Naked Truth (Crimson Romance) (8 page)

In the meantime, he moved, rolling his hips, shaking his ass, obligingly focusing his attention on the first of the four bachelorettes Danny had earlier pointed out. She was young and pretty, with Carolina eyes, blond hair and pouting red lips, and she wasn’t afraid to cop a feel. Jack let her slip the twenty into his loincloth, and then stepped out of reach.

He did his routine, letting the throbbing beat seep into his limbs, dancing close enough to let a grabby lady slip another tip into his loincloth, and then stepping out of reach again. The ladies loved it. They shouted and panted and waved more money at him. He suspected that if he really did do this for a living, he could make more money than he made as an FBI agent.

He spotted her because Vanessa spotted him. Cullen’s sister-in-law suddenly started jumping up down, screaming, “Jack! Jack!” waving her arms in the air. Kennedy grabbed her and tried to get her to stop, but Vanessa shook her off. Making an instant decision, he danced his way to the two ladies. He leapt off the stage and landed right between them.

Vanessa screamed again and grabbed for him. He let her catch him, let her pull him close, and then he bent and whispered into her ear, “Tonight, I’m not Jack. I’m the Animal. Don’t call me Jack or I won’t pay attention to you.” Vanessa nodded eagerly and kissed his oil and sweat slicked chest.

But it wasn’t Vanessa he wanted to see. To touch. To feel.

He turned to Kennedy. He wasn’t sure what he initially intended to do, since all those things he wanted to do weren’t exactly appropriate in the middle of a public venue, even if it was during a strip show. She stood there looking at him, wearing a sexy little halter top and short skirt and a slightly jealous look on her face, and he had a crazy urge to pull her into his arms—just a hug—and whisper reassurances that she had nothing at all to be jealous of.

What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t recall ever acting this way about any of his past lays. Why now? Why her?

The look on her face changed, her brows furrowed, and she looked concerned, jolting Jack back into reality and making him realize he was standing there staring at her like a dumb lovestruck teen.

The music, the screaming, the job all came into focus in a rush, and he gritted his teeth against the unwelcome intrusion. It pissed him off because all he wanted to do was grab her wrist and drag her from the club, take her home with him, and freaking do something about this ache in his balls.

But he couldn’t. Whatever the hell was going on in his head, in his personal life, it didn’t matter—couldn’t matter—right now. He had a job to do. He had to dance, he had to protect the other dancers, and he had to find a killer.

He tried to force himself to turn away, to get back on that stage and dance over to the waiting bachelorette parties, but instinct took over at that point. He grabbed Kennedy’s waist and twisted her around so that she faced the stage. She automatically reached out her hands to catch herself on the edge, and Jack pressed his rock hard erection into her backside as he leaned into her and caught her earlobe between his teeth.

He whispered in her ear, singing the song’s erotic chorus, and then he released her and leapt back onto the stage.

More screaming. Vanessa waved a fistful of bills. Kennedy sank into her seat with a bemused look on her face. Ignoring his body’s pleas, Jack turned away from the sight.

He had a job to do.

• • •

He was an FBI agent, so he had easy access to all sorts of information. He wasn’t supposed to use his job connections for personal use, of course, but this time he made an exception. He had to see Kennedy, and therefore, he needed to know where she lived, so he used his government-issue laptop, punched in a series of passwords and fail safes, and without an ounce of guilt, pulled up Kennedy’s address and phone number.

His blood was running hot, and he was still so damn hard, it was difficult to drive. Luckily, Jack knew New Orleans like he knew the back of his hand, and Kennedy lived in an eclectic neighborhood that wasn’t too far from the downtown entertainment district.

The dancers were inclined to hang out at the club after closing, drinking and flirting with the handful of girls handpicked for such a privilege, but since Kennedy wasn’t one of them, he wouldn’t have any of it. He talked Cullen into playing the bad guy who bullied everyone into leaving so that he could finally be off the clock. Still, it was three in the morning before Jack was in his truck and heading down the street to Kennedy’s house.

The house was dark and still when he pulled into the driveway. He double-checked to make sure he had the right address, because he did not want to wake up the wrong people in the middle of the night. Then he dialed her cell phone number. Her voice was sleepy and muffled when she answered.

“Get out of bed and open the door for me, Kennedy.”

“Who is this?” she asked, her voice suddenly becoming more alert.

“Jack. I’m standing on your front porch right now.”

“You’re—what?” He heard rustling noises, indicative of her climbing out of bed and pulling on a robe or some other garment, and he wondered what she normally wore to bed. Nothing? He shifted uncomfortably.

“Open the door. Hurry up.”

He spent half a second fearing that she wasn’t alone, but she’d told him at the wedding that she didn’t normally do one-night stands. Considering Cullen and Sabrina had gotten married only a month ago, he felt reasonably confident she hadn’t met a new guy in the interim. Or if she had, she wasn’t already sleeping with him.

He hoped.

“Is something wrong? Is Sabrina okay?” She sounded faintly breathless, and he knew she was moving, heading his way.

“She’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Just open the goddamned door.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket and palmed it as he shifted from foot to foot.

Finally, he saw an image behind the etched glass. He winced as the porch light flared to life. The lock snicked, and the door began to open. Jack didn’t give her time to think. He pushed it open, stepped inside, and shoved it closed, locking it and disconnecting his phone at the same time. He grabbed her face with both hands and pressed her against the wall as his lips crashed down on hers, desperate to feel her, to taste her.

He felt like he was drowning but in heaven all at the same time. It was arousing as hell.

Kennedy broke the kiss and twisted her head before she reached up and pulled one of his hands away from her cheek. “What is that?” she asked, and she plucked the wrapped condom out of his hand.

“Oh,” she said as she stared at the small square with the round imprint in the middle.

“I need this, Kennedy,” he said, cupping her face again. “I need you. That place. That song. Seeing you there. I’m so fucking horny right now, I feel like I’m about to explode. Please don’t say no.” He was pleading, and he didn’t even care. He would do whatever it took, just so long as he could feel her again tonight.

“I … oh … okay.”

“Thank fucking God,” Jack breathed, and he bent over, grabbed her thighs, and lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

She pointed down the hall to the right, so he carried her that way. Her bedroom was at the end of the hall, in the back corner of the ranch home. He dropped her onto the bed, which was a simple queen with a basic wooden headboard that had plenty of nicks and scratches. He leaned over her and untied the sash of her robe, pushing the material aside to reveal a lace-trimmed camisole and a pair of boxer shorts. He climbed onto the bed and buried his face in her cleavage.

“You took a shower,” she said. “But you still smell like baby oil.”

“Sorry,” he said, not really sorry at all. “You’re okay with this? You aren’t going to regret this in the morning?”

“It’s already morning. And I don’t regret it.”

He sat up and tugged off his shirt, then pulled off his jeans. He reached down and pulled her camisole over her head, slid her boxers down to her ankles.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered reverently. “I want to take my time and kiss every damn inch, but …”

“It’s okay,” she assured him.

He kicked off his boxers and snagged the condom she still held in her hand. “I have more,” he promised, and then he sheathed himself, nudged her thighs apart with his knee, grabbed her hips, and thrust. He gurgled out a guttural, groaning noise as the sensations slammed into him, sending him almost instantly spiraling out of control. He dropped his forehead onto the pillow next to her head and began pushing into her, hard and fast, completely lost in the moment, almost entirely lost in his own need. He was vaguely aware of Kennedy crying out, and he hoped to hell she found her release because he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t have stopped if the fucking world collapsed at that very moment.

He thrust one last time, arched his back, and shouted out his release as pleasure tore through him. He only just managed to roll onto his side so that he didn’t crush her before he was asleep.

• • •

He was still in her bed when she woke up later that morning. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised by that. Maybe because of the way he’d shown up, in the middle of the night, acting as if he’d needed to couple with her in order to go on living. It had been so damn arousing, she’d had an orgasm almost the instant he’d entered her, yet she’d still half expected he would wake up and slip out during the pre-dawn hours.

But he hadn’t. And now she wondered what that meant. Would he expect her to cook breakfast? Would he be interested in morning sex? She certainly was. Having that handsome, sexy body lying next to her, taking up far too much space on her ancient, queen-sized bed, giving off enough body heat that she didn’t even need the thin sheet and blanket—how could a woman possibly resist?

She didn’t know, though, what he was thinking, or how he would react, or even when he might wake up, so she did nothing, except continued to lay there and marvel at what happened the night before.

Seeing him at that club, dancing up there on the stage, had been shocking enough. Watching him leap off the stage and let Vanessa pull him into her arms had had her seeing green with envy. Until he’d rubbed that fabulous erection against her own backside. Whispering about how he wanted to fuck her. He’d certainly put action to words earlier this morning.

Oh Lord, had he.

She heard a groan and twisted her head to watch as Jack gradually came awake. He rolled onto his back and stretched, and then he winced as he blinked open his liquid-brown eyes. “I feel like I got run over by a Mack truck,” he muttered. “Shit.”

Kennedy hesitated. Of all the scenarios sifting through her head, that comment had not been one of them. “Er, would you like some ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, in a minute.” He glanced at her. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

He looked down at himself. The used condom still hung from his rapidly swelling erection. He plucked a tissue from the box on the bedside table, and used it to dispose of the evidence.

“Shit, Kennedy, I didn’t mean to … to use you like that. I don’t know what the hell came over me.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

He scowled and sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover his lap as he dropped his head into his hands. “No, it’s not okay. Jesus, I can’t believe I fucking showed up here in the middle of the night, screwed you for like ten seconds, and then passed out. I feel like such a dick.”

She reached over and touched his arm. “It was more like three minutes,” she assured him with laughter in her voice. “And you asked my permission at least half a dozen times first.”

“But still …”

She let her hand rest on his arm. “You can make it up to me now, if you’d like.”

He stared at her hand, and then lifted his eyes to stare at her face. “How?”

She smiled, thinking how silly he was to be so worried. “Do you ever stick around for morning sex, when you’re with … other women?” she asked shyly.

She felt him tense beside her. Had she overstepped some invisible boundary, that he would prefer to simply rush from her bed and get as far away from her as possible, as quickly as possible?

His arm slipped around her waist, and then she was flat on her back with Jack looming over her, holding himself up with his elbows. “Not often enough,” he said, and he bent his head and kissed her.

She squirmed underneath him. He lifted his head and flipped her over onto her stomach. She sucked in a breath and held it as he covered her with his body.

“Can I do this?” he asked, and she felt a hand between her legs, felt his fingers slide up her inner thigh, slick through the wetness there. She spread her legs wider and gasped.

“Yes,” she assured him, and she arched as he pressed two fingers into her, pumping, mimicking the act of sex while he rolled his hips and rubbed his erection against her backside. She felt his lips on her back, nibbling on her shoulder blade, his teeth tugging on her ear. She moaned.

“Yes!”

Jack abruptly stopped teasing her and leapt from the bed. A chill ran up her spine as her body was hit with a blast of cool morning air. She turned her head and saw him standing next to the bed, bending over the jeans he’d tossed onto the floor the night before. He dropped his wallet on the bedside table and covered her body again. She shivered.

“Sorry,” he said as he kissed her shoulder. “Needed one of these.” He held up the now empty condom wrapper and then dropped it onto the bedside table next to his wallet.

His fingers probed her opening again. His lips returned to her back. His erection rubbed against her inner thigh as his fingers continued to work her. She began to pant and squirm.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured next to her ear, relentlessly pressing his fingers in and out, in a steady rhythm.

Kennedy felt that all-too-familiar sensation, and began to chant, “Yes, oh yes. Yes, oh yes.”

“Tell me when,” he whispered.

Just as the first wave hit her, she shouted, “When!”

He withdrew his fingers and slammed into her, pushing so hard that her head bumped the headboard. She didn’t have any time to recover, though, as the motion sent her orgasm spiraling out of control, her hips bucked, and he drove into her again and again, dragging out her orgasm until he found his own release.