Unmasked (9 page)

But the heat of her skin was making his pulse thud. And less than an inch from the edge of his thumbnail he could see the outline of her nipple. It was swelling as he watched, puckering the pale green silk in a way that no red-blooded man could ignore.

“Jackson?”

He lifted his thumb and spread his fingers, holding his palm a whisper above her breast, not touching anymore yet near enough for him to feel her warmth. “Yes?”

The word hung on the air. It was less a reply than it was a question.

Charlotte met his gaze squarely, her eyes sparkling with the same honesty that had powered her laughter. The aroma of the spilled chocolate drifted around them. The stove element ticked as it cooled. Other than that, the moment stretched out in silence.

Somehow Jackson managed to hold himself motionless in spite of the demands that were surging through his body. He
used every shred of self-control he possessed to leave the choice of what happened next up to her.

They both knew she could have easily stepped back.

Instead she leaned forward and pressed herself into his hand.

Charlotte moaned in delight as Jackson closed his fingers around her breast, drowning out the voice of reason that was jabbering in her head. She wasn’t going to listen. This felt too good. Even better than the laughter.

Warmth radiated from Jackson’s palm. The thin robe and the nightgown she wore beneath it presented little barrier to his touch. He explored her slowly, squeezing gently with his fingers, rubbing lightly with the heel of his hand, letting the silk slide over her in a caress of its own. And just as she began to sway, light-headed from the pleasure, he anchored his free arm behind her waist and rolled the tip of his thumb over her nipple.

She shuddered and clutched his shoulders, arching her back in a silent request for more.

He smiled, bringing the hint of a boyish dimple to one cheek and deepening the sexy grooves beside his mouth. He moved his hand to her other breast, treating it to the same thoroughness.

There was familiarity in his touch, yet it was flavored with discovery. It was as if they were doing this for the first time all over again.

Charlotte was surprised that she felt no shyness—it had been a very long time since any man had touched her this way—yet this was Jackson, the person who had once known her better than anyone in the world. It felt more than good, it felt right.

Her lips curved with anticipation as she slid her hands down his arms. She lingered over the lean ridges of his biceps, reveling in the fine tremor that followed her touch. She’d
been wanting to touch him since she’d walked into the room and seen him standing beside the window. Hadn’t he realized how appealing he looked with his hair in a tangle and his feet bare and those jeans riding low on his hips? His chest was magnificent, broad and taut and perfectly tapered. She splayed her fingers in the center, enjoying the crisp hair that sprang back against her hands.

Not for one second did she confuse him with a boy—she was exceedingly grateful that he was all grown up. Smiling, she followed the dark line that led to his navel. It was only then that she realized he hadn’t fastened the stud on the waistband of his jeans.

She focused on the open stud and then the naked skin and hint of black hair that showed behind it. He wasn’t wearing underwear. Her gaze dropped lower. Heat rushed to her cheeks, her belly and her thighs.

He cupped the back of her neck. “Charlotte?”

She looked up. Tension hardened his jaw. At the base of his throat she could see his pulse racing.

It was another moment when things could go either way. It still wasn’t too late. Going further wasn’t smart. It was crazy. Pointless.

But as she already knew, there had never been anything logical about their relationship, had there? Moistening her lips, she hooked her fingers in his waistband.

His breathing changed, growing ragged. Frank arousal shone in his eyes as he gave her a smile that sent a thrill clear down to her toes. Holding her gaze, he eased her back over his arm. Then he lowered his head and licked the drops of chocolate from her robe.

If it had started as a game, it wasn’t one now. She could feel his tongue through the silk. The moistened fabric clung to her skin as he moved his mouth over her, increasing the friction, heightening the sensation in a way that was more erotic than if she’d been naked. He took his time, working his way to her throat and the special spot beneath the corner of her jaw where his kiss used to make her shudder.

It still did. Within minutes she was shaking with need. She dug her nails into his back, her breath coming in sharp bursts. “Jackson…” She tunneled her fingers into his hair and lifted his head. “Jackson, please.”

He straightened up, pulled her with him and answered her plea with a kiss. It was unlike any they’d shared before. There was nothing tentative or gentle about it. Hard and hot, he stroked his tongue against hers and clamped his hand on her buttocks. Fitting her to his body, he slipped his leg between her thighs, triggering a response that took the strength from her knees. Before she could fall, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off the floor and backed her across the room.

Her shoulders hit the wall beside the doorway, driving her body into his with a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Trembling, she reached down to grab her robe and her nightgown and yanked the fabric up to her waist. A zipper rasped. Denim slid against her most sensitive skin. Jackson shifted to brace his legs apart and held her against the wall with the weight of his body. Straining, breathless, she tilted her hips to meet him.

This was like nothing they’d shared before either. It was wild and raw, sex at its most basic. Instinct took over as she matched
his rhythm stroke for stroke, savoring his thrusts and reveling in his strength. Passion built past the point of reason….

Charlotte never realized when she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the magic.

S
HE AWOKE TO THE
smell of coffee. Charlotte opened one eye groggily and squinted at the steaming mug that sat on the trunk beside her bed. Her eyelids felt stiff. So did every joint in her body. She couldn’t remember fixing coffee already. She must have fallen back to sleep again. Maybe it was time to cut back on the caffeine. Or at least get a new mattress.

“Good morning, Charlie.”

Her eyes flew open. “Jackson?”

The mattress dipped, rolling her onto her back. Jackson knelt beside her hip and smiled. “How are you feeling?”

She was never at her best when she first woke up, but the fuzziness of her brain now wasn’t due to the time of day, it was because of Jackson. The sight of a man like that in her bedroom would muddle any woman’s mind.

His hair was wet, combed back from his forehead and firmly in place for a change. The skin on his jaw had the unique gleam that followed a fresh shave. He’d put on his pants, but his shirt was still unbuttoned, the sides hanging loose against his chest. The scent of soap and warm early-morning male drifted through her senses. It was far more stimulating than coffee.

She groaned and put her forearm over her eyes. She needed time to think.

Bedsprings creaked and the blanket pulled tight across her chest as he stretched out on the covers beside her. “I’m not going to apologize.”

“Jackson—”

“Not about what we did, anyway. I feel too good this morning to pretend that I’m sorry. But as far as the way we did it…” He paused. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

The stiffness in her body wasn’t her only discomfort. She was tender in the most personal places.

Yet overall she had nothing to complain about physically. In fact, she couldn’t remember waking up with such a total feeling of well-being. The sex had been wonderful. Actually it had been better than she’d believed was possible. For her, anyway. She lifted her arm from her eyes and turned her head to look at Jackson.

It had been twelve years since she’d lived with a man. Much longer than that since she’d slept with one. By the end of her marriage, she and Adrian had shared little more than a few stilted conversations over breakfast and their daily ride to work.

Yet even in the early days with Adrian she hadn’t enjoyed sex. She’d been convinced the fault had been hers, an assumption he’d been quick to reinforce. That was one of the main reasons she’d grown to believe she wasn’t suited to marriage.

Yet the satisfaction she’d experienced last night with Jackson had been bone-deep and indisputable. “I’m fine,” she said.

“I might have been overenthusiastic.”

Oh, yes, he’d been enthusiastic—she could feel the twinge of bruises from hitting the wall to prove it. The kitchen wall. It was a good thing he’d carried her to the bed afterward, since he’d melted her knees. Her cheeks heated, but she refused to
be embarrassed. She’d been a willing participant in that wild ride. “We both were, Jackson.”

He folded his arm under his cheek and picked up a lock of her hair from the pillow. “Don’t regret what we did, Charlotte,” he murmured.

“It was dumb.”

“Why?”

“Do I really need to spell it out? I thought we agreed we were just friends. That’s all we can be. We have different goals and different lives. Nothing has changed.”

He wound her hair around his finger. “It doesn’t have to.”

“But—”

“Hear me out. I’ve been thinking about this. We know who we are and we know our priorities. Sleeping together doesn’t change any of that, does it?”

“Of course not.”

“Be honest, Charlotte.” He stroked her cheek with the ends of her hair. “You wanted to have sex with me, didn’t you?”

She moved her head to brush a kiss across his fingers. “Yes, Jackson, but—”

“And you feel better this morning than if we hadn’t had sex, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts,” he said, pressing his index finger to her lips. “This isn’t complicated. With the pressure we’ve both been under, we needed a release like this.”

Maybe it was because her brain still wasn’t functioning at full gear, but she couldn’t think of a way to dispute that. “You’re making it sound as if it wasn’t dumb.”

“I’m just trying to be logical.”

“It’s hard to be logical when we’re having this conversation in bed.”

“I can’t think of a better place to have it.” He moved his finger from her lips to her neck, then traced his way along her jaw to the base of her ear. “We’re two consenting adults with some exceptional physical chemistry. Why shouldn’t we relax and enjoy what we’ve got?”

Once again she couldn’t think of a reason to protest. Being responsible and sensible had never left her feeling
this
good.

So why shouldn’t they enjoy themselves? He was right. Maybe she had been making this too complicated. She and Jackson were adults, not idealistic kids with false expectations. That’s what had led to the pain in the past. It was different now. They knew what they both wanted and they were being realistic. What harm would there be….

Oh, she couldn’t think when he touched her like that. She trailed her hand along his arm. “As long as we’re clear that what happened was just sex.”

He pressed closer and slid his leg over hers. “Well, it wasn’t
just
sex.”

“No?”

“It was curl-your-toes-and-singe-your-eyebrows sex.”

She laughed. “We’re certainly better at it than we used to be.”

He dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “In my defense, I was just a horny teenager. I didn’t know what I was doing back then.”

She laid her cheek against his damp hair, engulfed by a wave of memories. She and Jackson had lost their virginity together. In spite of all the hand-holding and necking they had done when they’d dated, she’d been a good girl, so she’d
made him wait until after they had graduated high school before she’d agreed to go “all the way.”

It hadn’t been the romantic rapture she’d expected. They’d been too young and naive to know what they were doing. Their first encounter had been on a stack of blankets in the back of his father’s delivery van. It had been furtive, painful and a crashing disappointment. The subsequent attempts had embarrassed him and frustrated her. But before they’d found the opportunity to practice, he’d gone off to college. Still trying to cling to her fantasy of romance, she had decided to save any further intimacy for their wedding night.

Of course, as it had turned out, she hadn’t ended up marrying Jackson. But her response to physical intimacy had never gotten much better. It was only natural that she would assume the problem lay with her.

She stroked his back, spreading her fingers as she followed the ridges of his shoulder blades. “Neither of us knew what we were doing back then, Jackson.”

“But we do now.”

Was that what made the difference? Were they simply more skilled? More likely it was because of all the stress they’d been under recently, just as he’d said.

They had both really,
really
needed this.

Something that felt suspiciously like a giggle rose in her throat. “I suppose.”

He lifted his head and looked at her. “You suppose? Want to see the scratches you gave me?”

Smiling, she reached up to push back the hair that had fallen over his forehead—once it dried, there would be no keeping it in place. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

He touched his fingertips to the corner of her mouth. “No, that smile speaks for itself.”

“Uh-huh.” She licked the side of his finger. “And what does it say?”

“Hang on, I’d better get a second opinion.” He grasped the edge of the sheet and eased it downward, then whistled softly at what he’d revealed. “Why, Miss Charlotte, I do believe you’re shouting.”

She stretched her arms over her head, luxuriating in his regard. She still hadn’t touched her coffee, yet her body was awakening at a record pace.

He stroked his knuckle along the underside of her breast. “You’ve grown, you know.”

“Have I?”

“Oh, yeah. Ripened. Filled out. You’re a beautiful woman, Charlie.”

Blood began to pulse in every tender area. Stress, need, whatever she wanted to call it, it was happening again. She shifted her hips so she could put her hand on his thigh. “You’ve changed, too.”

“I’ve grown bigger?”

She could tell by his smile what he wanted to hear, so she decided to tease him. “You’re hairier.”

He slid on top of her, then leaned back on his heels to straddle her thighs. “Is there anything else you happened to notice?”

“You’re, uh, slower.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I should hope so.”

She sat up and slipped her hands under his shirt. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven. What time do you need to be at the hotel?”

“My first appointment isn’t until ten.”

“That gives us—” He stopped. “Damn!”

“What’s wrong?”

He kissed her forehead, then eased backward, away from her touch. “I wasn’t prepared for what happened last night, but we can’t take any more chances. I need to find a drugstore.”

It took her a second to realize he was talking about birth control. It was lucky that he’d remembered—why hadn’t she thought of it herself? Her brain really was having trouble functioning when it came to this man. She caught the edges of his shirt before he could retreat further. “Check my purse. It’s in the living room.”

“Your purse?”

“Renee gave me a box of condoms yesterday.”

Jackson hadn’t slowed down that much after all, Charlotte decided, laughing as he sprinted through the doorway.

J
ACKSON HOOKED HIS
heel on a rung of the bar stool, unconsciously moving his head and shoulders in time to the beat that wove through the jazz. He’d heard that the woman who was singing, Holly Carlyle, used to perform regularly here at the Hotel Marchand until she’d started to sing in her boyfriend’s club, but in the party spirit of Mardi Gras, she was putting in a guest appearance tonight. The show was a treat—Holly’s vocals were pure, easy and perfectly in tune with the mellow tones of the saxophone that played in the background.

And speaking of being in tune… Jackson moved his gaze to the table where Charlotte sat. Although she was immersed in her conversation with Melanie, her foot was keeping time with the beat. He liked the look of her in those high heels. They
made her legs look sexy and gave a little wiggle to her walk. He liked her habit of wearing skirts rather than pants, too. She’d left the tailored suit jacket and blouse at home today and had worn a sweater instead. To someone who didn’t know her, the beige cashmere might seem conservative, almost bland, giving no hint of the passionate woman it masked.

As if she felt his regard, she turned her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes sparkled in a brief private smile before she returned her attention to her sister.

That was all it took for his body to respond. He shifted to find a more comfortable position on his stool, his mouth lifting wryly at his lack of control. He would have thought after those hours in her bed this morning his desire would have started to wane. Instead it was only getting stronger. He might not be a teenager anymore, but he still had the appetite of one.

He wouldn’t have guessed that he and Charlotte would be so compatible in bed, considering how disastrous their teenage attempts at sex had been. On the other hand, the circumstances they found themselves in were exceptional. As he’d reasoned earlier, given their current situation, they’d both benefited from physical release. In fact, it was healthy.

What had he been so worried about? It was sex, that’s all. He wasn’t going to open any old wounds. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to make the mistake of falling in love with Charlotte Marchand again.

At the thought, his smile faded. No, he wouldn’t fall in love. It wasn’t part of the equation this time. They were both clear about why they were together—he was helping her get through the next few days, that was all.

Jackson did a slow survey of the barroom, noting the uni
formed security guards near the entrances. Several more who weren’t wearing uniforms blended in with the crowd. As he looked past the door to the service corridor, he saw a tall man walk through and head purposefully toward Charlotte’s table. Jackson didn’t try to intercept him—it was Robert LeSoeur. The women had been waiting for him to arrive so they could discuss the refreshments for Tuesday night’s ball.

Robert sat beside Melanie and draped his arm across the back of her chair. He didn’t try to hide how he felt about the youngest Marchand sister. The love on his face was obvious, and why not? Those two shared the same profession. They worked in the same place and had the same goals. They were obviously well suited for each other. Neither one was expected to give up anything for the other.

But he wasn’t going to open old wounds, Jackson reminded himself.

“Sorry, Luc. I think you’ve had enough.”

Jackson looked toward the voice. The pair of customers who had occupied the stools beside him had departed, giving him a clear view of the man who sat at the end of the bar.

It was Luc Carter, the hotel’s concierge. He was still wearing his uniform blazer, but the knot of his tie hung loosely and his shirt collar was unbuttoned. His normally neat blond hair was furrowed, as if he’d been raking his hands through it. He rapped his empty glass against the bar. “I haven’t had anywhere near enough, Leo. Give me another.”

“I’m trying to do you a favor, man,” the bartender said, easing the empty glass from his hand. “You want to make an ass of yourself in front of the boss? Miss Charlotte is right over there.”

Luc twisted to look behind him and nearly tipped off his stool. He grabbed the edge of the bar to retain his balance. “Come on, I finished my shift. Just one more.”

Jackson moved down the bar and sat beside Luc. “How’s your wrist?”

Luc blinked to focus on him, his eyelids sluggish. “Fine, doc. Couldn’t be better.”

The scent of alcohol on Luc’s breath confirmed what his disheveled appearance and lack of coordination had already made apparent. It was no wonder the bartender had refused to serve him—this man appeared to be as drunk as Jackson had been tempted to get the night before.