm through his again and drag him back down the path, conscious of my bare feet in the dust. Laurent spots me looking down at them and sweeps me up into his arms.

A squeal of surprise emerges from my lips before I have the good sense to suppress it. The more I try to avert disaster, the more I seem to court it. I take a fleeting glance back at the house again.

“Put me down, Laurent. Now!”

He spins me round laughing but places me on my feet again. “He is not come. I think he does not love you,” he teases.