Chapter 20
Jackie let the warm water run down her face, turning her head for a deep breath of steamy air. She hadn’t been alone, hadn’t been allowed to just be a woman by herself in years. She was a mother first, a business owner second, and an exhausted ghost of herself the rest of the time.
But right now, she was just a woman in a shower, waiting on a man.
Was it selfish of her to think that way?
To revel in this moment, enjoy the sweet anticipation of the next?
Tomorrow would be grueling, and the day after that—the difficulty and trials that lay ahead too much to contemplate.
She couldn’t let herself think of Selena, wouldn’t torture herself with what-ifs.
No.
Tonight she would focus her attention within these four walls, take Ian in her hands and hold him against her body, feel the solid weight of him between her legs, where she hadn’t felt a man in far too long.
She’d once been a deeply sensual being, the chance to be with him rousing that part of her from a long and dreamless sleep.
He’d been quiet after the paternity ruse, brooding in the truck, and she didn’t blame him for his discomfort. But the magnitude of that request had brought him closer, even as he railed against it, firmly pushing him across the line that had kept them apart.
She turned off the water and stepped out, drying herself off with a towel. His hands would soon be on her skin. She cupped one breast, imagining it was he who touched her. She sighed, dropping her hand before wiping the condensation off the mirror and staring at her reflection.
He called, “Your things are right outside the door,” making her jump. A burst of adrenaline had her heart beating quickly.
“Thank you.” She was wasting time. She got her clothes and dressed quickly before entering the bedroom.
He sat on the edge of the far bed with his forearms on his knees, the lamp on the nightstand throwing the unmarred half of his face into deep shadow.
He was looking at her so intently she stopped moving.
God, he was sexy. Danger and a handsome beauty mixed across the striking features of his face.
His eyes fell and he looked to the nightstand. Two motel keys sat on its surface.
Two keys. Not one.
The prowess that had filled her in the shower drained into the floor, rejection curling in her stomach like too much wine.
“Jackie…” he said, his voice gravelly and deep. “We can’t do this.”
He was leaving her. He wouldn’t stay. After all her fantasies in the shower, the certainty he’d be with her in the night. “Why?” She sounded small and childish, and she hated that she asked the question.
He stood, turning his back to her and picking up one of the keys. “I left the wine you wanted and some food. Don’t drink too much or you’ll be dehydrated for the trek tomorrow.”
She told herself not to beg him, desperation and pride warring for the upper hand, but she had lost so much in the last few days—her best friend, her sense of safety and peace—and now she was losing her night with Ian as well.
“You’re leaving right now?” Maybe if he would stay for dinner, the meal would give her time to change his mind, but he didn’t turn around.
“We both need to get some sleep.”
“It’s eight o’clock.”
He headed for the door. “I’ll come for you at three. Make sure you’re ready.”
He was going to walk out without even looking her in the eye. “Look at me, Ian.” She crossed to him.
He raised his head and met her stare, but his eyes were shuttered. He was deliberately cutting himself off from her, disallowing any attempt to sway him. The need to make him acknowledge her outweighed the cost to her pride. “You want to be with me, too.”
“It’s the wrong decision.”
“Admit it, you coward.” She pushed him in the chest with the heel of her hand. “You want me, too.”
Emotion flared in his eyes, no longer cold but hot, hot enough to burn. There it was, the fire that ran just beneath the surface. She lifted her chin. “I can see it in the way you look at me.”
“Stop it,” he snapped.
“Or what? You’ll leave me alone when you desperately want to stay? You’ll walk out of my room and pretend you don’t give a shit when what you really want is to be in my bed just as badly as I want you there?”
He shook his head slowly and took a step back. She followed him. “Fuck you, Ian.” She pushed him again. “Fuck you for leaving me to wallow in my own crap. Fuck you for being so goddamn righteous you’ve got to deny me the one thing I’ve wanted for myself in all these years.”
“And what is that, huh?” he demanded. “What is it you think I can give you? I’m not the guy who’s going to walk into your life and make it okay. I’m not going to take care of you or even stick around.”
“I never asked you to. I don’t care about any of that.”
He leaned down, his face just inches from hers. “Then what? What is it you think I have to give?”
“Sex, all right? I wanted you to have sex with me.” She leaned forward. “I wanted you to touch me. To make me feel like a woman. Sexy. To be with me, goddamn it. But I guess that’s just too much to ask—”
He kissed her, his mouth assaulting hers with a fierceness that spoke of insatiable desire.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, desperate that he not get away.
The key dropped to the floor as he opened his hands, long fingers splaying across her back with a caress that lit her up like a light.
She had to get closer to him, had to feel the warmth of his skin against hers, and she grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking the garment over his head.
He hadn’t showered as she had, the spicy scent of his body acutely male and intoxicating as a drug to a hard-core addict.
Her fingers slid greedily over his muscled back, the planes of his shoulders, and the curve of his spine.
She pressed kisses from his bare chest up to the hollow at his collarbone.
Would he be a good lover, stoking the hot coals of need he’d ignited with his mouth on hers, his hands on her body? Or would he overpower her, making her take what he gave until she willingly shattered into shards, like glass?
There was danger outside these doors, but there was danger inside them, too—in the thin slice of heated air that shifted between their bodies.
“Jesus,” he ground out, cursing under his breath as he hauled her up for his kisses.
“I need to see you.” He stepped back, his sculpted chest rising and falling fast as he feasted on her with his eyes, and she lifted her shirt over her head.
She wore a nude lace bra that plunged down between her breasts, his stare taking in the swell of flesh on display. “Show me.”
With nervous fingers, she caught one strap and tugged it down to her elbow, the cup still hugging her breast, then did the same with the next before pulling the cups down with both hands.
He inhaled sharply. Her nipples were hard and desperate for his touch, her need for this man increasing with every second he made her wait.
He held out his hands to her, walking backwards to the bed and sitting on its edge.
His fingers traced from her jawline to the swell of her breast, leaving a glorious tingle in their wake.
He leaned forward, kissing her nipple before taking her in his mouth, the wet heat of his tongue making her moan, then took more of the sensitive flesh in his mouth and suckled her rhythmically.
Her hips bucked and she gasped, the sensation more intense than any she’d ever felt from her breasts, and she thought she could climax from this feeling alone.
Was that even possible? Her hands moved to the back of his head, grazing the rough texture of his hair and holding him to her, noises she associated with orgasm coming from deep in her throat. Her knees were wobbly. “Ian,” she whispered, not knowing if she wanted him to stop or never leave.
His hand came up to her other breast, squeezing her flesh to the same rhythm as his mouth. She arched her back as sensation swept over her in a dizzying wave. Her eyes closed, pinpoints of light gathering in the darkness.
He released her, his fingers fumbling with the button on her shorts before sliding them down to the floor. He kissed her belly, one hand moving into her curls and reaching the slick wetness between her folds. She cried out, the sensations overwhelming. “I need to lie down.”
He pulled her to him, spinning their bodies around, her rump landing on the bed with a bounce. The fiery need on his face as he climbed over her was animalistic, making her wonder if she was lover or prey, knowing only she was about to be consumed either way.
Her legs spread for him of their own volition, wanting him inside her, and she whimpered when he turned his attention to the other breast instead.
But this time she knew what to expect, the intensity of the sensations picking up right where they left off, her body eager for his finger as he made his way inside her.
The combination was her undoing, the orgasm ripping through her, hard and strong.
The touch of his thumb on her clitoris was gasoline on the flames, sending her over the top as she cried out.
Her hearing dimmed, the intensity of the orgasm overloading her sensory circuitry, and still she wanted more.
She reached for him, finding the waistband of his jeans and fumbling with the zipper.
She pushed his jeans to the side, his hard cock tenting his black briefs and growing larger every second.
She lifted the waistband over his erection and moaned at the sight of him wanting her. She needed to touch him, needed to taste—and this was only the beginning.