Bare Nerve (20 page)

Jack lifted her into his arms when the elevator stopped on his floor. He had the apartment door open in no time flat, slammed it closed behind them, and set her on her feet, backing her up against the wall as he pushed her coat to the floor and pulled her sweater over her head.

He unfastened her bra and shoved it down her arms. He palmed her breasts in both hands, his mouth sliding along her neck and biting her lightly at the base. She shivered, undulating against him. She grabbed his shoulders and encountered his heavy topcoat. She pushed at the fabric, finally forcing it off his shoulders. His hands left her breasts for a minute, and he tossed his coat aside and then ripped off his shirt.

She caressed the rippling muscles of his chest, tugging on the light patch of hair and scraping her fingernail over his flat nipples. He groaned her name and lifted her under her arms.

“Open your legs.”

She did, and he forced himself between them. His mouth fastened on one of her nipples, suckling her. She tilted her head back. His hands slid between their bodies, unfastening her pants and then slipping between her skin and her clothing. Delving deeply into the moist center of her body.

Jack set her on her feet and pushed her pants to the floor. They caught on her shoes until she kicked free of both the loafers and the pants. Jack unfastened his own pants and freed his erection. He lifted Anna again, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He turned to rest his shoulders against the wall. She pulled his head to hers and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth as he entered her body.

She moved on him, setting a rhythm that took them both rapidly toward their climaxes. Jack’s hands again roamed over her back, and she tightened and moved faster on him. He gripped her buttocks and held her still. Then he thrust up into her once, twice, and finally a third time, pushing her over the edge. She held tightly to him as she cried his name. He turned, and Anna was trapped between his driving body and the wall. He thrust into her one more time before his shout of completion echoed in the quiet apartment.

“Am I really yours?” she asked.

“Yes. You are. I love you, Anna Sterling. I know I’m not the guy you might have wanted to spend your life with, but—”

“Jack, you are exactly the kind of man I want to spend my life with. I love you, too.”

He held her close and made love to her again. And Anna knew sometime in the middle of the night that she had found the man she’d always secretly been searching for. A man who would keep her safe but also let her have a life filled with excitement.

If you liked this story, pick up
INSTANT ATTRACTION,
by Jill Shalvis….

“W
hy are you in my bed?” he asked warily, as if maybehe’d put her there but couldn’t quite remember.

He had a black duffel bag slung over a shoulder. Light brown hair stuck out from the edges of his knit ski cap to curl around his neck. Sharp green eyes were leveled on hers, steady and calm but irritated as he opened his denim jacket.

If he was an ax murderer, he was quite possibly the most attractive one she’d ever seen, which didn’t do a thing for her frustration level. She’d been finally sleeping.

Sleeping!

He could have no idea what a welcome miracle that had been, dammit.

“Earth to Goldilocks.” He waved a gloved hand until she dragged her gaze back up to his face. “Yeah, hi. My bed. Want to tell me why you’re in it?”

“I’ve been sleeping here for a week.” Granted, she’d had a hard time of it lately, but she definitely would have noticed
him
in bed with her.

“Who told you to sleep here?”

“My boss, Stone Wilder. Well, technically, Annie the chef, but—” She broke off when he reached toward her, clutching the comforter to her chin as if the down feathers could protect her, really wishing for that handy-dandy bat.

But instead of killing her, he hit the switch to the lamp on the nightstand and more fully illuminated the room as he dropped his duffel bag.

While Katie tried to slow her heart rate, he pulled off his jacket and gloves, and tossed them territorially to the chest at the foot of the bed.

His clothes seemed normal enough. Beneath the jacket he wore a fleece-lined sweatshirt opened over a long-sleeved brown Henley, half untucked over faded Levi’s. The jeans were loose and low on his hips, baggy over unlaced Sorels, the entire ensemble revealing that he was in prime condition.

“My name is Katie Kramer,” she told him, hoping he’d return the favor. “Wilder Adventures’s new office temp.” She paused, but he didn’t even attempt to fill the awkward silence. “So that leaves you…”

“What happened to Riley?”

“Who?”

“The current office manager.”

“I think she’s on maternity leave.”

“That must be news to his wife.”

She met his cool gaze. “Okay, obviously I’m new. I don’t know all the details since I’ve only been here a week.”

“Here, being my cabin, of course.”

“Stone told me that the person who used to live here had left.”

“Ah.” His eyes were the deepest, most solid green she’d ever seen as they regarded her. “I did leave. I also just came back.”

She winced, clutching the covers a little tighter to her chest. “So this cabin…Does it belong to an ax murderer?”

That tugged a rusty-sounding laugh from him. “Haven’t sunk that low. Yet.” Pulling off his cap, he shoved his fingers through his hair. With those sleepy-lidded eyes, disheveled hair, and at least two days’ growth on his jaw, he looked big and bad and edgy—and quite disturbingly sexy with it. “I need sleep.” He dropped his long, tough self to the chair by the bed, as if so weary he could no longer stand. He set first one and then the other booted foot on the mattress, grimacing as if he were hurting, though she didn’t see any reason for that on his body as he settled back, lightly linking his hands together low on his flat abs. Then he let out a long, shuddering sigh.

She stared at more than six feet of raw power and testosterone in disbelief. “You still haven’t said who you are.”

“Too Exhausted To Go Away.”

She did some more staring at him. Staring and glaring, but he didn’t appear to care. “Hello?” she said after a full moment of stunned silence. “You can’t just—”

“Can. And am.” And with that, he closed his eyes. “Night, Goldilocks.”

And don’t miss Diane Whiteside’s latest,
KISSES LIKE A DEVIL,
available now from Brava….

A
single man stepped out of the station, isolated by a swirl of travelers. He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad entirely in black. His broad-brimmed hat readily identified him as an American, a rarity here in Eisengau despite its famous summer music festival and military maneuvers. His clothes were well made yet neither dandified nor a uniform. Straight black hair brushed his collar, and his skin was tanned golden brown from the sun, something seldom seen amid these stone walls. His blade-sharp nose, high cheekbones, and stubborn jaw could have been carved by a master sculptor.

He paused on the top of the steps to look around, graceful as a hawk scanning a meadow, yet utterly un-self-conscious. His brilliant blue eyes flashed over the crowd like light passing through the finest stained glass—and lingered briefly on the old pension, where Meredith stood.

Her breath caught in her throat. How many newspaper articles about American adventurers had she devoured? How many cheap novels about men like him had she bartered for? And to finally see one in the flesh…

Morro thrust his muzzle between the banisters and took a long, considering sniff.

Despite any claim to logic, Meredith opened her mouth to hail the American.

A British officer, shorter, stockier, and using a cane, rushed up to him. The healthier man slapped him warmly on the shoulder, his face lighting up in welcome—and broke the thread holding her attention.

She closed her eyes for a moment and jerked herself back to the relentless present.

Keep an eye out for
THE EDUCATION OF MADELINE,
Beth Williamson’s Brava debut,
coming next month!

S
he made excuses to herself to visit him during the day when she was home. The hours at the bank gave her time to cool herself off, but then there were the times she was home and temptation was within reach. Each time, no matter if he wore his shirt or not, her heart and her body reacted as one. Reaching for him, wanting him. Needing to know what it felt like to touch him. What it felt like for him to touch her. Her experience was limited to simple kissing and hugging, but she could imagine quite a bit more. Especially with the help of the medical texts she’d read. Although none of them quite explained the exact details of fornication, she was fairly certain she had figured it out.

Now she couldn’t wait to try it. If only she hadn’t agreed to give Teague a week to decide. A week was too long. Far too long. She should have given him one day. No more. She had to find some way to distract herself from
thinking
about bedding him. An idea struck her.

Do you play any games, Teague?” Maddie asked as they left the dining room after supper.

He didn’t answer, so she turned to look at him. A mischievous grin played around those beautiful lips, and one eyebrow arched over humor-filled eyes. “What kind of games?”

Madeline felt a bit flustered and she hoped it didn’t reflect in her cheeks. She didn’t want him to know that her self-control was melting like an icicle in July.

“Checkers, chess, backgammon. Those kinds of games.”

When his grin turned into a full-blown smile, Madeline gripped the doorjamb to stay upright. She thought she was prepared. She was so very wrong. That smile was devastating. It lit up his whole face, made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and turned her into a puddle of unrequited passion.

“No, but I play a mean game of poker. Do you play?”

Madeline shook her head disappointed. That canceled her distraction idea.

“Would you like to learn?”

She felt an urge to blurt, “No!” but grabbed it before it could be let loose. The proper lady wasn’t going to make the decisions this time. Proper ladies may not play poker, but Maddie Brewster was going to learn.

After searching for thirty minutes, they found a deck of cards in her father’s old desk. Teague suggested they play in the kitchen since it was in the back of the house and relatively private.

When they settled at the table, the lamplight threw a cozy glow over the room. Madeline watched Teague’s hands, fascinated by how quickly he shuffled the cards. His fingers were lithe and strong at the same time. She wondered how those fingers would feel on her skin, making her temperature rise degree by degree.

Teague explained a game called five-card stud. The rules were a bit complex, but Madeline understood most of them. He let her play a couple of practice hands, and then they started to play in earnest.

Madeline lost five hands in a row before she started to really enjoy playing the game. She won the next hand. Teague actually looked surprised. “Very good, Maddie. You’re getting the hang of it.”

Madeline smiled. “I think I understand why gamblers like to play this so much. Can we gamble too?”

Teague threw back his head and laughed. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh, and the rough, raspy sound of it did something strange to her equilibrium. “Don’t you think gambling is the root of all evil?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve seen the root of evil, and it’s definitely not poker.”

He looked like he wanted to respond, but he didn’t. He shrugged. “I don’t have money to play for.”

Madeline watched his hands as he shuffled the cards again.

“How about we play for truths?” he said without looking up.

“Truths?”

“Yes, each time one of us wins a hand, we get to ask the other a question, and the loser must tell the truth.”

His hands shuffled faster. By the time the cards started flying off the deck, his fingers were a blur of motion. In a few seconds, five cards lay in front of her.

“I’ll play for truths. There isn’t much I’ve got to hide, anyway.”

Madeline lost the first truth hand.

“Are you ready for the first question?” he asked with a small grin.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Why did you paint your house blue?”

It was her turn to laugh. “I thought you were going to ask me what color my bloomers are.”

His eyebrows rose. “Now you’ve spoiled it. That was my next question.”

“I painted it blue because it is my favorite color, and I wasn’t allowed to wear anything that bright. After my father died, I indulged myself.”

He nodded. “That answers why it’s so damn bright.”

She laughed and waved her hands at the cards. “Deal again, Teague. I’m itching to ask you a truth question.”

This time, Madeline won. She pondered her question for several minutes, earning a sigh and rolling eyes from the sore loser.

“Why didn’t you say yes to my proposition to bed me?”

He clearly hadn’t been expecting a personal question like that. The cards he’d been shuffling fell out of his hand like an explosion, raining down all over the table and floor. “I had to stop myself from saying yes too quickly.”

Heat pooled low and insistent in her belly, and a throbbing began between her legs. “Does this mean you’re saying yes to my…proposal?” she asked. Her mouth felt as dry as cotton. “I mean, it sounds as if you’re going to say yes.”

He stood abruptly, and she could see the outline of his penis clearly in his pants. My, oh my! That certainly was a large-looking organ. Much larger than the ones in the drawings in the book.

Teague let the rest of the cards fall from his hands and he came around the side of the table. The primal way he walked was enough to make her nipples pucker. He clearly wanted her.
Her.
Madeline Brewster!

When he reached her side, he knelt down on the floor next to her and cupped her face in his big hands. “Why me?”

She shrugged, somehow. “I need a big man. “I’m not…petite or feminine like most women. I didn’t want my teacher to feel embarrassed by the size difference if I was bigger. You…you’re bigger than me. And…”

“And?”

“Just looking at you makes my body hum.”

His pupils widened, and he licked his lips.

He’s going to kiss me!

Madeline closed her eyes. She expected his lips on hers. What she didn’t expect was feather-light kisses along her brow, down her nose, across her cheekbones, to her chin. Small, jittery kisses that made her ache that much more. “Hurry up and kiss me,” she demanded.

He chuckled against the corner of her mouth. “If you want me to be your teacher, you’re going to have to be the student. Can you hand over the reins, Maddie girl?”

Madeline thought long and hard about that question. It wasn’t a matter of being under his thumb like her father. It was trusting that he would teach her what she wanted to know without doubting or interfering in his methods. “Yes,” she breathed.

She felt him smile. “Good. Now just close your eyes and feel. This is lesson number one.”

“Wait! Does this mean yes?”