Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance) (31 page)

Of course you
should, you idiot
. She was a woman on the rebound, his complete opposite,
and he was taking advantage of her.

He broke the kiss. “Frankie,” he breathed heavily
against her cheek.

She nuzzled his ear, sending goose bumps across his shoulders.

“Jack…hold me.” She kissed him again with such
desperation.

He knew desperation. He’d felt it himself…whenever he
thought about Frankie.

Jack couldn’t give her his love because she didn’t
want it. He couldn’t give her the perfect life because he’d never measure up to
her idea of the perfect man. Hell, he couldn’t even promise her stability since
he didn’t know what life had planned for him next.

He had nothing to offer her.

Except this, right here, right now. She needed him to
hold her, touch her, and make her feel like the most desirable woman in the
world.

Which was exactly what she’d become in Jack’s eyes.

She moaned against his lips wanting them to part and
he surrendered to her assault, relaxing his entire body, letting her do
whatever she desired. He leaned back into the sofa cushions and parted his
lips, letting her in and savoring the crisp taste of peppermint. She cradled
his face in her hands, and he thought his heart would split in two.

Tenderness. For Jack. Not raw and crude sex as he’d
had in the past with a handful of women. No, this was different and amazing.

And probably the closest thing he’d ever get to love.

She suddenly sat back and looked into his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he rasped.

She blinked. “I’m scared.”

Relief coursed through him. She knew it, too. Frankie
knew they were starting down a path more intense, more meaningful than basic
lust.

“You’ve been with so many other women,” she said.
“You’re so experienced, and I’m…well, a naive numbers cruncher who doesn’t get
out much.”

His heart sank. That’s how she saw him, as some kind
of male gigolo who beds a woman in every town? He started to let her have it,
tell her that rumors are not necessarily based in truth.

Then he read the regret in her eyes, the insecurity.
They could never be together but he could make her come alive in his arms and
show her how special she was.

“You are the woman I want,” he said, trying to control
his own desperation.

Taking the lead he gently coaxed her mouth to his and
opened immediately, letting her taste his want, his desire. Tonight, he’d give
her what she needed most. He’d cherish her and pleasure her in ways she’d never
imagined. And when they were done touching, stroking, and loving, he’d step out
of the way and let her get on with her normal, safe life.

Only, he knew his life would never be the same.

She tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans
and slid her hands over his skin, her fingers tantalizing his flesh, making him
hard with need. He gripped her hips and pulled her close, wanting her to feel
the effect she had on his body.

“The bed,” she whispered against his lips. She pulled
him to his feet and he leaned on her as he hobbled across the room to the bed.

“I should be carrying you,” he said.

“You’ll make it up to me.”

He glanced into her eyes and was mesmerized, unable to
look away. Yes, he would make it up to her, even if it took all night.

Together they fell to the queen-sized bed, Frankie on
her back, searching Jack’s eyes. Trepidation filled the rainbow depths,
trepidation he’d wipe away with gentleness and promise.

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he whispered, reaching for
the top button of her cream-colored blouse. Her chest rose and fell with each
shallow breath, with each pop of a button through its hole. The fourth button
came free and he spied a delicate lace camisole against her skin. He wanted his
hand there, touching her, soaking in her warmth.

He trailed his fingers lower and spread the fabric of
her blouse aside, taking in the beauty lying before him. The camisole enhanced
her femininity, making him want to see more, feel more. He skimmed his fingers
across her breast and her nipple peaked beneath his palm.

“Is this real?” she whispered, her eyes lit with
desire.

“Does it feel real?”

His hand drifted lower, past her ribs, past her waist.
He would do it right their first time, slowly, with painstaking tenderness.

“It feels…amazing,” she whispered as he unzipped her
slacks and slid his hand lower.

He stroked the sweet spot between her legs and she
arched against him, a whimper escaping her lips. Reaching down, she helped him
peel off her pants.

“Jack,” she breathed, letting him touch her, pleasure
her.

She sat up and pushed him back against the bed. With
trembling hands she peeled the T-shirt up and over his head, then hesitated. He
wondered if she’d changed her mind.

“God, this body.” Her eyes widened with appreciation
as she ran her hands across his chest. Her thumbs grazed his nipples and edged
down to unbuckle his belt and strip him of the tight jeans and boxers.

She slowly straddled him, opening to him, while her
hands caressed his chest. And all he could do was lie there, humbled by her
need, willing to give whatever she wanted.

She rocked forward and back. Each time with a little
more intensity, as if she wanted something so bad she would burst into tears if
she didn’t get it.

He knew that kind of wanting and knew how to give her
what she needed most. With his left hand steadying her curved bottom, he
reached forward with his right and grazed the inside of her thigh. He edged his
hand down and found the soft, the tender spot, and massaged it gently. He
watched her gasp for breath as she struggled to retain control.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” he whispered with another
stroke. He could tell she fought it, he knew she would. Frankie wasn’t one to
give up control.

She bucked forward again, squeezing his chest,
claiming him for herself. Need coiled inside him. Incredible desire that had
turned into love, something he never thought he’d feel.

The motion, the heat, and the sweet moans of a
passionate woman as she teetered on the brink of climax did him in. She cried
out and arched one last time, just as his body released its love inside her.

She collapsed against him, her soft, round breasts
warming his chest, one leg wedged between his thighs. Only minutes later did
her leg move, brushing against him in a way that awakened his need yet again.

Would he ever get enough of Frankie McGee? Would he
ever satisfy his hunger for the one woman he could never have?

She was drunk. Not on liquor or wine or any kind of
fancy cocktail.

Frankie was drunk on Black Jack Hudson. How many times
had they made love? She’d lost count. Somewhere around three this morning
they’d both passed out from exhaustion. She had no clue what time it was. She
didn’t care.

All she cared about was Jack’s arm wrapped around her
from behind, their bodies touching from his lips against her hair to their
entwined ankles.

This was real, the warmth, the contentment. He’d been
there for her, held her, made a kind of magic she’d never felt before. She’d
been shocked by the new sensations at first. Then she welcomed them, losing
herself in the beauty of complete and utter surrender. It only made sense that
she’d experience this with Jack, an uninhibited man who shared himself freely,
without reservation.

But it hadn’t always been that way. He’d changed
during the course of their relationship. Then again, so had she.

He stirred and nuzzled her neck. She clutched his hand
between her breasts. She couldn’t let go, not yet. Once she did she didn’t know
what would happen.

Sure she did. Reality would slap her upside the head.
She’d have to admit that Jack made love to her out of some kind of obligation
or even pity. She hated the thought, yet she hadn’t cared about his motivations
last night. All she knew was she needed him inside her, for as long as
possible.

And he’d satisfied that need all right.

Opening her eyes, she stared across the room at the
basket of silk flowers on the dining table. Fake flowers, not real ones,
similar to the relationship she had with the man laying beside her: fake and
temporary. It wasn’t as if they could be more than bedmates or wrestling
partners. Could they?

With a breathless moan, he wrapped his arms tighter
around her. She adjusted his hand to her breast and he automatically grazed her
nipple with his thumb. His hardness pressed against her from behind.

“God, woman,” he rasped. “You’re going to kill me.”

She loved that sound, his voice thick with need. The
power she had over him thrilled her. But thrills were cheap and fleeting. They
didn’t last forever, nor did they make for a solid future.

Solid, dependable, and enduring. That’s the kind of
relationship she’d dreamed of since childhood. The exact opposite of her mom
and dad’s marriage.

Jack continued to brush his hand across her breast and
her body came alive. One touch, one stroke and she fell apart. It might not be
a stable relationship but it definitely had its perks, perks that would
disappear the minute they rolled out of bed.

“Francine?” he whispered against her hair.

“Hmmm?” Her eyes watered. She didn’t want to admit she
was already missing him.
 
Or was it
was guilt that tangled her stomach in knots? Last night she had nearly accepted
another man’s marriage proposal, yet here she was in bed with Jack.

Guilt? More like confusion. She’d never been more
confused in her life.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“And when did you have time to do that?” she teased.
At least she’d enjoy their last moments together with a smile.

“I’ll admit, you kept me pretty busy last night.”

He brushed her hair away from her ear and kissed the
rim. She shuddered.

“We make quite a team out of the ring, don’t we?” he
said.

She rolled onto her back and gazed into his eyes.
Beautiful green eyes shining with desire, flashing with mirth.

“You…” She touched his stubbled jaw with her
fingertips. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

“How about making love to me, again?” His cheeks
dimpled with a mischievous grin.

“Don’t you have someplace to be today, Black Jack
Hudson?”

“Not today, or tomorrow, or the next day.” He leaned
closer, until their lips nearly touched. “I made a deal with my boss.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep, only she doesn’t know it yet.”

A knock at the door interrupted their near kiss.

“Frankie? Are you there?” Bradley’s voice called.

Panic flooded her body.

“Oh, my God!” She sprang from the bed, groping for her
clothes. “Quick, pick up, hide, do something.”

Jack stared at her.

“Don’t just lie there!” she whispered, scooping
clothes off the floor and tossing them in the corner.

“Sweetums? You okay in there?”

“In a minute, Nipper!” she called back.

“Nipper?” Jack raised a brow.

“Help me! Come on, pick up your clothes, get dressed,
get out of here.”

“And where would you have me go? He’s blocking the
only exit.”

“The balcony, there’s a balcony. I’ll keep him in the
front room, but just in case, stay out there.”

Grabbing his arm, she pulled and he grunted. He
finally tumbled out of bed, his manhood ready for action. Her body
automatically reacted with a tingling sensation between her legs.

“Don’t ruin my life. Please don’t ruin my life,” she
said, coaxing him to the balcony.

He froze and wrenched his arm from her. “Don’t ruin
your life?”

The fire in his eyes burned straight to her heart. She
read pain in his eyes, tempered with anger.
 

“I meant—”

“Forget it. I need clothes.” He ripped his gaze from
her and scanned the floor.

Shoving his shirt at him, she slid open the balcony
door. “You’ll stay…here?”

“No, I’m going to wing it to Aruba,” he said, planting
his hands on his naked hips.

With a nervous giggle she slammed the door and whipped
the sheers closed. There. Everything would be fine. Her life was fine, nothing
to worry about.

She glanced at the balcony, regret tearing her apart
inside for hurting Jack’s feelings. That was the last thing she wanted to do,
but the comment slipped out. Call it panic or fear or just plain stupidity.

Call it survival. She wasn’t ready to give up her
dream of a perfect life with a stable, responsible man like Bradley.

As she passed the bed on her way to the living room,
guilt flushed her cheeks. What had she done?

“Francine?” Bradley knocked louder.

“Coming!” She tugged on the sheets, straightening them
a bit, but not too much. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t get past the living
room. She’d make sure of that.

Taking a deep breath, she marched toward the door,
catching her reflection in the mirror above the dresser.

“Ah!” she cried at the naked woman staring back at
her. Frankie answering the door in her birthday suit would scare Bradley
witless. They might have shared a bed, but they never really looked at each
other’s complete nakedness.

She snatched her robe from the closet and hurried to
the door, tying the garment firmly in place. Running her hands through her
hair, she took a deep breath and flung the door wide.

“Bradley? What are you doing here? I thought you had a
plane to catch.”

“I rescheduled the flight for later this morning.” He
paused as he crossed the threshold. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever done
that before.”

He gave her the obligatory kiss on the cheek. Well,
that was a good sign. He ambled past her to the breakfast bar.

“No coffee yet?” he asked.