Homecoming (13 page)
“I guess—”
“I think—”
They both spoke at once, then laughed.
Jack nodded. “Ladies first.”
“Um…” Federica looked helplessly at him, his tall broad outline limned by the porch light. He was so beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, and just being near him made her feel so relaxed and excited and above all, happy. And relaxed. And excited.
Nothing like this feeling had ever happened to her before and probably never would again. Good businesswomen seize opportunities, she reminded herself.
I want you to take me inside right now and make passionate love to me. All night, if you can.
This might be her last chance at good sex in this lifetime. She opened her mouth, waiting for the words to spill out, but they stuck in her throat.
“It’s late, and, um…”
Jack’s face was unreadable. He was silent for a long moment, then brought a hand out of his back pocket, stuck it into the front pocket of his jeans and jiggled some change there.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It
is
pretty late. Come on, I’ll drive you back.”
So much for a night of sex. With a sigh, Federica followed him out to the van.
On the ride up, Federica had a furious argument with Ellen in her head.
So, idiot. Smooth going.
Well, what did you expect me to do, strip him and throw him over my shoulder? He’s bigger than I am.
You could have asked to see his house and pretended to faint in his bedroom.
Oh, come on, Ellen. Let’s get real here.
I know, I know. Wait. How about this. When you get to the Folly, you invite him up for a nightcap then ask what he’d like for breakfast.
That’s really subtle. But it won’t work because I don’t have anything but mineral water to drink, and he’s the one who brings breakfast.
So ask if he wants to see your etchings.
There aren’t any etchings at the Folly. Ellen…he’s Uncle Frederick’s adversary. There’s a principle involved here.
Principle. Oh, puh-leeze. Federica, the only principle your Uncle Frederick understands is the kind that earns interest.
Come on, Ellen. Uncle Frederick’s not that bad.
There was a long, painful silence in Federica’s head.
Okay, okay. But still…
Still what?
Well, suppose…suppose he doesn’t want me the way I want him? Suppose I ask him and he says no?
Come on, Federica, you know the way the world works. Women rule and men drool.
That’s not true. And anyway, I can’t just…ask.
Federica, tell the truth here. Have you ever felt this way about a man before?
Who, moi? I inherited cold Mansion genes. Are you kidding? Never.
Well are you going to do something about it or not?
I don’t know, El,
Federica thought miserably
. I don’t know if I can.
The van ground to a halt and Ellen disappeared, and Federica felt lost.
“We’re here.” Jack’s deep voice sounded—what? Impatient? Annoyed?
The windows of the van were down and the sounds of the night filtered in. Funny how the night sounds had never bothered her. Federica was not a country person and had no idea what the night sounds were. Still, in all the nights she’d slept out here alone, she’d never once been afraid.
There was something so benign and comforting about the beautiful Folly.
She looked over at Jack. He was barely visible in the dark cabin. Though she couldn’t see it, she knew that there were white laugh lines in the tanned skin around his eyes. She knew that the blue of his irises changed hue whenever he felt a strong emotion. Every inch of his face and body was indelibly etched in her mind. She didn’t need to see him to know that he was the most attractive, exciting, relaxing man she’d ever met.
“Federica?”
I don’t know what to say
, she thought in despair.
I don’t know what to do
.
But her hand did. All by itself, it reached out and cupped his face.
“Jack,” she whispered helplessly.
All of a sudden she found herself dragged halfway across Jack’s lap, with the stick shift digging into her thigh and the steering wheel cutting into her back. She didn’t care. She didn’t even feel it, because Jack was kissing her and she was falling into the kiss as if it were an abyss.
He slanted his mouth over hers, his hand caught in her hair. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Their tongues tangled and she didn’t know who was doing the breathing, him or her, but there wasn’t much of it going on because they were both panting when he lifted his mouth.
“Federica.” Jack’s grip on her hair was strong enough to hurt as he pulled her head back. He looked down at her and she could see his eyes gleaming, pale in the moonless night. “I want you.”
Federica spoke three languages well and two languages badly. But at that moment there was only one word in her entire vocabulary. She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Chapter Eight
Jack flicked on the outside porch light. The big chandelier hanging from the second-story ceiling in the lobby would have shed too much light on the magic and mystery of the moment. The porch light was enough to see by. It was enough to see Federica looking at him. If he was any judge of women’s expressions—though Wyatt was the family expert on that—she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
When they crossed the threshold into the Folly, Jack pulled her to him for a brief, fierce kiss. He had one arm around her shoulder and the other hand was fondling her small, rounded bottom, which would have been perfect to swing her up into his arms if he hadn’t lifted his head for a moment to look at the long, curved wooden staircase.
Wyatt had done a wonderful job. The wood gleamed a honey blond, each gracefully lathed banister perfectly turned, the steps lacquered and shiny and…steep.
Jack stepped back and smiled down at Federica. “Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “No way.”
“Okay.” Federica sounded breathless and he felt his knees weaken at the sight of that smart, pretty face looking up at him, eyes solemn, lips swollen from his kisses. Maybe he’d try to carry her up, after all. Out of respect for romantic tradition. And because he wanted her back in his arms, badly.
She pushed him in the chest and turned. “Race you up!”
He caught her halfway up the staircase. She squealed and giggled as he caught her by the waist, then managed to wriggle free.
They tangled at the top of the stairs, his mouth on hers, his hands under the silk turquoise shell, her hands clutching his shoulders.
She broke free from his kiss. “Jack.” The whisper full of longing and desire was enough to set him off. Stairs were a no-no, but give him even footing and he could play Tarzan with the best of them. He swung her high in his arms.
Plays better in the movies
, he thought, as he staggered for a moment, then didn’t think anything at all as Federica grabbed his ears and held him still for a long kiss, making those sinful little moans into his mouth.
He staggered again. Not because she was heavy—she wasn’t—but because desire had him trembling so badly his knees were starting to give way. Good thing her room was the first one off the stairs. The Folly was being slowly restored by volunteers headed by Wyatt. If they had decided to start by restoring the room at the end of what looked like a mile-long hallway, he wouldn’t have made it. He would have sunk to the floor with Federica and they would have made love on the newly varnished parquet flooring, which was shiny and beautiful and a deep honey blond—but hard.
Hard. That was a word he couldn’t think about, or his knees really would give way. Federica shifted in his arms and deepened the kiss, and he leaned against the doorpost, trembling.
“You’ve got to stop this,” he gasped.
Her eyes fluttered open. “I do?”
“At least until we get something soft under us.”
“Okay.” She nuzzled against his neck and bit him, lightly. “But hurry.”
God. Jack tried to gather his strength and not think about her tongue, reaching out cat-like to lazily lick his neck.
It had been a long time for him. That was why he felt like he was going to explode, of course.
It was lust—sheer, mind-boggling, adolescent-level lust, something he didn’t have that much experience with anymore, but which Wyatt knew all about. And if he felt completely right with Federica, like he were coming home after a long time out in the desert, then it was just hormones. No woman could be right for him. Not after only a few days, anyway.
Then Federica fastened her mouth on his and he was lost.
Jack stumbled forward and by sheer chance met the bed with his shins. He tumbled onto the bed with her and by the time he untangled himself, he was on top of her and she had lost that blue silky thing and her bra.
How had she lost her bra? Had he ripped it off her? His hand covered her breast, and he felt her heart pounding against his hand. His own heart was thumping. He could hear it, a wild jungle drumbeat in his ears.
“Federica,” he whispered against her breast.
“Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.” She twisted, placing a hard cherry-like nipple right in front of his mouth. He licked it, then suckled, hard. She gave a wild cry, startled and excited at the same time. Her fingers dug into his head, hard, holding him to her breast.
He was going to go crazy if he didn’t have her right now. He wanted to go slowly, he wanted to caress her all over, but it was impossible to touch her quickly enough. He only had two hands.
He had to slow down.
He levered himself off her for a second and looked down. She was naked from the waist up, lovely, delicately rounded, skin glowing a pale ivory. Her nipple was red and wet from his mouth. He’d done that to her.
He bent his head and kissed her breasts again, wanting to go slowly this time, but then she sucked in her breath and arched her back, giving a throaty moan. Her hands clutched at his biceps, short fingernails digging in. She was as open as a rose in summer, inviting him in. Fragrance and softness and welcome. For a brief moment, Jack completely forgot roses had thorns and that an unwary man could get hurt.
Federica lifted her head and pulled him up to her mouth, biting his lips. “Now,” she whispered against his mouth. “
Now!
”
Jack lost it. In moments, he had stripped her of leggings and panties and shucked off his jeans and was starting to sink into her when something about the feel of bare flesh against bare flesh penetrated the heated fog in his head. He withdrew and scrabbled frantically on the floor with his hand.
“No.” Federica’s voice was faint. “Don’t stop. Please.”
“Yes. I mean no.” Jack cursed under his breath and reached further out with his hand and grunted when he found what he was looking for, ripping the condom packet open with his teeth. His fingers tangled with hers in a race to see who could put the condom on him first and they both burst into laughter.
Watching her eyes, Jack folded his hand over hers and coaxed her hand into sheathing him with the condom. When the condom was on fully, he lifted his hand away but she didn’t. Her fist was still closed tightly over him.
“I can feel your heartbeat here,” she whispered.
Jack’s entire body was one quivering cell waiting to explode. He tumbled her down onto her back and mounted her. He sank into her completely, groaning, knowing that one second more and he’d have exploded.
She was everything he’d dreamed of, soft, warm, seemingly made especially for him. His face was buried in her neck and he wanted to ask if she was all right, if he was hurting her, but then she turned her head and kissed him and started moving her hips, rocking them gently against his, then more quickly, and every thought flew out of his head. They moved together, wildly, perfectly, as if they had been made for each other, like two halves of a long-separated whole.
He wanted to slow down, draw it out, but then Federica cried out and convulsed softly around him and everything that he was, everything he ever wanted to be, ever dreamt of being, his whole heart and soul poured into her.
He lay atop her shuddering, gasping for breath, lungs fighting to pull in air. It was a long time before the shudders gradually ceased and he was able to loosen his death grip on her hips. He hoped he hadn’t crushed any bones. He wanted desperately to talk to her, to tell her that he didn’t normally make love with all the finesse of a frenzied warthog. When he got his breath back, he opened his mouth, heard the soft snuffling sounds, closed it again and grinned. He rolled off her, then reached down to pull the crumpled coverlet over Federica’s shoulders and gently folded the linen cloth around her.
She’d fallen fast asleep.
She’d had a hard day.
June 3rd
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