Honey Moon (16 page)

His hand on her chest felt the jump in Jenna’s heartbeat and it angered him immensely. “Damn him, beating the fuckin’ odds. He’s the guy you texted to meet you in that bar before me. Did he hurt you?”
I’ll kill him.

She blinked, flinching from his glare. “No.”

“Look at me. Did he force you?”

She raised and held her gaze on his. “I can take care of myself. Forget him.”

Not likely. The guy had at least tried. Probably did more than try before she’d outsmarted the prick. Not right an asshole survived while Kurt’s wife hadn’t. Should he yell at the unfair universe until Jenna promised to at least press charges?

Or should he forestall the righteous indignation until later? Seize this carefully arranged moment and keep blood galloping south instead of being diverted to harden his fingers into fists. He sucked in a deep breath.
Damn. Hurt.
His ribs ached…and suddenly they didn’t.

Insane that he hadn’t noticed before, but whiffs of cinnamon, almond and something subtly arousing had his cock in a tizzy, rearing up to take center stage. The woman beside him—in a bed for the first time with him—smelled wildly invigorating. Whatever vigilante crap he’d been thinking took a sharp right turn toward the land of Not-now-imbecile. Later, he’d contemplate how easily thoughts of violence came to him, a hardened brute who’d smacked a bottle against a man’s head. The operative word, in these dwindling stolen minutes, being hard. He unclenched his fists and soothed his fingers along Jenna’s arm as he concentrated on her whisper.

“You’re the most famous man alive. The Love Center is on its knees denying everything, but unable to hide all those shuttles primed with poisoned gas. Governments will fall. The United World—sold on everyone living on peaceful planets, striving for utopia—is grieving and furious.” Color rose in Jenna’s cheeks and she faltered. “I need to apologize. I’m the one who may have gotten to you in this mess.”

“In bed with you is a mess?”
Tick tock.
He slipped his hand to her lower back.
Hot to trot.
“I beg to differ.”
Cock wants out. Now!

Her blush deepened. “I’ve…um followed you for years. You know me. I comment as JJ. My name is Jenna Jensen.”

His hand stilled. Every inch of him began cheering and praying his ears heard right.
Oh dear God, could life get more perfect?
“You’re JJ? Fantastic. I think I love you.” He knew he did. “I lived for your replies. Tagged them so comments go directly to my inbox. Been the highlight after posting for a decade, reading your thoughts and a few others’ while ignoring the fluff. You know, want to send pictures, marry, have my children, skin me alive and so on.”

She remained silent, her lower lip trembling.

“What’s wrong?”
Balls
. If she was married or involved, worried because he’d said the love word, he’d…kidnap her and grovel to her and the husband. Beg her to let him be something to her, even do a sharing type thing if she’d just let him be a part of their lives.

He swallowed hard. “What is it?”

“I suggested you look into the LC, remember?”

“Yes. And billions will thank you. That, I promise.” He stared at her. “Go on… Tell me.”

“I… In the bar. I pushed myself on you and lied to you.”

She
is
married. Fuck-fuck-fuck.
“Lied?”

“I’m not an escort, hooker, whatever.”

His laugh burst out, a bark of relief, and pain throbbed through him at the sudden movement. “I know that.”

“I’m a fan, yes.” She sighed and her low voice grew even quieter. “But not some groupie. Don’t worry. If there’s a problem—which I doubt—I won’t even tell you if I decide on an abortion or not.”

His brain came to a screeching halt.

“You don’t have to make it seem like I’m anything to you,” she continued. “You don’t know me. I…”

I could be a father. I could have and hold the mother of my child for longer than a pair bonded by a near-death experience that drift apart once the dust settles. I think she could love me. Me. A dad. Me. A dad. Me…

“Are you listening?”

“Always.” He tightened his arm around her. “It was your call. I’d have stopped. You said yes. But I didn’t grab a condom from the dispenser hanging on the wall and I have rights, too. I’m no longer asking. You’re coming with me if I have to carry you kicking and screaming. We’ll debate insecurities and parental rights while dodging bullets because if you think the Love Center’s on its knees, you’re more naïve than any sweetheart I can ever hope to kiss again. Understand?”

“No. I stopped listening past me caveman who does as he wants.”

He chuckled.

She peeked at him beneath thick lashes. “Ever hope to kiss again?”

He didn’t hesitate. Kept the kiss short and sweet, the clock ticking. He pulled back and licked his lips, the taste of her one he never wanted to miss again.
Mine. All mine. I won’t lose her and God, how I want her.
He smirked. “It’s good luck to seal an agreement to go on the lam with more than a kiss.”

“Is that so?” she drawled. “Broken ribs and minutes before that agent bursts in here?”

Yippee time again.
No argument that she hadn’t said she’d go with him. “They’re not broken. The clock in my head says we have fifteen minutes and memory tells me you’re a firecracker.” He loved the blood rising in her cheeks. “A honeymoon requires slow savoring and repeats. I give my word, and if you really are JJ, you know what the integrity of words means to me. Jenna, sweetheart. We’ll have a honeymoon for a lifetime if you promise to obey—make that love—me, through violence and healing and running from fans and paparazzi and angry power mongers and a good chance I’ll get you killed. Say yes.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “For now. Okay?”

Gentle, you fool.
He slapped her butt. “No. More. I want you and a maybe-baby and a dog and a garden and a tea cozy and a picket—”

His heart sank as she tugged free of him and rolled off the bed.

“Okay, fine. I’ll take anything, anyway you want it.”

She hit the button, shifting the back half of the bed up as she adjusted the pillow behind him. “You won’t be going anywhere if you puncture a lung. Behave.”

He shook his head and patted his stomach. “Sit on top of me and we’ll give the guys a show when they open that door.”

She scowled.

Not wasting another second.
He lurched to grab her. Jaw clenched against the complaining bones in his chest, he lifted her to straddle him and homed in. To his joy, she didn’t hesitate and her mouth responded to his with aggression. He took her backward with him to rest against the pillow, while she eased her arm around his neck and deepened the kiss.

Their tongues dueled with a frantic need to please each other, and his skin began to hum as he caressed her most seductive rump to work at her skirt. Without breaking the kiss, she pushed up on her knees, making it easy for him to find the side zipper. Her tongue gave way to his, and she gasped and moaned into his mouth as his cock tented the flimsy hospital gown and his fingers fumbled. He felt like his ribs melted into pliable plastic, all energy concentrated in his throbbing dick.

She groaned, easing her head back and breaking the kiss. He gulped a shallow breath while she mumbled, “This isn’t a good idea. There’s no time, and I have to be hurting you.”

“You are.” He grunted. “Oh God—it’s agony. Get out of that blouse. Please. We have to seize…” He lost his train of thought as she shifted to her knees, and his hands sprang to attack the top button.
Fast, faster
—
whoa.
He froze on the third button down. There was something pink, silky and girlie beneath the pleated top, not the simple bra he’d expected. Lingerie in case evil bastards hadn’t existed and that shuttle had taken them to the moon?

A mental slap upside his head helped him focus and he came to a sweet and horrific conclusion. She’d hoped to be swept off her feet, carried to the bed by a devoted groom who had all the time in the world?

But assholes would drag him to an imaging machine any moment.

So what? Carpe diem. Do her. In-out-repeat. Hurry
.

His hands remembered how to work as he stared. Oh Christ, some sort of classy, intricate netting made of silk threads hugged her chest. A deep bob of his Adam’s apple and he wouldn’t stop himself for taking on button number four and five, even if she changed her mind…Well, he would, then die of disappointment. A rising tsunami of testosterone swamped him, wiping out exhaustion and any care of bruised bones other than one. His wood and pecker combined, tapping against the soft dip of her stomach, begging to be aimed lower and—
oops
—he popped the last three buttons. They shot out and hit the floor with pings.

Jenna’s breath hitched, and she shrugged off the blouse. He leaned back, his jaw slack as he absorbed the sight of breasts supported by the sexiest strips of material he’d ever seen. Some sort of pink, darker pink and black camisole that left pebbled nipples exposed and begging for his mouth.

“Oh God,” he croaked. “You’re so beautiful.” More than beautiful. Sugar and spice, the hottest thing a man could ever hope for on the best night of his life. God, it hurt, how much he wished they had a real honeymoon ahead of them.
I can’t do another wham-bam like in the bar, can I?

He felt the heat swamp his neck. All he cared about was getting off? Not making solid plans to ensure her safety, but treat the woman of the hour like a common bathroom fuck. A woman he known for a mere few days in real space, but she’d commented on his blog for a decade. Not being a total dimwit, he could read between the lines of what she’d written over the years. Highly empathic and intelligent, she was also a dippy romantic—worse that he was.

He forced his shaking hands from her and dropped his arms to bang against the bed. “I’m sorry. You deserve a man without a ticking countdown to being dragged away by either friend or foe. You smell fantastic, look so pretty and sexy I can barely say this.” He swallowed hard and flicked his hand toward the shelves of cleaning fluids. “Quickie in a bathroom stall or a utility closet, what type of jerk does that to a sweetheart like you?”

Chapter Eleven

Her skirt unzipped on one side, blouse off and breasts exposed through the risqué camisole, Jenna sat on top of Sam’s legs. He stared at her face not her body, the lust in his eyes turned to doubt—emotion his erection didn’t share.

Bunched at his knees, the hospital gown made a lovely pyramid at his crotch, moist where the tip of his cock leaked, and she found herself resenting a single drop being wasted on the fabric. His obvious interest showed he couldn’t care less he’d not had any sleep for ages, survived poisoning and a crash—and had a battered chest no longer supported by braces.

If none of that gave him pause to release the sheet at his sides and rip the priciest bit of clothing she’d ever brought off her, what was his problem? He couldn’t give her another five wonderful minutes of banging before some guy rescued him from the groupies surrounding this medical center? Her heartbeat faltered. Some of them, pretty young women she’d caught a glimpse of before being shut in a waiting area, wore T-shirts with
We Love SD
written across the front, and on the back—
In
TheLoop
Any Loophole, Front or Back.

She thrust out her lower lip. “You’re going to hold onto the sheet with both hands until they come to either X-ray your brain or sneak you—us—out of here?”

“Us,” he growled. “Us.”

“But nothing happens in the short time we have left.”

His face fell. “I told you. You expected—deserve—so much more.”

Because she’d dressed to seduce, he thought her high-maintenance? Like the bride he was supposed to be with, a woman who’d never settle for fast and furious in a bathroom or utility closet?

That familiar feeling, the python named Insecurity, slithered to squeeze the air from her lungs. Maybe it wasn’t that simple. Could be he’d put the brakes on because he worried they really could conceive a child. Realized every woman and gay on this planet wanted to sit where she was and that the door might open the moment things got hotter than a couple of kisses. Cameras would flash, and the world would know he was with a short, skinny nerd.

She should give up the Cinderella dream…
No. Please no.
Lust jolted through her veins, strangling the python and leaving her empty and yearning. She wished she dared to place her tongue where his was as he licked his lips, leaving her bracing for the shivers to race up her spine as he spoke in that sexy, gravelly voice.

“After all this settles down and we find a place to become anonymous, we can at least do the flowers and dinner thing first, right?”

Wrong. Poor man didn’t have a good memory. Only a total loser wouldn’t take advantage of that. She’d already showed him once that she knew how low to aim, how gently to squeeze. She shot her hand out and grasped that tent. His mouth fell softly open and he made no move to stop her. Instead, his rough pant told her he hung on by a thread.