Heartless Rebel (18 page)

 
          
Cara
awoke to the sounds of the shower running. Pushing herself up in the plush bed,
she blinked and yawned—and then it hit her. Where she was. Who she was with.

 
          
What
she’d done.

 
          
Oh, God
.

 
          
Her
body was pleasurably languid, though she acknowledged the slight soreness
between her legs, as well. Her heart skipped a beat. They’d made love
endlessly, it seemed. Sleeping, waking to tangle themselves together on the crisp,
cool sheets, sleeping again, waking to make love once more.

 
          
She’d
never had a lover like Jack, a man who was so attuned to her body that he could
make her crave him with the slightest touch. It was so dangerous, this feeling
she had when she was with him. She could love him if she wasn’t careful.

 
          
Cara
sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

 
          
No
. She would not go there. She was a
grown woman, in control of her destiny and her body. She’d made love with
Jack—had
sex
with Jack, she corrected—because
she had needs and because he was mighty good at fulfilling them.

 
          
Women
could have sex for the sake of sex, too. She’d just done so. Over and over
again.

 
          
Cara
tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and told herself to stop blushing. She
could feel the heat in her skin, could feel the warmth creeping up her spine,
her neck, over her cheeks.

 
          
What
the hell was there to blush about?

 
          
She
whipped the covers back and stood, stretched. She went over to the huge walk-in
closet, where all her things had been hung up when they’d first arrived. A
full-length mirror sat at the back of the dressing area, and Cara jolted to a
stop. Who was that woman?

 
          
Her
naked body glowed. Her skin was luminous, her long hair a wild tangle down her
back. Her green eyes were slumberous. She looked tousled and satiated, as if
she’d been having sex for hours—which, she acknowledged, she had.

 
          
Her
breasts were full and firm, the deep pink nipples budded tight in anticipation
of her lover’s touch. There were red marks on her shoulder, her neck, even her
abdomen, where Jack’s stubble had abraded her tender skin.

 
          
The
marks on her abdomen stole her breath as she thought of how they’d gotten
there. He’d kissed and licked his way down her body, spread her legs open and
then taken her to heaven with his tongue.

 
          
Cara
bit her lip at the memory. If Jack came out of the bathroom and wanted to do
everything all over again, she’d jump at the chance.

 
          
Instead,
she found a robe and belted it around her body. Then she selected undergarments
and headed for the bath. Jack was standing at the mirror with a towel draped
low around his lean hips, razor in hand.

 
          
He
stopped when she walked in and turned to look at her. She didn’t know what to
say to him after last night. She felt awkward, out of place, and it angered
her. Because she hadn’t felt that way before they’d slept together. She’d known
she needed to keep her distance from him, but she hadn’t done it.

 
          
Jack
reached for her, pulled her against his damp, warm body. He smelled fresh and
clean from the shower as he dipped to kiss her.

 
          
She
opened her mouth beneath his, surprised with how much she still wanted him. She
could feel him hardening, his penis pressing insistently against her thigh. She
reached beneath the towel and took him in her hand. His velvety skin was hot.
She squeezed ever so lightly.

 
          
Jack
groaned. A moment later he was shoving the robe from her body, licking his way
to her nipples while she threw her head back and moaned.

 
          
“I
want you to see us, to see what you do to me,” he said roughly, turning her
until she faced the mirror. She was almost as tall as he was, but his body
dwarfed hers. He was all lean, tanned muscle—and he quite simply took her
breath away.

 
          
He
clasped her breasts, his fingers tweaking her nipples, pinching and pulling
them until she thought she would come apart simply from his touch. In the light
of the bathroom, his tanned skin looked so stark against her creamy complexion.
The contrast made her shiver.

 
          
“You’re
beautiful, Cara,” he said in her ear, his breath sending pleasurable vibrations
over her sensitive skin. “I want you again.”

 
          
“Yes,”
she breathed.

 
          
She
thought he would turn her to face him, would grab her hand and haul her back to
the bed. But he didn’t. Instead, he bent her over and gripped her hips.

 
          
Cara
gasped. It was so erotic, what he was about to do. So raw. She wasn’t a
stranger to varied love-making—and yet she didn’t think she could survive
something so private, so sensual, as watching this man make love to her in the
mirror.

 
          
But
she didn’t want to stop it. She wanted him again, desperately. She wanted to
see his face, wanted to see her own, even though it frightened her. What would
she see in her own eyes while he took her?

 
          
As
he slid inside her body, their eyes locked in the mirror. Cara gasped again
with the fullness of his possession—it was slightly different from this
angle—but she didn’t want him to stop. She gripped the edge of the counter as
he began to move. Their gazes remained tangled, as if it were a contest to see who
could last the longest without looking away.

 
          
It
was Jack who closed his eyes first. His head tilted back, and the look of sheer
ecstasy on his face made her heart squeeze tight in her chest.

 
          
A
moment later, his fingers found her clitoris and she could no longer
concentrate on watching him. She could only feel, could only see the bigger
picture of the two of them together, could only marvel at the sensations
streaking through her and the shameless way she enjoyed everything he did to
her.

 
          
They
didn’t last long. Cara shattered within moments and Jack followed immediately
after. She leaned on her elbows, breathing hard. It should have felt
impersonal, the way they’d just had sex, but nothing could be farther from the
truth. She felt as if their souls had twined, as if they’d seen a part of each
other that no one ever had before.

 
          
In
the next moment, she chided herself for being silly. Jack was highly sensual.
He’d made love to many women. She was just the flavor of the week.

 
          
He
disengaged from her body and she felt bereft with the loss of him. But then he
turned on the shower and led her under the spray.

 
          
They
didn’t come out for a very long time.

 
          
That
afternoon, they checked out of the hotel. Cara thought they would return to
Paris, but instead Jack took her to a grand apartment overlooking the Thames
and the London skyline. Like his Paris apartment, this one was furnished in
sleek, modern lines. Unlike the Paris apartment, this building was as modern as
the furnishings.

 
          
“Why
did we stay in the hotel last night when this is so close?” she asked as she
scanned the view. There were the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben … and so many
other things she couldn’t even identify.

 
          
Jack
turned from his perusal of a stack of mail. “It seemed like the thing to do at
the time.”

 
          
Cara
frowned as she watched him go through the mail. What had happened between them
had been amazing—too amazing, if she were honest with herself. Because now she
didn’t want to do what she needed to do: she didn’t want to ask him for the
money so she could get back to her own life.

 
          
“Is
there any word on my passport and bank card?” she asked.

 
          
He
looked up again. “I have someone working on it. But no, not yet.”

 
          
“You
realize I can’t go home until I have my passport back.” There, she’d said it.
She’d voiced her fear and given him a hint of what she intended. If he couldn’t
get her passport for her, she would go to the American embassy and apply for a
new one. She wasn’t worried about anyone using her bank card—they’d need her
PIN to do so—but if she didn’t get that back soon, she’d report it missing and
get a new one sent to her here in London.

 
          
He
tossed the mail aside and gave her a heated look that curled her toes. How did
he manage that when they’d made love only a few hours ago now?

 
          
“In
a hurry to leave me, Cara?”

 
          
“I’ve
completed my end of the bargain,” she said, her heart pumping hard and fast.

 
          
The
heat in his eyes banked. “You’ll get your money. And your passport as soon as I
have it.”

 
          
She
suddenly felt as if she’d made a mistake. She wanted to go to him, wanted to
put her arms around his waist and press her cheek to his chest. She wanted to
tell him she was sorry, that she wasn’t trying to rush away, but that she had
to do it for her own good.

 
          
Because
she cared about him. Too much. In so very short a time, Jack Wolfe had managed
to worm his way beneath her defenses and make her care.

 
          
But
she knew she couldn’t trust him. Couldn’t give him her heart. It never worked
out, that kind of blind trust. Her mother had had it with her father, and look
where it had gotten her. Brokenhearted and broke. Cara wouldn’t suffer the same
fate. Jack was gorgeous and amazing in bed, but that was the extent of it. She
wouldn’t
love him.

 
          
She
believed in happy ever after, but she knew that kind of love wasn’t one-sided.
It couldn’t be. And there was absolutely nothing about Jack that said he was in
danger of falling in love with her.

 
          
“This
isn’t going anywhere, Jack,” she said. “You and I both know it.”

 
          
He
looked so dark and furious. “We’ve spent one night together. It’s a little soon
to be thinking about the future, isn’t it?”

 
          
“Maybe
for you,” she said, stung. “But I have to find another job and get on with my
life. I can’t stay here as your—what? Paid companion?”

 
          
“That
part is over,” he said, his voice measured. “I paid you to go to the wedding.
You went. We’ve moved on now.”

 
          
“To
what?”

 
          
His
jaw flexed. “I have work to do,” he said. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my
office. It’s down the hall, on the left.”

 
          
“Is
this usually how you end your discussions?” she asked. “By walking away?”

 
          
He
turned back to her. “What discussion, Cara? You’ve said you want to leave. I’ve
said I’m working on it.”

 
          
“You
don’t let anyone in, do you?”

 
          
Surprise
flashed across his face. A moment later, he was as cool and unflappable as
always. “As I said, I’ll be in my office.”

 
          
Cara
stood with her arms wrapped around her middle as she watched him go. She was
furious, and yet there was nothing left to say, was there? Angry tears pressed
against the backs of her eyes.

 
          
She
refused to let them fall. Crying over a man was weakness, even if she was
crying in anger.