All of Me (34 page)

But before he could even finish imagining the next position, she was leaning over him, pushing him onto his back while she
swung her leg over his waist and straddled him.

She bent her head and kissed him, spearing her tongue past lips that were parched for her. Hungrily, she ran her hands up
his arms and pinned his wrists over his head, anchoring him to the bed. She eased her body down over his erect, throbbing
shaft, and he sucked in his breath as her tongue stoked his passion.

The temptress moved over him, her flesh soft and moist and hot. God, she was glorious, and he reveled in the feel of her.

He was lost, swept away in a vortex of lust. A part of him, the part he didn’t want to recognize, admitted he’d never felt
this kind of desire before. Not with any other woman. Not even with Aimee.

Immediately he felt disloyal, and he would have lost his erection if the temptress hadn’t chosen that moment to squeeze him
tightly with her inner muscles.

He laughed aloud and she laughed with him, and in that moment, the temptress disappeared and it was just Jillian. His friend.
Who had tonight become his lover.

Her hair was a tumble about her shoulders. Her dark eyes glazed with lust as fierce as his own. Her mouth was swollen from
his rough kisses. He’d worked her over as fully as she was working him.

Raw, primal sex consumed them, and they tumbled about the bed, slinging pillows, mussing sheets, grappling and groaning and
doing wild, wonderful things to each other.

“You … are … amazing,” he managed to say, and then he was atop her, pressing her into the mattress, kissing her again and
again and again while outside the storm raged on a banshee bacchanal.

I want her. Not just now, but forever. Keep her always.

The thought rumbled in the back of his brain, but he was afraid to think it, to hope for it. He’d had magic once and he’d
lost it. He was terrified to find it again in case it slipped through his fingers once more. He couldn’t bear the pain of
losing such a love again.

Not love
, he tried to convince himself. Not love, just great sex. He refused to confuse the two.

He stopped moving, not knowing what to do. Trying to banish his thoughts and just go with the feeling. He closed his eyes,
not wanting her to see the war going on inside him. Not wanting her to suspect that he was falling. He didn’t want to fall.

Not again.

She wasn’t the one. She couldn’t be the one. She wasn’t bound to stay in Salvation. And she didn’t believe in magic.

He had to stop this before it was too late. Before he was too far gone. Abruptly, he rolled out from under her.

“What … ,” she gasped. “Where …”

“I’m thirsty,” he said, not looking at her. “You want some water?”

She reached up, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her lips to his back. “I want you.”

He got up, pulled the covers over her so he wouldn’t have to see how wonderful she looked naked in the bed he’d shared with
Aimee. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Tuck?” She sounded small and lonely, and he felt like an utter bastard, but he couldn’t make himself go back to her.

“You hungry? I could heat up some leftover stew.”

“I’m hungry for you.”

Like a coward, he left her there. He ran to the kitchen. He stuck a glass under the faucet and ran the water until it was
overflowing.

And he never went back.

J
ILLIAN WAITED
, wondering what had happened. When he didn’t come back to bed after several long minutes, she got up and padded into the
living room and found him sleeping on the couch.

She told herself she wasn’t going to cry, and then she burst into tears. Wretched bastard. What was going on? She went back
to bed and reached for the phone. To her amazement, she got a dial tone in the middle of the storm. Choking back the sobs,
she called Delaney.

“Hello?” Delaney asked in a drowsy voice.

“You were asleep.”

“Jilly?”

For the first time, Jillian looked at the clock. It was eleven o’clock mountain time. That meant it was midnight in Houston.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. Please go back to sleep.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong … I …”

“Are you crying?” Delaney sounded incredulous.

“I’m not crying.” Jillian sniffled.

“I’ve never seen you cry. What’s wrong? How can I help?”

“Nothing, everything’s fine. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“If you hang up this phone, Jillian Samuels, I’m coming to Colorado to kick your butt.”

“You were totally wrong, Delaney. Tuck is not my Mr. Right.”

“Oh, Jilly, what happened?”

“I … we …”

“Yes?”

“There’s a blizzard here. We got snowed in together.”

“Ah, you slept together.”

“Well … yes. Then he freaked. Completely. Left the bed in the middle.”

“The middle of what?”

“Sex.”

“He left in the middle of sex?”

“He said he was thirsty. He went into the kitchen and never came back. I went looking for him. He’s asleep on the couch. This
is bad. This is very, very bad. Has Nick ever got up in the middle … ?”

“No,” Delaney said adamantly. “Never.”

“See? I told you. Tuck is not Mr. Right. Mr. Right would not get up in the middle.”

“Maybe he’s just scared.”

“Like I’m not? Now I’m scared and mad.”

“So how was it? Before he left in the middle.”

“It was great, fantastic, the best ever—that’s what’s so frustrating,” Jillian said, wanting desperately for Delaney to tell
her that Tuck absolutely was her destiny and that all she needed was to wait for him to realize they were meant to be.

Instead, Delaney said, “Well, maybe he isn’t the one.”

“I dreamed about him while wearing the veil.”

“Could just be a coincidence.”

“I dream about the guy and then I meet him in real life. That doesn’t seem like a coincidence. I mean, if anything is fated,
it would seem like that would be a clear sign.”

“So he is the one?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. If he is, he’s not cooperating. How did you know for certain Nick was the one? Wedding-veil thing
aside. What made you ditch Evan and everything you had planned for Nick?”

“He came after me to stop me from having myself kidnapped at the wedding. He wanted to be the one to kidnap me.”

“That is romantic.” Jillian sighed.

“You can’t compare Nick to your guy. Apples and oranges, Jilly. Tuck’s a widower. You have to cut him some extra slack.”

“I can’t compete with a dead woman, Laney, and I shouldn’t have to.”

“No, no, you’re right.”

“I’m going to tell him the sex was all a mistake,” Jillian said.

“Was it?”

“Well, he left in the middle, so obviously he thinks so. I’ll beat him to the punch. I’ll just tell him it was all a huge
mistake. I’ll blame the blizzard. I’ll blame the Baileys …”

In the background, Jillian could hear Nick’s low throaty voice whisper something sexy.

“It’s okay; it’s all right,” Jillian said, feeling dismally lonely.

“Jillian, no, this is important. Talk to me. I’m listening. I’m here for you,” Delaney reassured her.

“I know that, but just go make love to your husband and give him a hug for me for being the kind of guy who doesn’t run away
in the middle.”

Dumbass.

Tuck berated himself. He’d screwed up. Big-time.

He’d been snowed in a lake house mountain cabin for three days with an incredible woman who was his polar opposite in every
way. Thing was, he’d just had the best sex of his life, and he felt guilty as sin. He’d loved Aimee with every bit of his
heart, but making love to her had never been so … so …
all-consuming.
The way it was with Jillian.

And then he’d gotten up right in the middle of sex last night and just left her lying there. The sex was just too damn good.
Impossibly good. Unbelievably good. That’s what turned him inside out.

Jillian threw herself into lovemaking like it was a religion. She was fiercely devout. Dishing out wild, no-holds-barred sex
with a fervency that stole the breath right out of his lungs. And yet at the same time, she tasted as sweet as cotton candy
and as crisp as freshly laundered linen. An erotic combination of sultry-eyed temptress and honey-voiced waif. And the smell
of her was all over him. Understated but persistent. Uniquely Jillian.

His
Jillian.

Tuck groaned. No, no, he had to stop thinking like this. She wasn’t his Jillian. Could never be his Jillian.

Why not?
whispered a subversive part of him that wasn’t playing by the rules.
Why not?

He craved her. Ached for her. His body tensed and his mouth watered and he hungered to take her again and again and again.
Nothing had ever had hold of him like that.

The bedroom door creaked opened, and he heard her pad into the living room. He should pretend to be asleep again like he’d
done last night. It’s what a smart man would have done.

But when was the last time he’d done anything smart?

He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, and when her head popped over the top of the couch, their eyes met. Glued.

She said nothing and neither did Tuck, but he was acutely aware of her eyes on his.

A long, uncomfortable pause ensued. The only sound between them was Mutt’s doggy breathing as he slumbered on the floor in
front of the fireplace.

Finally, Jillian drew in a deep breath. God, even the way she swallowed looked sexy. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, fine. You?”

“Peachy.” She nodded.

She was lying and they both knew it. He’d heard her thrashing around all night, just as he’d been.

He swung his legs off the couch, sat up.

She sat down where his legs had just been. Her hair was mussed, and the sheet creases on her face shouldn’t have made her
look cute, but dammit, they did. She stared into the ashes of the spent fire, where a few coals smoldered, and dropped her
hands into her lap. She wore the blue silk pajamas she’d worn last night. Even with that rumpled-no-makeup-just-rolled-out-of-bed
thing she had going on, Jillian was stunning.

Her cheeks pinked under his scrutiny, and her eyelids lowered heavily. “About last night … ,” she started, then stopped.

“Yeah?”

“I understand completely why you did what you did.”

“You do?” That was amazing because Tuck didn’t know why he’d done what he’d done.

“It was a mistake.”

“Mistake,” he echoed.

“We both know that. We don’t want it to ruin our friendship, so let’s just pretend it never happened. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“That is what you want, right?”

“Yes, yes. If that’s what you want too.”

She nodded rapidly. “Oh yes, exactly. Big mistake.”

“Bad.”

“Terrible.”

“Worst ever.”

They looked at each other and both managed to summon up a weak laugh.

“Promise me it won’t ever happen again,” she said, “please.”

“I promise.”

“We won’t even speak of it.” She folded her arms across her chest and looked resolute.

“Speak of what?”

“There, that’s it. Perfect.”

Neither one of them said another word. Mutt raised his head and looked at them as if their quietness had awakened him.

Tuck didn’t rush to fill the silence, because he had no idea what to say or how to make things right. He didn’t even know
if he wanted to make things right. One thing he did know—he couldn’t stop visualizing her on his bed, in his arms, her body
lithe and supple and naked. Passionate and hungry and alive. And she’d looked at him as if he was the center of her universe;
that look had been his undoing. That’s what had scared the hell out of him.

Tuck was so damned confused. On the one hand, it was as if she’d been made to order. Rush delivery sex mate. Long, shapely
legs. Exotic eyes dark as Swiss chocolate. Raspberry-flavored mouth. Silky ebony hair. A devilish tongue that roused the caveman
inside him.

And a sweet, moist, tight feminine box that drove him mad with desire.

He wished like hell he hadn’t walked out on her in the middle of sex last night. He wished he could go back and fix it. Part
of him wanted to gather her in his arms, haul her back to bed, and start all over again. But another part of him—the cowardly
part that had run out on her in the first place—held him back.

“Jillian, I … ,” he started, but had no idea what else he was going to say.
She regrets it. Let it go. You told her you’d let it go, so let it frickin’ go.
He cleared his throat. “Jilly—”

“Shh!” She raised a hand.

“What is it?”

“Listen.”

Tuck cocked his head, listening. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. No wind.”

The blizzard was over.

I
T TOOK ALL MORNING
and part of the afternoon for Tuck and Jillian to dig out of the snow, but once they had a path cleared to the road, they
donned cross-country skis and took off.

Jillian glided off to Fielder’s Market with Mutt for groceries. Tuck headed for Evie’s house to corner his brother-in-law.
He desperately needed a guy’s perspective on this whole situation.

After he’d promised Jillian they wouldn’t talk about it again, Tuck thought of a hundred questions he wanted to ask. For instance,
had
any
of it been good for her? Because things had been pretty darned fantastic for him until he’d made like Foghorn Leghorn and
chickened out.

Maybe he shouldn’t have bailed. If he’d stayed in the bed with her last night, maybe he would have gotten her out of his system.
As it was, he was totally obsessed with her. Dammit. She was tougher than he was, putting all this behind them. Dusting her
hands of their lovemaking as if it never happened.

Grumbling under his breath, Tuck pushed himself faster with the ski poles, not even noticing how appealing the town looked
bunked under the snow. He hoped Ridley had beer in the house. He was in the mood to knock back a couple of brews. Never mind
that it was only three o’clock in the afternoon. He’d been snowed in with Jillian for three days, and he needed a release.