Part-Time Wife (19 page)

There she was, semi-naked before him, and he hadn't even bothered with a come-on. She buried her face in the towel, then raised her head and glanced at the mirror.

Her moan was involuntary. Her wet hair hung down. Water collected on the pointy ends and dripped steadily. Her nose was red, her eyes wide. She looked like a drowned kitten. No wonder he hadn't wanted her.

"I should be h-happy," she said, her voice cracking on the last word. But she wasn't. He didn't want her. Aaron hadn't wanted her. No one wanted her.

She knew she was behaving irrationally. It was just her weakened condition. That didn't stop the tears from spilling onto her cheeks, or a sob from breaking free.

Craig must have been waiting for her right outside the door because he was at her side in an instant.

"Jill? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," she said. "N-nothing at a-all. I look like a drowned k-kitten. No one wants me."

He made comforting noises deep in his throat as he wrapped the towel securely around her. She wanted to tell him not to treat her like a child, but she liked the way she felt when he lifted her up in his arms.

He sat on the edge of the bed and settled her on his lap. "I want you," he said.

She sniffed loudly and brushed her wet hair off her forehead. "No you don't. You're just saying that to be polite."

His dark gaze met hers. "I'm not that nice."

He'd wrapped the towel around her tightly, but she was sitting on the corner. When she shifted, it loosened. It started to slip down, but she didn't do anything to stop it. Instead, she placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

He pulled her closer. She felt the hardness of his arousal press against her hip. "Very sure." He reached up and grabbed her wrists, lifting her hands away. "Jill, you're the one who keeps putting the brakes on a personal relationship. Are you saying you've changed your mind?"

"I—" She didn't have an answer to that. Nothing made sense. She studied his face, his familiar features. She trusted him. She liked him. She wanted him. Maybe it was a reaction to being sick. She didn't know. "I'm just so tired of being alone," she said.

He nodded slowly. "Me, too." He put her hands back on his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her. Then his mouth found hers and she didn't feel alone anymore.

Chapter 11

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he responded instantly. When Craig tightened his arms around her, she drew him into her mouth, as if she were starving and he her only hope of survival.

He angled his head, dipping his tongue inside, tasting her sweetness mingling with the mint of toothpaste. She smelled fresh and clean, her body was warm. He wanted to strip her towel off her and take her right there, that minute. The need inside him had flared to life with a painful intensity that sucked the air from his lungs. But instead of giving in, he hung on, because he needed this to be magic for her. His pleasure depended as much on chasing her to paradise and making her lose control as it did on finding a place of refuge between her silky thighs.

So instead of tilting her back and burying himself inside her, he kept his hands on her arms. He had to get control before he risked touching her anywhere else.

He brushed his tongue over hers, circling her, discovering the sweet secrets of her mouth. His lips pressed harder, demanding more, and she gave all she had to him. She leaned toward him, arching her body against him. Her towel slipped lower. He sensed it, more than felt it. When he could bear it no longer, he raised his head and looked at her.

The soft yellow terry cloth pooled at her waist, exposing her torso. Her hair was still damp and rumpled, her face pale, her eyes wide and unfocused. She smiled at him, a "come love me" kind of smile that upped the pressure in his groin about fifty percent.

He could see her collarbone, the faint dusting of freckles on her creamy skin. His gaze dipped lower to her breasts. His breath caught in his throat. Without conscious thought, he raised his hands and cupped her perfect round flesh.

She was large for her petite frame and the lush curves filled his palms. She responded instantly to his embrace, moaning his name and leaning forward to press a kiss to his throat. Her hot breath and warm lips taunted him, as did the feel of her in his hands.

She was warm, living satin. Supple, soft, sensual. He traced her curves, then ran his thumbs over the taut points of her coral-tipped nipples. A ripple shot through her and she exhaled his name.

With one easy movement, he kicked off his shoes, then stretched out on the bed. She tumbled next to him. He caught her, cushioning her fall. The fluffy towel tangled around her. He left it in place, liking the peekaboo effect. He saw one breast, a bit of her right thigh, her belly and the lower part of her legs. One arm was trapped by the terry cloth.

He turned and supported himself on one elbow. With his free hand, he touched her face.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

She smiled. "Hardly."

"You are. Your eyes were the first thing I noticed about you."

She wrinkled her nose. "I look like a kitten. It's not a comparison most people aspire to."

"I saw the likeness at first," he admitted, "but now I just see you."

He stroked her cheek, then her nose. He followed the path down to her mouth. She parted her lips. Her tongue darted out and licked the tip of his finger. Instantly fire shot through him.

He swore under his breath.

She smiled. "Did you like that?"

"Let's just say I'd like anything you did right now." He circled her mouth with his finger.

She leaned her head forward, opened her mouth and captured his finger. She drew him in deeply, then suckled him, circling his sensitized skin with her tongue.

The movement mimicked what they would do later, the completion of their act of love. It was as if someone had hooked up a direct circuit from his index finger to his groin. Sensation raced down, engorging him, making him flex painfully against the fly of his trousers. His skin heated to the point of burning.

He pulled his finger free and kissed her. Passion caught him in its grip until he feared for his control. In the back of his mind was the constant worry that she was so small. He didn't want to hurt her.

He plunged his tongue inside, as if daring her to do with that what she'd done with his finger. She obliged him until he thought he might explode. He retreated and she followed. While she touched and tasted his mouth, he clamped his lips around her and tormented her in return. She writhed beneath him.

He stroked her bare arm, then her midriff. Brushing the towel aside, he cupped the curve of her hip, then traced her thighs. She was all woman, all curves, in a compact package. He reversed his steps until he cupped her breast. While his fingers teased her already tight nipple, he broke the kiss and trailed down her throat. She arched her head back, urging him on.

He tasted her skin and explored her smooth chest, before dipping lower. A quick jerk freed her of the towel. He tossed it over his shoulder and she was bare to his gaze.

He stared at her full breasts, then at her narrow waist and the sweep of her hips. At the apex of her thighs, her curls were only a shade or two darker than the hair on her head. He placed his hand on her belly. His little finger nestled in her curls, his thumb nearly touched her breasts. She was too small.

If he'd been any kind of gentleman, he would have stopped. Instead, his mind raced to find a dozen different ways to make it work. It had to be possible. If he didn't make love with her, he would die.

He tried to remember how long it had been since he'd touched a woman intimately. Months. Years. He'd begun to think he would never experience that particular pleasure again. After a while, his body had ceased wanting the release and he'd put that part of his life on hold. He'd always equated lovemaking with love, having given up mindless sex shortly after his teens. He didn't love Jill – at least he assumed he didn't. But this intimacy felt right. Maybe it was what she'd said. They were both tired of being alone. He trusted her. That was more than what he could have said about Krystal.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, reaching for the first button on his uniform shirt.

"That I'm going to hurt you. You're too small."

She laughed and her breasts bounced in time with her amusement. He wanted to beg her to do it again, but his mouth was dry and he couldn't speak. He lowered his head and took one of her nipples in his mouth.

She grabbed his head as if to hold him in place. He wanted to tell her he had no plans to go anywhere, but that would have meant stopping. Instead, he rolled the tight point between his lips. He circled her with his tongue, then lifted his mouth slightly and blew on the damp flesh.

Her hips tilted toward him, her grip on his hair tightened. He moved to her other breast and repeated his ministrations. Her arms fell to her sides as she rocked her head from side to side. With each breath, she moaned.

He placed his hand flat on her belly, then slid it lower until his fingers encountered her curls. He could feel the softness of her, the dampness. Lower and lower until her waiting warmth enveloped him. The temptation of slick heat was more than he could resist. He eased one finger inside of her.

Instantly, she parted her thighs. He tested the tight circle that would milk him to ecstasy. Her muscles clenched around him and he groaned.

Even as his tongue traced a tight circle over her nipple, his fingers found a matching taut peak between her legs. He circled that place, too, moving around and around before stroking over it. Once. Quickly.

Her hips flexed toward him. Her breathing rate increased, as did the temperature of her skin. He brushed the spot, inciting the same response. As he drew his head down her body, pausing to lick her belly and nip at her side, he moved his fingers rhythmically. He picked up speed to match her breathing. She clawed at the sheets and called his name. He nibbled on her hipbone, then traced a line through her curls and finally bent low so he could replace his hand with his mouth.

At the first touch of his tongue, she screamed, though it wasn't especially loud. The sound had a half-embarrassed quality to it that made him smile.

His body was doing some screaming of its own. The fire between his legs had reached the point of being unbearable, but he didn't stop what he was doing; He'd always enjoyed touching a woman everywhere, tasting her, bringing her to pleasure first. If he waited until they climaxed together, he didn't get to watch her, or listen to her breathing, or see the flush on her skin. It took away from the experience. So even as his erection throbbed and flexed, and his muscles tightened in anticipation, he slowed the cadence of his tongue against her most feminine place.

He circled her, sweeping around, but not touching the vibrating place of need. He dipped inside her, then returned to the tiny place. Only when her breath came in pants and her bent legs trembled did he move faster, bringing her quickly to the point of release.

She hung there for a heartbeat, her body unbelievably tight. He flicked his tongue quickly, then slipped a finger inside her and pressed upward, as if to caress the spot from both sides.

She convulsed around him. She trembled and shook. Powerful contractions squeezed his finger as he felt and watched her experience perfection. As he continued to touch her gently, lightly, she rode the crest of fulfillment until at last it slowed and she was still.

He sat up and stared at her. Her irises were huge. A flush covered her chest. She blinked several times as if the world was just now coming into focus.

"I think the earth moved," she said, her voice sounding stunned.

He smiled.

"I'm not kidding. I think I've been doing it wrong all these years. It's never been—" She exhaled. "You should teach a class. Trust me, you could make a fortune."

He bent over and kissed her. She locked her arms around him, holding him close.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welco—"

She slipped her tongue into his ear. Instantly, his body stiffened. Delicious tingles raced through him. She nipped his lobe, then moved lower and sucked on his neck. Her teeth grated erotically.

He braced his weight on his arms, determined to let her have her way with him. She reached for the buttons on his shirt and began unfastening them. By the time she'd pulled the cloth free from his trousers, he'd begun to shake.

She raised herself up slightly and, as she drew the shirt apart, placed her mouth against his chest. She trailed kisses from his throat to his waistband. She circled her tongue through the hair until she found his nipples, then teased him into mindlessness.

When he couldn't stand it anymore, he pushed himself into a sitting position and ripped off his shirt. She sat up, completely naked and apparently unselfconscious.

Her hands followed the path the shirt had taken. She touched his shoulders, then stroked down his arms. She knelt before him, her breasts swaying free. He reached for them, cupping her gently. She tilted her head back.

"I can't believe how that makes me feel," she said.