Chapter Eleven #3
Jack took the plates she was holding, so he could load them in the dishwasher. ‘I can’t say I’m a gourmet chef or anything but I thought it was time I became a bit more independent.’
Sylvie followed him to the kitchen. ‘Did you ever live with a partner?’
‘No, I’ve never stayed with someone long enough for it to be a possibility.’
‘Have you ever been in love?’ Sylvie adopted a bland tone but she was intensely curious to know the answer. His lifestyle as a carefree playboy could have been borne out of having his heart broken at some stage.
Jack gave his bone-melting laugh. ‘No, and nor do I intend to. What about you?’
Sylvie shook her head. ‘I don’t think I’m one of those people who falls in love easily. My married colleagues in the practice fell for each other the first time they kissed. I just can’t imagine anyone impressing me that much.’
There was a weighted silence. Sylvie became aware of a different pressure in the air, a tightening, a thickening, a closing in feeling that felt like a spotlight was on her and Jack standing facing each other in her kitchen.
Jack’s gaze lowered to her lips at the same time hers drifted to his. The silence pulsed with possibilities, tempting, dangerously erotic possibilities.
‘It must have been a pretty awesome kiss.’ His voice was husky as if he had gargled with gravel.
‘Yes…’ Sylvie swept the tip of her tongue out over her bone-dry lips, her eyes still trained on his mouth like a powerful magnet was holding them there.
She could not move. Her feet were glued to the polished floor, her senses tingling with awareness of Jack’s proximity.
He was suddenly close enough to touch and yet she couldn’t recall moving.
It was like being cast under some sort of spell, her body was on autopilot, her rational brain switched off.
She could feel her body’s primal response to his presence, the soft tug of her female flesh, the hollow ache between her legs, a thickening and moistening of her most secret place.
Her heart rate rose, her breathing intervals changed, her willpower deserting her when she needed it most.
Jack reached out a hand and picked up a few strands of her hair and slowly coiled them around his index finger, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘I was right,’ he said, still with a husky tone that made the backs of her knees tingle.
‘About what?’ Sylvie could barely recognise her own voice; it was hardly more than a breathless thread of sound.
‘Your hair is like silk.’ He tightened the coil of hair he was holding a fraction and a hot tingle of need whispered down her spine.
He lifted her hair to his nose and briefly closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent of her hair.
‘Mmm…’ He opened his eyes again and something dropped from a height in her belly.
His eyes were mesmerising, the ice blue reminding her of an ocean, deep, mysterious, unfathomable.
Sylvie knew she should pull out of his intimate hold, knew she should put a stop to this spellbinding moment between them, but she couldn’t seem to do it.
Her body was running its own agenda, desperate to see what his intention was.
Was he flirting with her? Was he going to kiss her?
Should she allow it? Damn, she wanted him to. So badly it was an ache in her flesh.
Jack bent down so his mouth was just above hers, the breeze of his warm breath teasing her senses into a frenzy. ‘You should stop me before I go any further.’ His voice was as deep as organ pipes, a throb of sound that sent a wave of longing coursing through her body.
‘Why should I stop you when I want you to go further?’ Sylvie stared at his mouth so close to hers, studying the sculptured contours, the way his dark stubble was peppered along his jaw and chin and above his top lip in such a sexy manner.
She had to keep her hands on the cool marble of the kitchen counter to stop them exploring his jaw, to feel the pinpricks of regrowth against the skin of her hands.
She could smell the citrus notes of his aftershave that reminded her of a sunbaked lemon orchard, the base notes of wood and leather and something else which was as addictive as a mind-altering drug.
‘Because the kitchen is a mess and we both have work in the morning, but I want to make love to you for hours.’
Sylvie shivered at his words, at his touch, at his promise of pleasure she could see in his glittering gaze.
‘We both know this has to stop at some point, Jack.’ She didn’t want it to stop but she knew the longer it continued, the harder it would be for her to let go.
She was aware of the danger she was drifting into…
was already knee-deep in. She was falling for him and starting to dream about him as a life partner.
He frowned and placed his hands on her hips, holding her against his stirring body. ‘No one has found out so far, apart from your mother and Patrick.’
She twisted her lips. ‘My mother gave me a lecture about not letting work get in the way of living a full life.’
‘A full life meaning marriage and kids?’