Some kind of wonderful (17 page)

That small, lonely voice in the corner of his mind thought to warn her. To tell her to back off and throw his ass out of her apartment while she still could. He was no good for her. No good for anyone. But dammit, it had been so long. He couldn't give her up, he thought, as sensations washed over him like high tide reclaiming the dry shoreline. His senses were on overload and he wanted more.

He held her closer, pressing her body to his, and couldn't feel enough of her. She groaned again and tore her mouth from his, gasping for air, her lungs heaving for it. He dropped his head to the curve of her neck and tasted her skin, soft, sweet. Her scent filled him, imprinting itself on his mind, and he knew he'd never be completely free of the memory of her.

"God, you taste good," he murmured against her neck.

She shivered in his grasp and tipped her head to one side, giving him access, offering herself. She swept her hands up to his shoulders and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. He felt the imprint of her fingers as clearly as though she held a match on each one of her fingertips.

She moved against him, rubbing her body along his, stoking the flames within until they licked at his soul and threatened to engulf him. He'd never known anything like it. Never experienced this incredible urgency. She was all. She was everything. And right now ... she was his.

He stared down at her for one long minute, indulging himself in the shine of her eyes. Her breath came fast and hard, her lips were swollen, puffy, and even more tempting than usual. As he bent his head to kiss her again, she went up on her toes to meet him.

It was a brief, soul-shattering, brush of mouth to mouth and left him even more staggered than before.

"Jack ..." She sighed his name and something inside him shifted with the fierce strength of an 8.5 earthquake.

He didn't want to feel it. Didn't want to acknowledge that there was more here than bodies moving against each other. It was easier—so much easier—to tell himself that it was only sex.

Chemistry.

Hell, hormones.

But even he couldn't believe that—so he buried the truth in a dark, quiet corner of his heart and fought to keep it there.

"I need to touch you," he whispered, voice tight, throat strangling with the need roaring up to snatch at him.

"Me, too," she said and swallowed hard. "Need to be touched. Need you to touch me. Now."

His hands dropped to the hem of her shirt and pushed up and under it, scraping along her rib cage up to the firm, soft mounds of her breasts. A groan sounded from his chest as his hands cupped her, his thumbs and forefingers tweaking her nipples, pulling, teasing, rubbing.

She sighed and leaned into him, pressing her body more firmly into his touch, silently demanding more. Demanding that he feed the fire he'd built inside her.

"So good," he muttered and thought it would be great if he could just take time enough to yank the shirt up and over her head. But he couldn't stop touching her long enough to do it. Couldn't bring himself to lose the pleasure of her body in his hands.

His gaze clouded, his brain short-circuited, and his breath stopped hard in his lungs when Carol shifted in his grasp. Reaching down, she grabbed at her shirt and pulled it off herself.

Carol couldn't breathe.

There didn't seem to be enough air in the room. She kept trying, but it was as though the oxygen in the room had thickened and she couldn't pull enough into her lungs. Her brain was dazzled and her gaze was a little gray at the edges, but she saw all she needed to see.

The shutters in his eyes had lifted. Just enough to give her a glimpse of the man beyond them. She saw

hunger—raw and powerful—in his gaze. And she saw tenderness that seemed to surprise him. She saw the rapid pulse beat at the base of his throat and heard his ragged breaths as he too fought for air.

Then she shifted her gaze, looking down at his big, strong hands cupped over her breasts. His fingers, long, tanned, spread over her much paler flesh, and as he stroked her nipples again, she shivered with a tremor that raced along her bloodstream and settled low in her belly. Breath staggered from her lungs and she hoped desperately she'd be able to draw another, because she didn't want to miss a thing.

His hands moved on her body, stroking, smoothing, and she watched, as if hypnotized. She couldn't tear her gaze from the sight of him touching her. An ache pooled in her center and throbbed to the beat of her heart. A curl of something warm and liquid rolled through her, spiral-ing out to every corner of her body. Tiny tentacles of need reached out for places inside her she'd thought couldn't be touched. And once there, that need ripened until it rose, screaming, to her brain.

"Jack—don't stop," she managed to say and couldn't figure out how she'd managed to squeeze those few words past the knot lodged in her throat.

"Not a chance," he assured her. His voice was a low, almost dangerous rumble of sound and it set off a whole new set of explosions deep inside her.

His thumbs and forefingers continued to work her nipples and she felt the deep, drawing sensation all the way to the soles of her feet. She struggled for air and then thought, Screw it. Breathing was overrated anyway.

Lifting both hands, she covered his and held him to her while he stroked her breasts. She felt each shift of his fingers, went with him as he moved his hands up and

down her body, linked her fingers with his and felt her own flesh as if for the first time.

From somewhere behind her, she heard Quinn whining softly and she fought to focus. "It's all right, Quinn," she murmured and gasped as Jack bent his head to briefly take first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth. "Oh, God," she said on a sigh. "It's so all right."

The big dog wasn't convinced though and stood up to lean against her, putting his solid weight into pressing her up against Jack. With her abdomen flush against his, she felt his body, thick and hard, and her own went up in flames in response.

Oh, man.

"That's it," Jack muttered.

"It?" she repeated, babbling now. Eyes wide, she stared up at him, horrified, babbling. "What do you mean, that's it? You can't leave me like this."

"And I can't do what I want to do to you in front of your trained bear." He looked over her shoulder at the animal and glared at him. Then bending, he scooped her up into his arms, lifted her off the floor, and stalked across the room to the hallway.

Quinn's nails clicked along right behind him and Carol shot the big dog a look over Jack's shoulder. She should probably feel guilty about this, she thought. But she didn't. It wasn't every day some gorgeous man picked her up and carried her off to be ravished. Ravished. God, what a good word. She swallowed hard. "Go lay down, Quinn."

Jack stepped into her bedroom, kicked the door closed behind him, and then walked to her bed. Dropping her onto the mattress, he stared down at her while he ripped his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. He rummaged in his wallet, came up with a condom and gripped it in one tight fist.

"Always prepared?" she asked, a smile in her voice despite the tension rippling through her body.

"Hell, it's so old it might not work."

"I'll risk it."

In seconds, he'd stripped but hardly gave Carol a moment to enjoy the view before he was leaning over her.

"Get outta those clothes, Baker," he muttered, his fingers working at the button of her denim shorts.

"Oh, yeah," she whispered brokenly as she did her best to help him with a zipper that wouldn't give. "Right there with ya, buddy."

The damn thing stuck, but Jack didn't let that stop him. Grabbing hold of the two edges of her shorts, he broke the zipper, ripped the shorts and her ivory lace panties down and off her legs, and tossed them onto the floor beside his jeans. "I'll buy you a new pair."

"No problem," she said, already reaching for him as he tore open the condom foil and sheathed himself.

The antique quilt beneath her felt cool and soft against her skin. Moonlight speared through the gap in the curtains and a whisper of an ocean breeze sneaked beneath the partially open window.

He climbed onto the bed, scraping his palms up along her legs as he moved. That pale wash of light from the moon outside splayed across his broad chest and sculpted him in a silvery glow that stole what was left of Carol's breath. He was tanned and fit and strong and just looking at him was enough to curl her toes.

Then as he touched her, his fingers spearing into the damp heat waiting for him, she bucked, her hips coming off the bed, her feet planting themselves firm on the mattress. Her hands fisted in the quilt and hung on for dear life. It had been so long, she felt her body hum into

action at top speed. In seconds, she was near a peak she suddenly didn't want to rush to. She wanted to enjoy this, dammit. She didn't want it to be over before it began.

But she didn't seem to be able to stop herself.

"Jack!"

He touched her deeper, faster. Thumb stroking over the sensitive nub of her sex until the world spun behind her closed eyes and all she could do was hang on to the bed beneath her.

"Enjoy," he whispered. "Take it."

"I want—" She swallowed thickly, tossed her head from side to side, and lifted her hips into his hand. "I want to feel you—"

"You will," he promised, that deep voice humming in the air around her like a drone of bees.

"It's coming—" She couldn't stop it. Couldn't hold it back. It was too much. Too hard. Too fast. Too deep. She rode the crest as it lifted her higher and higher. Her hips rocked, her breath staggered in time with a ragged heartbeat, and then he plunged two fingers inside her and she knew she couldn't wait. Couldn't hold it back. And she gave in to the shimmering glory of it, crying out his name as the world splintered into colorful shards and crashed down around her.

"Oh, God," she whispered as the last of the tremors raced through her.

"Again," he whispered and dipped his fingers deeper inside her, stroking her body with smooth strokes designed to send her up in flames one more time.

"I can't—" Oh, she wanted to. Wanted it more than anything, but as he touched her deeply, intimately, she thought she just might shatter. But even as she considered it, she thought it would be a hell of a way to go.

"Jack—"

"Right here, Baker," he muttered thickly and slid up the length of her, rubbing his hard body along hers until new, brighter, starbursts of sensation splintered behind her eyes.

She rocked her hips and opened her legs wider, wanting to feel him again. Need began its slow, deliberate build and she discovered that she could go again. And more than that, she needed to go again. But she wanted to feel more than his fingers inside her. She wanted him to fill her. To slide into her body and complete it. To ease the budding ache within and begin a new fire that would erupt around them both.

Jack couldn't touch her deeply enough. Having her unravel at his touch had unnerved him. Feeling her body fist and tremble around his hand, he'd given himself up to the pleasure of watching her dissolve. Of seeing her eyes go wide and glassy. Of hearing her breath choke from her lungs. Of feeling her body tremble.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears. The world had narrowed to this one bed. This one woman. This one moment.

Her damp heat called to him. He needed her now even more than he had before. He wanted to bury himself inside her and ride the wave of satisfaction with her this time. And then he wanted to do it all again. And again. Watching the soft brown of her eyes shine and dazzle with pleasure and need, he felt an invisible fist squeeze his heart. There was more here. More than he would ever be able to claim, and that knowledge nibbled at his mind even as his body demanded his full attention.

First one finger, then two, he dipped within her, reveling in the soft, damp heat that surrounded him. This was what he'd craved. This was what he'd needed so desperately.

This woman.

This night.

She opened wider for him and he glanced down to where his hand met heaven, and everything in him yearned for more. Pulse beats of urgency thundered through his head. He couldn't wait. Couldn't last another minute without being a part of her.

She was a siren's song. She was everything that had been missing from his life. And for this one moment in time, he would have it all.

He moved to position himself between her thighs and she lifted her hips in welcome. Opening her arms to him, she looked up into his eyes and held his gaze while he pushed his body into hers. One long thrust and he was buried so deeply within her, he thought wildly that he might never find his way out again. And he wondered if he would ever want to.

Her body took him in, surrounding him, holding him. She lifted her legs and locked them around his hips, keeping him tightly within until all he could feel was her. All he could see were her eyes.

He groaned and rocked against her. Her head tipped back into the bed as she arched into him, taking him deeper, more fully into her body. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close as he moved within her. He set the rhythm and she followed eagerly, her movements mirroring his in a dance that felt as old as time and as new as dawn.

"Jack," she whispered, one hand sliding around to cup his cheek, push his hair back from his face. Short, sharp breaths exploded from her lungs as he rocked her hard, harder. "Jack, it's so good ... so ... right..."

"Let go," he murmured, watching her eyes, needing

to see pleasure shimmer there when she slipped over the edge.

"No," she shook her head, licked her lips. "This time with you. Wait for you."

"Together, then," he whispered and took her hand, linking his fingers with hers.

She squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back.

Gazes locked. Emotions seared.

And in moments, still linked together, they tumbled over the precipice.

"Okay," Carol said faintly a few minutes later. "Can I just say ... wow?"

"That about covers it." He snorted a choked-off laugh and she groaned slightly. "Sorry. Too heavy."