Intoxicated (18 page)

“Wait. Let’s get comfortable first.” Threading his fingers through her hand, he led her to the bedroom. The shabby room glowed with yellow candlelight — he must’ve done that while she was in the bathroom — and smelled of fresh linen. Smooth jazz played from a portable CD player in the corner. He shut the door behind them and locked it.
 

“Very nice,” she murmured, appreciatively. “Is this how you treat all your women?”
 

“Nope.” He grinned as he toed off his shoes then flopped onto the bed, reclining back on his elbows. “This is only for you, baby doll.” One long-fingered hand patted the mattress beside him. “Take your shoes off and have a seat.”

 
Ally sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, but Jack rolled onto his side and pulled her down beside him. With his forefinger, he pushed the hair back from her forehead. “Now talk.”

“Okay. Well...my dad’s a retired Marine,” Ally began, distracted by the gentle stroking of his fingers through her hair. “I don’t see him much. He likes to travel with his girlfriend
du jour
.
 

“So your parents are divorced then?” A strand of hair, encouraged by humidity and heat, curled around Jack’s little finger like a tiny serpent. He tugged on the curl, smiling with delight.

“My mom died when I was young.” The lie slipped easily from her lips before she could stop it. It was so much easier to lie than to explain the endless string of mental institutions and failed marriages that made up her mother’s life. “And I have a half-brother that lives in California.”

Ally stopped and sucked in a deep breath as Jack’s hand brushed her breast. The contact had been unintentional but her skin pebbled with gooseflesh all the same.
 

“So you lived with your dad then?” His hand traced lightly down her arm, across her waist and down the length of her thigh to her knee.
 

“Well, he was in the Marines so I lived with my grandparents — his parents — until they died. Then I went to boarding school and away to college after that.” It was difficult to concentrate with that roaming hand teasing along the edges of her dress. She was grateful for the distraction from the pathetic story of her life.

“What about your brother? Are you two close?”
 

“I’ve never met him. I’m not even sure he knows about me.” As Jack’s fingers dipped beneath the hem of her dress and brushed against her panties, she sighed with pleasure. ”What about you? Are your parents divorced?”

“My parents were married a long time — until my dad died. He ran a bar in Chicago that had belonged to my grandfather and his father before him. Taught me everything he knew about tending bar. My oldest brother runs the place now.” As he spoke, his gaze followed his hand to her breasts. He squeezed one round globe then the other with a gleam of satisfaction. “I come from a long line of alcoholics.”

“I’m sorry – about your dad,” she said, partly because she
was
sorry and partly because she’d somehow lost the ability to think coherently. He’d managed to work one breast free of the halter top and bent to flick the nipple with the tip of his tongue. When she gasped, he shot her a grin then rasped his bearded stubble against the tight peak. The contrast of soft and rough sent a pang of desire straight into her womb.
 

“You’re fidgeting. Something wrong?” Even white teeth nipped at her nipple then gleamed in a devilish smile. The bastard knew exactly what was wrong.

“I can’t think when you’re doing that.”
 

“Exactly,” he replied with smug self-satisfaction. “Now let’s do the other one.”

Despite the distraction of Jack’s lips and hands on her body, conversation flowed easily between them. He had a way of listening as if what she said mattered, as if there was no other place on earth that he’d rather be. Between kisses and caresses, he dropped tidbits of information that left her curious. She gathered that he had six sisters and three brothers, had lived in Chicago all his life but left when he turned eighteen and hadn’t been back home in almost two years. When she asked why, he shrugged and dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder then swept a hand along the inside of her thigh to stroke her with his thumb. The man knew how to touch a girl in a way that left her wanting more.

“Jack, you’re making me crazy.”

“No. You’re making
me
crazy,” he replied. “Aren’t you going to touch me? You’ve got a death grip on that sheet. Do you think the bed might throw you off?”

He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head then reclined back on the pillows beside her. An incoming tidal wave of lust rushed through her veins, sending heat into her cheeks and a fine dew of perspiration on her upper lip. The half smile faded from his lips. He pried her hand from the bed sheet and placed it on his left breast. The thudding of his heart rose to meet her palm.

“Feel that? It happens every damn time you come near me. Every damn time, Ally.” He pulled her hand down his chest, over the hollow and swell of muscle and bone, letting her become familiar with his body.
 

The rhythm of her own heart tripled as her hand traced the hollow of his chest. Two scars like flat circles broke the smooth skin of his rib cage. With a tentative fingertip, she circled his navel and ruffled the trail of black springy hairs that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. The bronzed skin heated beneath her hand and pebbled with gooseflesh wherever her fingers touched. His head tipped back and his eyes squeezed shut as she explored the generous swell beneath the fly of his jeans. He was as hard as steel beneath the soft denim. As she cupped him, he tilted his hips, pressing into her hand, and groaned.

“Jesus,” she murmured to herself.

“What?” Jack’s eyes opened, narrow black slits beneath winged brows.
 

“Nothing.”
 

“I heard you.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Hell no.” He placed his hand over hers and pushed it against him, pressing into her palm, his breath hissing sharply. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Fascinated by his body’s response to her touch, she continued her exploration. Every caress brought a reaction either physical or audible. His hands stroked up and down her back. When she bent to bite his nipple as he had done hers, he grimaced and took a handful of her bottom in his grip. She’d have fingerprints there tomorrow, she thought as she pressed tiny kisses along his abdomen down to his belt buckle. He tasted of salt and smelled like a man should, an earthy combination of soap and sweat and leather.
 

Without thinking to ask, she unbuckled his belt, eased down his zipper and came face to face with the evidence of his arousal. It was smooth and pink, except for the tip which was a deep red, and ridged with veins. Underneath her hand it felt hot and heavy, throbbing at her touch.

“It looks angry,” she said with a smirk. With a careful finger, she traced the vein running down one side then gripped it and pulled. His grunt of surprise made her giggle.
 

“You like torturing me, don’t you? It’s not angry. It’s in heaven.” He put both his hands behind his head and smiled down at her. She pulled on it again to hear his groan of pleasure. “But it’s going to get angry if you keep doing that.” He tugged on the hem of her dress. “You’ve got too many damn clothes on.”
 

 
“Can we blow out the candles?”

 
“Nope. I want to see all of that gorgeous body of yours. I want you to see what I’m doing to you.”

“I’m not comfortable with the lights on.” She squeezed her eyes shut as if he couldn’t see her then.
 

“Ally, you’re beautiful. Look.” He cupped one on her breasts in his hand. “Beautiful. Perfect.”
 

The dark bronze of his fingers stood out in stark relief against her pale skin. It had been a long time since she’d seen herself naked outside of the bathroom mirror which showed nothing below the waist. She watched, entranced, as his hand swept down the rounded curve of her belly to cup between her legs. His fingers stroked through the tiny curls, gentle and reverent. The sight of his lean, tanned length stretched out beside her sent a jolt of desire throughout her body, so strong that her legs convulsed.
 

“Beautiful. So beautiful, Ally. I could lick every inch of you and still want more.” The heat of his body pressed against hers, insistent and demanding, while his hands remained gentle. “Keep touching me, baby. Don’t let go.”
 

At his insistence, she swept her hands along the groove of his back, feeling the thick cord of muscle on either side. He was gracefully made, long-limbed and perfectly proportioned. The heat of his breath traveled along her collarbone, up her neck to her ear. His nose nuzzled her hair while his hands kept teasing and taunting. The deep rumble of his voice sent chills down her spine as he murmured words of encouragement. Her hands went lower and lower still until she felt the dented muscle on each side of his buttocks. She pulled him onto her and pushed his hips down, demanding satisfaction.
 

“Greedy.” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, teasing her. “Maybe we should lay off for a while. Concentrate on building this relationship.”

“Like hell. Maybe you’re not up to it.” The evidence pressed against her belly said otherwise. One of his knees nudged gently between hers, the hairs of his leg scratching against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Still, he denied her. Frustrated, her hips jerked in impatience. “Now who’s doing the torturing?”

“Ally.” The commanding tone of his voice made her stop wriggling and look at him. His eyes were dark and solemn and very, very close. “Ally.” The second time he spoke her name with a reverence that made her forget everything...the tension, the shyness, the embarrassment and shame...forget everything but him.

“
Jack!”
He slid home with an unexpectedness that brought his name from her lips in a cry of ecstasy. 
 

Ally awoke some time later in a tangle of sheets and limbs, naked and dripping with sweat, amid total darkness. Jack slept on his side facing her, his hand wedged between her thighs, exuding heat like a blast furnace. The candles had long since extinguished, leaving hardened puddles of wax at their bases. The only sounds in the room were Jack’s deep even breathing and the ticking of a clock on the dresser.
 

With exaggerated slowness to keep from waking him, she pushed the sheets away and attempted to slide out from underneath Jack’s legs. The fingers on her thigh tightened until she stilled. His grip relaxed. The urge to put emotional distance between them overwhelmed her and she had to fight to keep calm. Her breath caught in her throat. The sculpted features resting on the pillow beside her remained immobile, black eyelashes fanned in half-moons against his cheeks as he slept. Moved by his vulnerability, she drew her fingers across his full lips then kissed him.

Jack had made love to her three times in all, each encounter growing with fervor and intensity until he obliterated what little defenses she had left against him. He demanded her full attention from the moment his lips touched hers, forcing her to focus on the sensations of flesh against flesh. When her mind threatened to shut him out, he brought her back to him with unyielding tenacity, using his hands and lips and teeth to subdue the rebellion. With those barriers dissolved, she had feared that he might take everything from her, that she would somehow lose a part of herself. Instead, he gave himself to her in a way that left her trembling and shaken by his generosity.
 

Now, as impossible as it seemed after their marathon sex, a fresh wave of lust surged through her.

“Can you keep it down over there? I can’t sleep with your brain making all that noise.” One eye cracked open and stared at her across the crest of the wave of sheets.
 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Do you know what time it is?”
 

“It’s not time to get up, if that’s what you’re asking.” The deep voice was rough with sleep. “Why? Do you have an appointment?”

“No. I just...no.” What was she doing? She drew a hand across her eyes and cursed under her breath as her brain warred with her heart. The sensible, uptight Ally demanded an immediate retreat to safer territory while the newly discovered sexually sated Ally wanted to burrow deep into Jack’s arms and never leave.
 

“Ally?” Jack’s throaty whisper corralled her attention.

“Yes?”
 

“Go back to sleep or I’ll have to fuck you again.” As he spoke, his hands found her bottom and pulled her hard against him, squashing her breasts against his chest and her hips against his. The feel of his breath on her neck as he nuzzled her hair made her squirm.
 

“I’ll never get back to sleep if you keep doing that,” she said with a thrill of anticipation.

“Like I always say, sleep is overrated.”
 

Jack collapsed onto the mattress, chest heaving from exertion, the remnants of his release still sparking jolts of electricity down his legs. Ally lay beside him, her tumultuous hair fanned over the pillow, mouth agape, and eyes glazed. He trailed lazy fingers over the velvety white skin of her belly, but she continued to stare at the ceiling with her breasts wobbling after every breath.