Deadly Valentine (21 page)

"I feel like this thing with Asa has hijacked my life," he said when he broke the kiss. "I need a break from it."

“Do you want to be alone?”

“No.” he tugged her hand up to his lips, kissed her knuckles. “You're the only light in my life right now.”

Tess tried to hold back a snort, but wasn't successful. He gave her a questioning look. “Are you going to quote music lyrics to me?” she asked.

He smiled, and for the first time in what seemed like a long time, it reached all the way to his eyes, to his dimple. “Will it help my chances?”

“Chocolate is better.”

“How about if I quote one of those sexy songs on your iPod?”

Tess felt the blush heat her cheeks.

“A little sexual healing?” he asked

“I don't have that song,” she said. “I like Marvin's older stuff better.”

“Oh right. Tell me, does 'She sure loves to ball' mean what I think it does?”

“What do you think it means?”

Jack leaned closer. “Can I show you?”

God she wanted him to. And what sane woman would turn down Jack Valentine? But at the back of her mind, she still puzzled over why he all of a sudden was so interested in her when he hadn't been before. Even when she'd given him the opportunity.

“Why me?” she asked.

 “Why you what?”

“We don't go together. We don't fit.”

“We don't know that. Yet,” he said with a waggle of his brow.

“Not like that! Look at us Jack. You're about a foot taller than me and an Adonis and I'm just-"

He pressed a finger to her lips. "You're smart and beautiful and sexy and I want you. I always have."

Tess wasn't convinced.

"Should I remind you that I'm not the only one who wants you? Deputy Dan would love for me to go to jail so he can have you."

“You had your chance.”

“I knew it. I knew this was about the night -”

“I don't want to go into it.” She tried to rise, but he grabbed her by the waist pulling her into his lap.

“You brought it up. It's time we had it out.”

“Jack, don't.”

“Why?”

“Because... because I was humiliated.”

His eyes widened. “Humiliated? Tess I would never ... what I did was to avoid that.”

“It's not your fault. I was the one who threw myself at you. I thought maybe all that flirting ..., but I was wrong. You can't sit here and tell me differently.”

He gave her a light shake. “I did want you. I hurt with wanting you -”

“Jack-”

“Here me out!” He drew in a breath. “Turning you down that night was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. And I nearly gave in, except I wanted.. no, I needed you to want me.”

“Usually when a woman throws herself at you it means she wants you.” She tried again to disentangle herself from him, but he only tightened his grip.

“You wanted someone, but it wasn't about me. An hour before you showed up at my place you were still engaged to another man. You were angry and wanted to get back at him for cheating. Or maybe you wanted to bury the pain or feel needed, I don't know. All I know is that it wasn't about me. Your feelings for me didn't match my feelings for you. As much as I wanted you, I wanted that more.”

He was right, Tess thought.  She'd gone to Jack because she knew him, trusted him, and needed someone to tell her she wasn't a loser. She wanted him to take away the pain and humiliation of having been a fool to be engaged to a man who not only cheated, but who preferred men. And in the end, she'd only made it worse for herself. And Jack had made it worse by being honorable.

“I didn't want to wake up the next morning to face your regret," he continued. "To have you leave or be embarrassed. In the end you left anyway. I tried to contact you, but you just cut me off. Sometimes I think I should have given in. Maybe we'd still be together. Or maybe you would have left. But then I would have known.”

“Known what?”

His eyes were penetrating, right to her core. “What it was like to love you.”

Tess' mouth felt like sandpaper. The way he could look at her, talk to her and make her go all hot and liquid inside.

He leaned closer. “I'm determined to know this time, Tess.” His words were somewhere between a promise and threat. “Maybe not tonight, but some day.”

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. Every nerve in her body was firing. She finally believed in the possibility of spontaneous combustion.

He continued to watch her as his lips moved millimeter by millimeter closer to hers. “Although tonight seems like a good time,” he said against her lips.

At the moment it seemed like a good time to her too. This time there was nothing gentle or soothing about the kiss. She gave herself over to it, threading her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, closer. He pushed her back on the couch, moving himself over her. A low growl rumbled in his throat when his body fit against hers. His hand slid under her sweater, light feathery touches that sent ripples of pleasure through her body. Somehow she managed to get the sweater off and his hands rewarded her with their caress,

Her own hands worked on his shirt, fumbling from button to button. She pushed it aside, splaying her hands on him, over him, feeling the vibration in his chest when he groaned at her touch. “It's so hard,” she murmured her fingers sliding through the hair on his chest.

“It's not the only thing.” His hand found hers, guided her to him.

As quick as the passion had sprung, the panic swept through her at the feel of his need. She pushed and flailed to get free of him. He jerked back and she took advantage by rolling out from under him, tumbling onto the floor.

"Tess?" He reached to help her, but she drew away.

"I'm alright," she said breathlessly as she righted herself and stood. She picked up her sweater, quickly covering herself as if that would erase what he'd already seen.

"Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head and turned away as embarrassment and shame spread.

"What is it?"

How could she explain? How could she tell him that his clever hands and lips, the words that drew her in, only served to highlight her inexperience. She was no prude, but neither could she compete with the likes of Ava Dumont and other long legged women he'd been with before.

“I'm sorry. I don't think I can do this.” She expected to see anger or at least irritation, but his face showed worry.

“I'm sorry," he said, watching her from his seat on the couch.

“No. I ... it's not that I don't want to...”

He waited for her to continue, to give him an explanation, but how could she confess her insecurities?

“Is this still about what happened before?” he asked.

“No. It's more about my still not understanding why you want me. You can have any woman you want.” She chanced a look at him, but then turned away, embarrassed by her foolishness.

“That's not exactly true.” He went to her then, taking her loosely in his arms. “There's only one woman I want, and that doesn't seem to be going very well. And when I say want, I don't just mean in a sexual sense, although that would be nice.”

“What if it wasn't?”

His brows drew together. “What?”

“What if it wasn't nice?”

“I don't understand.”

She sighed. “What if I'm not that good?”

She saw him bite his lip to keep from laughing. “Don't you laugh at me!”

“I'm not,” he said as a snicker slipped out. “I'm not. I just... how could you not be good? Don't you see what you do to me?”

“Brad didn't seem to think I was any good. God I drove him to another man!” She tugged away from, not able to look him in the eyes.

"That's crazy. It's as crazy as my thinking that being related to the Worthingtons changes who I am," he said. "Brad was gay before he met you. He's always been gay. It was no reflection on you as a woman."

She knew he was right, but the feelings of inadequacy stayed with her. If she'd been more feminine or sexy it would have been different, which she knew wasn't true and yet it was still there.

"It's to your credit that he was willing to try to act straight. Not that he should have because no one should have to deny who and what they are. But he cared for you enough that he thought he could pull it off. He wanted to try and pull it off."

"Just for his parents' money. Not for me."

Jack studied her for a moment. "He once told me that if you were a man, you'd have been perfect for him. The only thing wrong with you was that you had breasts."

Tess let out a small laugh.

"I, on the other hand, love that you have breasts." She allowed him to turn her and take her into his arms. “And as far as your being any good, just holding you, kissing you is far better than I'd ever imagined...and I have a pretty good imagination.”

“If that's true I will fall short.”

“I won't let you. Who knows, maybe I'm the one who's no good. Or maybe, we'll discover that we're both pretty good.”

He kissed her cheek, letting his lips trail down to her jaw, her neck. "We won't know until we try."

His breath whispered, teased at the nape of her neck. The fire that had been anger and humiliation changed, melted into liquid heat surging through her veins, creating a need, an ache that nearly dropped her to her knees. What would it hurt to give in, she wondered as his lips and hands coaxed her out of her resistance. Every woman should have at least one night in her life in which she was ravished by a nearly perfect man, right?

Once again her sweater was gone without her really knowing how. It was hopeless to fight and well, she didn't want to. What she wanted was to let go of her inhibition and enjoy what he could give her. Maybe if she gave in this once, just got it over with, she could let herself go. Live a little. Maybe even love a little, like she used to.

“Okay, okay,” she said letting her hands find his chest again, savoring its heat and strength. “You win.”

He took her hands, stilled them in his own. “You need to be sure, Tess”

Annoyed that he stopped, that he could stop, she said, “I said okay. Let's get this over with.”

His eyes darkened as they dropped her hands. “Is that how you feel?  It's a chore to get out of the way?”

“What? No.” There was a new kind of panic now. A panic that he'd change his mind. That he'd reject her after all.

She reached for him, but he took a step back, shook his head. “You sure know how to kill a mood, Tess.”

"Wait. I thought you wanted me?"

"More than anything. Christ I ache with it. But not like this. You have to want it, really want it too." He didn't wait for her response. Instead he turned, strode out of the room and up the hall to her bathroom.

Chapter Twenty-Five

She stood, stunned as Jack walked away from her. How could he kiss and touch her like that, for the purpose of getting her hot and bothered, and then just turn it off when the wrong thing came out of her mouth? She shook her head as she tried to understand what happened. She knew she said the wrong thing, but it wasn't what she meant. Being with him could never be a chore.

She heard the wood in the fire as it broke apart, the flames dying away. It was a metaphor for the moment, she decided. But she knew if she poked at the logs she could rekindle the fire. Could she do the same for the spark that was dying between her and Jack? Could she fan the flames?

If she intended to try, she needed a plan. She was no prude, but neither was she an experienced seductress. If she had time, she would have called Kate for a crash course in seducing a man. Instead she'd have to find her inner-feminine wiles on her own.

To start with, she needed to change. The La Perla lingerie she acquired earlier in the day would be a good start. Going to her bedroom she stripped off the rest of her clothes and pulled the lacy black and red undergarments from the top drawer of her dresser. She slipped them on quickly and checked herself in the mirror. Remembering what he said at the ice cream shop, she pulled the pins from her hair and shook out the curls. It improved the wanton look, but did nothing to give her the long-legged lingerie model look.

Acting on an idea, she went to her closet. Looking up on the shelf, she realized the box was too high. Grabbing an empty clothes hanger, she reached up and was just able to slip the end under the box's lid. She pulled and the red stilettos tumbled along with the box that had held them for three years since she'd last worn them. She tugged them on, wincing as they pinched her toes. Hopefully she wouldn't be wearing them for long.

Testing a few poses she hoped looked sexy, she took a deep breath and headed to the bathroom.

“Are you decent?” she asked through the slightly ajar door.

“You're joking right?” His voice was tight.

She pushed the door open to find him standing over the sink, a hand resting on each side of the basin, his head hanging. Drops of water clung to his face. A version of the cold shower she suspected.

“I can help you with that.” Had she pulled off sounding sultry?

“You've done enough already," he grumbled.

“Jack.” She tried to coo.

“Give me a damn minute!”

Normally, the outburst would have deflated her confidence, but for some reason in this case it annoyed her. “For goodness sake, don't be a martyr. I can help you with that. I want to help you with that.”

He turned his head. His eyes flashed then narrowed as they took a long slide over her bra, lacy underwear, and red heels. Slowly they made their way back up to her face.

“You’re the devil you know that?” He grabbed her arms and yanked her hard against his body. He brought his mouth within an inch of hers. “I’m going to torture you. Just like you torture me.” He lightly bit her bottom lip, tugged on it as he eased her into the bedroom.

“I haven’t tortured you-”

“Think again.” He slid his hand over her backside and pulled her to him so she could feel just how tortured he was. “I’m going to take you up and up and then I’ll back off and let you hang, in agony.”

“Won't that leave you hanging too?” She tried to sound unfazed by his promise, but her voice sounded breathless even to her. The tension radiating from his body reverberated through her own. She wrapped her arms around him and clung, savoring the energy, the excitement.