Mistletoe & Hollywood (9 page)

“Shit,” he muttered.

I sucked at the fingers in my mouth, desperately trying not to let a sound escape me. All it did was intensify every pull and glide of his hand as his fingers moved in and out of my aching body.

“Shit, Keri Ann. Baby.” Jack’s voice was strangled and not that quiet. Hearing himself must have shocked him because suddenly he withdrew his hands.

“Please, don’t… don’t stop.”

In a moment, he’d stood, flipped our positions and had me lying on the bed. He dropped to his knees on the floor between my legs.

Oh, God.

I caught his dark gaze.

Both of us were breathing heavily. I felt so desperate. So uninhibited all of a sudden. I needed this. I needed Jack. These times, these raw, sensual times between us, when our words and our responses were the most honest, seemed to strip our souls bare to each other, reminding us that “us together” was more important than all the other
BS
we let dictate our moods and feelings.

“I’m so far from stopping,” he smirked, his eyes glinting at me before his gaze dropped between us. “I’ve missed you so much.” His fingers that had been inside me went to his mouth.

“God, Jack,” I rasped. How did he do this to me? Nothing was shocking with Jack, it was all natural and painfully arousing.

He pressed two fingers to my entrance, and I found myself rocking against them, my body desperate for relief, for friction.

“Please.”

A low throaty chuckle sounded as Jack moved his head closer. “What do you want, Keri Ann?” he whispered.

Self-consciousness began to squeeze my stomach, creeping into my mind. His breath was so close to where I needed him, it was making me desperate and nervous, my body clenching with tension. “You know what I want.”

“I want you to ask me.” There was no teasing in his voice, just pure need.

“You. I want you, your mouth, your hands; I don’t care. I need you. Please.” My voice broke.

“God, I love hearing that, you have no idea.” The last word was a mumble as his mouth made contact, his hot tongue flicking over me. His fingers thrust deep inside, forcing a sharp exhale out of my chest, relief and the sting of need all jumbled together. He withdrew and began to pump in a slow sensual rhythm.

Churning, dizzying heat twisted my stomach and poured through my veins. My hands grabbed at Jack’s hair, the sheets, and eventually, and more usefully, the pillow. I held back, attempting to keep my responses in check, in silence, gritting my teeth, and steeling my body. With the need to be quiet, I was pressure-filled and only getting wound tighter. And then I was past the point of no return, and yet it was still building.

Jack was relentless and focused, his tongue and his hands clearly not at all impinged by the alcohol he’d obviously consumed.

I was coming apart. I was hurtling down a track as bolts and ties tore loose inside me, but I couldn’t let go. Or maybe I simply couldn’t stop. I bucked against Jack’s mouth.

His free hand held me down, his fingers biting into my thigh, an answering groan seemed torn from his throat, vibrating against me.

“I can’t…” I tried. But then I did. My eyes screwed shut, squeezing desperate tears that came out of nowhere. I arched wildly against his mouth, forcing him harder against me. My climax roared through me, and forcing the pillow into my open mouth, I screamed silently.

A desperate sound came from Jack, and I was suddenly being pulled forward off the bed and onto his thighs. His mouth found mine, and I tasted myself mixed with a smoky whisky on his tongue as he kissed me deeply, his arms like steel bands around my body.

JACK WAS HUNG
over.

And I needed to get him back to optimum performance as soon as possible. I had eggs and bacon made, black coffee and orange juice standing by, and Paracetamol, which Charlotte had assured me was the same as Tylenol, lying in wait. Nigel was arriving in an hour to take us to Max’s place for lunch and to get Charlotte’s car that Jack had abandoned. Charlotte and Jeff had left at the crack of dawn.

I opened with the juice and a painkiller. “Wakey, wakey, rise and shine,” I sang, standing over the lump in the bed. His head was wedged under a pillow, and he emitted a long groan. “I have something you want,” I added.

“Does it include you, naked?” his gruff, disembodied voice asked.

“Uh, no.”

“Then I don’t want it.”

“It’s better than that,” I assured him.

He flung the pillow off his head, revealing a scowl and hair all over the place. He squinted up at me. “There’s nothing better than that.”

“There’s a painkiller. So you might actually enjoy it if I take my clothes off.”

He looked at me a beat longer, then held out his hand.

I plopped the pills into his palm and held out the juice while he scooted up onto an elbow.

“Why are you so chipper?” he asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me or something?”

“Is that what you were trying to accomplish?”

“No. I was being an asshole. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off like that without telling you where I was going.”

“Or taking your mom’s car so she had to get up at five this morning to go into the city with Jeff.”

“Shit. Are you serious? Oh my God.” He dropped his head into his hands.

“I’m kidding. She is gone, but only because she planned to do that anyway. You need to get your ass out of bed so we can go get her car. Nigel will be here soon.”

“You
are
mad at me.”

“Nope. I’m not. Not after what you accomplished last night. My feelings got hurt, and I was worried about you. We all were. Now get up, but take a shower first, you smell like an old pub.”

“Um… when you say what I accomplished last night, are you referring to the shattering orgasm I gave you? Because I feel like that should be a free pass for any future bullshit too.”

“I can’t believe you even remember it, to be honest. I think you were pretty tanked.”

“Baby, that was so intense, I practically came just getting you off. I probably would have, if I’d been sober. Trust me, I’m not likely to forget that in a hurry.”

“As amazing as it was—”

“As incredible, no, mind-blowing… as
mind-blowing
as it was,” he modified my sentence, “… continue.”

I picked up a small toss pillow and threw it at him.

He caught it midair.

“As
mind-blowing
as it was,” I conceded. “It is definitely not a free pass for future bullshit.”

His mouth quirked in a sexy grin. “Seriously? I’ll have to try harder next time.”

“I guess you will.” I widened my eyes and shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Now, come on.”

He let out a deep laugh and dropped his head back on the bed. “You don’t need to come with me to get the car. I can be back in a couple of hours.”

“Well, I want to meet Max, so I guess you’ll have to endure my company. We’re having lunch with him.”

“You do? We are?” A large smile spread across his unfairly handsome hungover face as he propped himself back up. “But that’ll be like…” His eyes widened dramatically. “
In public,
” he whispered.

“
I know.
” I smirked. “See you downstairs.”

“Wait,” he said and sat up abruptly, then winced and grabbed his head. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Damn it. We are finally alone in the house together and there’s not a chance I could lure you into this bed with me is there?” He reached for another sip of juice.

“Answer me this. Does your alcohol pickled mouth feel like the bottom of Gandhi’s flip flop?”

Jack snorted and choked on his juice.

I walked over and thumped his muscly back, shaking my head in mock pity. “Well, there’s not a chance I’m kissing it.”

“You mean-spirited hoyden,” Jack griped.

THE DRIVE DOWN
to Hastings took a little over an hour. Jack with a full belly and some painkillers was feeling better, and the two of us lounged in the back, me leaning against him, my back held tightly to his chest in a comfortable embrace. I wanted to watch the scenery but we both ended up dozing.

It was cold and clear down at the coast.

“The town is technically St. Leonards-on-Sea. On really clear days, you’re supposed to be able to see France,” Jack murmured, following my gaze out the window as we arrived. The sky reflected blue flakes twinkling across the water. Upon closer inspection, after Nigel let us out by the sea wall, the English Channel was as brown and churned up as the ocean in my part of the world. But there were no marshes here. Just rocks, pebble beaches, and a shit load of seagulls perched on pier pilings. In the distance was a fleet of brightly painted fishing boats. It was bracingly cold, the wind off the water whipping my hair across my cheeks.

I turned away from the water and the wind. The town was nestled in by sheer cliff faces. The road along the sea wall was lined with lampposts wrapped in Christmas greenery and lights that were probably beautiful at night.

Max’s place opposite us was a renovated Victorian townhome, painted pale grey and retrofitted with huge windows. It was beautiful. The sea views must be stunning from inside. Jack had explained that far from an inn, it was more of a luxury boutique hotel. There were hardly any pedestrians around, this being a mostly residential section of the town. The odd person may take a picture with their smartphone if they cared to notice us, but the chances of a paparazzo finding us seemed remote.

“Do you think Max would mind if we took a walk on the beach first?” I asked. “With such a pebbly shore line, I’m positive there must be some sea glass to be found here.”

He took his phone out. “I’ll text him and tell him we’ll be there in about… how long?”

“Half an hour?”

He gave a nod and his thumbs went to work. Then we said goodbye to Nigel and found a set of stairs leading down to the stony beach.

“This cold won’t let me stay out here long.” I gasped as a particularly frigid gust permeated my jeans and thick sweater. We’d left the waxed jackets at home due to the clear forecast. “At least I know England is actually capable of a blue sky, though.”

Jack took my hand. “So why the change of heart about being seen in public?”

I sighed and tried to organize my thoughts. After Charlotte and I had spoken last night, it was the first thing I’d thought about upon waking. Was my fear of the publicity forcing Jack to splinter apart his life and compartmentalize it even more? Making him feel, as Charlotte had suggested, emptier and emptier in his working life? If so, it was pretty much the most unfair thing I could do. And with all of his compartmentalizing, was it stopping him from becoming whole again, at peace with his past? We always connected perfectly in our sexual life, but was I really giving us a fair shot? I felt like coming here with Jack, meeting Max and supporting him in integrating a small part of his past life, was at least a step in the right direction.

“I’m not seeking it out, and this sleepy coastal town hardly counts as going out in public… but…”

Jack’s arm closed around me and pulled me close as we walked. “But?”

“Maybe I’ve been a bit of a weirdo about it. I mean the sooner everyone gets used to seeing us together, the sooner it will become less of an issue. Not that they’ll take photos of you less, but perhaps I won’t feel like such a… specimen.”

He laughed. “Yes, I do believe that’s what I told you. Anyway, you’ve been totally gracious every time they do get in our faces. I think you’ll find they can’t help falling in love with you. There hasn’t been one derogatory thing written about you since all the Audrey shit finally died down.”

“How do you know? Do you look for stuff on me too?” I looked up from the stones beneath my feet.

He looked down at me. “The publicist keeps tabs for me… And now for ‘us.’”

“Huh.”

“What’s huh?”

“Look, Jack. I know you’ve been protecting me kind of, and I totally appreciate it.”

“It’s for me too, you know. I don’t relish being fodder all the time either.”

“I know, but let me finish.” I smiled at him. “I appreciate you protecting me, it’s what you promised to do. But perhaps it’s making you feel like you’re… kind of ‘on your own’ out there, while I sit safely in your non-movie life.”