Rock Me All Night (8 page)

“Hot damn.”

L
auren turned on the lamp on the nightstand before facing Jack. He stood where she'd left him just inside her bedroom. He toed off his shoes and stooped to remove his socks.

She liked that he wasn't shy about…well, anything. Despite his manners and sophistication, at heart Jack was a pretty basic man.

“Okay, my socks are knocked off. Let's get to it.”

“Give me a break.”

“What?”

“Does that line ever work?”

“I'm testing new material with you.”

“Why?”

“Because the old stuff doesn't feel right with you.”

She was flattered. “Sit on the bed.”

He did as she asked. There were about ten pillows at the head of the bed. Jack carefully arranged them behind his back and then crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back.

“I'm ready,” he said. It was arrogant—a command from a man who knows he's in charge.

“I'm not,” she said. She still wore the jeans and sweater she'd put on this morning for work. Not exactly seductive clothing. But then, Lauren had found that a feeling of sexiness came from inside.

She lit the candles that were on her dresser and on her nightstand and then turned off the light. The room filled with a soft ambient light. Then she entered her closet and took off her clothes.

Her chest of drawers was in the back, and she pulled out a sheer thigh-length negligee. She slipped that on and reentered the bedroom.

Jack let out a wolf whistle and waggled his eyebrows at her. “Very nice.”

He made her feel sexy. She knew she didn't look like a model, but she was a woman and she knew how to have a good time in bed.

The scents of her candles filled the room. Jack had removed his shirt and belt while she'd been changing. She skimmed her gaze over the planes of his chest. There was a light dusting of hair that tapered as it moved over his flat stomach.

His pants were unbuttoned but still zipped. He looked like a decadent pasha waiting to be served. His chest rose and fell with each breath he took. His nipples were hard and his skin flushed. His erection strained against his pants and she knew he was anything but relaxed.

She went to the CD player to draw out the anticipation. Flipping through the stack of albums that spanned every genre and generation of music, she settled on Norah Jones's soft, sultry love songs.

“If that's Manilow, I'm taking charge.”

She shook her head, enjoying the feel of her long hair against the back of her neck. Then glanced over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her butt.

She dropped the CD case and bent over to pick it up. He bolted off the bed in a split second. “Enough teasing me. The mood is set. The only thing left is for you to get your sweet butt on the bed.”

Before she could respond, he picked her up. Two steps later he dropped her on the bed and put his hand on her stomach to hold her in place, lowering himself between her legs.

“That's much better than candles and music,” he said.

He held her wrists in one of his hands up above her head. He lowered his face to her neck, kissing and lightly biting her skin as he moved down her torso.

She tried to free her hands but he tightened his grip. Instead she slid one of her legs between his, ca
ressing the back of his thigh and calf with her toes. She loved the rough feel of the hair on his legs and the tough sinew underneath.

She arched up into him. He groaned deep in his throat, a sound that was almost animalistic.

He traced random patterns on the globe of her breast with his tongue, coming closer and closer to her aching nipple but always turning away before his tongue touched her.

“Jack. Please.” She shifted her shoulders, trying to move her nipple closer to his lips.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He lifted his head, resting his chin on her sternum and staring up at her.

“Please stop torturing me,” she said.

“I thought that was what all this was for.” He shifted his head, indicating the candles and pillows. His hair rubbed sensuously over her skin. Every part of her body felt full, heavy, enervated. She needed more of him touching her everywhere.

“You thought wrong.”

He leaned to the left, and she felt his warm breath across the tip of her breast. Her nipple tightened even more, aching now. She arched her back and tried to twist toward him, but he lifted himself up on his elbow.

“Dammit.”

“Tsk-tsk. I'm in charge now.”

“You were always in charge,” she said.

“How?”

“Never mind,” she said. She felt like a fool. She
was almost naked and totally vulnerable to this man. She didn't want to give him any other tools to use against her.

He lowered his head and kissed her. One of those long, drugging kisses of his that made her forget to breathe. And it didn't matter because he was breathing for her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and wished she could do the same with her arms.

She held him close to her. But still wanted him closer, needed him to get rid of the layers of cloth between the two of them and thrust into her body. Only then would she be happy. Feel complete.

He lifted his head, his erection rock-hard against her. Her center was wet, ready for him. But he didn't make a move toward speeding up their lovemaking.

“Why did you do all this?”

She closed her eyes. He wasn't going to let it go.

“Because you've had a hundred lovers and I don't want to get lost in the sea.”

He cursed softly but with a savage intensity that almost frightened her. He freed her wrists and captured her face in his hands. “You could never be part of a sea. You are the only woman who's ever called to me.”

 

Her words made him want to lay claim to her, body and soul. The playful air that she'd tried to create dropped away. He understood a little too late what she'd been doing, and that made him want to cradle her in his arms and swear he'd protect her.

Swear an oath like one of the knights in those fairy tales she dreamed about. But he knew that celibacy would play no part in any of his vows and that tonight he had to show her in no uncertain terms exactly what she meant to him.

He knew the price he'd pay. Leaving himself vulnerable to her…well, it wasn't something he wanted to contemplate.

Her hands rested on his chest, toying with the strands of hair there. Tiny shivers danced down his spine. He closed his eyes, grappling for control. “Have I made you wish you'd gone home?”

He rubbed his erection against the center of her body. “Does this feel like it?”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

He pushed the thin material covering her body up and over her head, tossing it away with a flick of his wrist. He leaned back then and just stared at her. She was beautiful to him already, her physical form the last piece in completing the masterpiece that was Lauren.

Her skin had a natural olive tone to it and her breasts were full but not large, topped with those tempting pink nipples that he'd been dying to taste. Her legs were long and smooth. He skimmed one hand down her left leg. Her toes were painted a fiery red and there was a toe ring on her second toe.

He lifted her foot, caressing the slim gold band. “Who gave you this?”

“I did. I just turned thirty, and it seemed appropriate.”

He wanted to cover her in jewels. To mark her on the outside as his so that every man who saw her knew she wasn't available.

But it was too soon for that. And he wasn't the possessive type. He nibbled his way up her leg, stopping when he reached the top of her thigh. He could smell her arousal and it made him see red. He was ready for her.

He pushed her thighs farther apart and lowered his head to taste her. He parted her with his thumbs. She moaned and her hands clutched at his head, her hips lifting toward his mouth.

Groaning, he leaned forward and tasted her. She was hot and spicy. He took her hands from his head and pushed them up her body, over her breasts. He massaged her with her own hands as he continued to feast on her very delicate flesh.

She thrashed on the bed under him. She caressed her breasts without his encouragement and he skimmed his hands down her body. Grabbing her butt, he lifted her up higher, opened her wider to his questing tongue. Tasted her deeper. Her body started to tighten around his tongue and then she shuddered.

He slid up her body, tasting every inch of her skin. She scratched her nails down his back and around his waist to his zipper. She pushed his pants down his hips, then pushed them off with her feet.

She repeated the move with his boxers. He almost came when she lifted herself up against him. The movement made her entire body undulate against his, and it was the last straw.

He positioned himself and entered slowly. She was hot and wet and so damned tight. He froze as he realized he'd totally forgotten a condom. He pulled out of her body. He hadn't brought any condoms with him tonight. And that wasn't like him.

Dammit.

“What's the matter?” she asked. Her eyes were slumberous. Her body flushed with desire and her hips lifted, rubbing her wetness over his erection.

He groaned, thrusting against her.

“Protection?” he asked.
Grunted
would be a more accurate description. He could barely think, much less speak.

“I'm on the Pill,” she said, reaching between them and taking him in her hand. She caressed the length of him and then rubbed her finger over the tip.

She drew him to her opening, and he tightened his grip on her hips and thrust inside. It was like coming home. He stopped thinking. He knew the sounds she made in her climb to orgasm now and held on until he heard them.

Her legs tightened around his waist and she made that small gasp as she climaxed. He lifted her hips higher so he could go deeper, thrust all the way home.

Then his orgasm washed over him and he called
her name. He rested on her as they both came back to earth, her breasts a soft pillow under his head. He turned and flicked her nipple with his tongue.

There was still so much he wanted to do with her. He shifted them to their sides and suckled her pretty breasts while her hands swept up and down his back.

Then she hugged him tight to her. He lifted his head and saw that her eyes were closed. She bit her bottom lip and held him with a fierceness that made his own heart ache.

It was too soon to feel this much for her. But at the same time he knew it was too late. He felt her vulnerability to him. Felt her need for him. He needed her the same way, needed to protect her from any hurts—even the ones he might deliver.

But not tonight. Tonight he wanted to keep the focus light. Pretend that nothing had changed, even though he knew in his gut that everything had.

“You definitely knocked my socks off,” he said.

“Ditto,” she said, lowering her mouth to his.

He knew she didn't want to talk and that suited him, as well. So instead he made love to her again, all the while hoping that this would be enough.

 

Lauren woke up alone when the alarm went off at three-thirty. God, she really hated this new shift. She stretched, feeling small aches from the night before. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillow that Jack had slept on. It still held his scent.

She hugged it to her breast and kept her eyes shut. There was no going back and pretending now. She was falling in love with Jack.

Where was he? She couldn't believe he'd be out of bed already. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed, she could stay in the pleasant dreamworld where reality couldn't intrude.

The light in the hallway came on and a minute later he entered her room. “Morning.”

She lowered the pillow and opened her eyes. Jack was sitting on the side of the bed wearing only his pants and holding two coffee cups. He had a great chest.

“Morning,” she said. She hoped her hair wasn't sticking up.

He handed her one of the cups and she realized it was the chai tea she liked to drink. She knew he was a coffee drinker. “Sorry I don't have coffee.”

“That's okay, I didn't come here for the coffee,” he said. He propped some pillows against the head-board and leaned back.

“What did you come here for?” she asked. So much for keeping things light. But she needed to know. She wanted to cushion what she was feeling by tempering it with what she could expect from Jack. And though he'd warned her not to paint him with the same brush that she had other men she'd dated, it was hard not to.

He was more intense than those other guys. He made her feel alive and wish for things that she'd been slowly trying to stop wishing for.

“For you, Lauren. Just for you.”

She took another sip of her tea. She almost believed him. Had he woken up early or never gone to sleep? She suspected he hadn't slept. “You didn't have to get up early.”

“I wanted to.”

She wasn't sure what to do. She wished she'd picked a better night to sleep with him for the first time. A night when she didn't have to rush out of the house to get to work. Because something wasn't right with Jack this morning, and she knew if she had a little more time, she could figure it out.

She got to her feet. “Want to join me in the shower?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Fifteen minutes, and I have to leave at four or I'll be late.”

“I'd better skip.”

She set her mug down on the dresser and gathered her underwear. “Will you be here when I get out?”

“Yes. I'm not leaving until you do.”

“Okay.” She hurried into the bathroom. Trying not to think about Jack or last night or the new feelings buzzing through her system, she focused on her routine.

When she came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, he was still reclining on her bed. He'd donned his shirt and turned on the lamp. He was reading one of the books she'd left on her nightstand.