The Misconception (33 page)

She gently removed his fingers and squeezed them. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.” She paused, wondering how best to bring up what was on her mind. “But there is something I’d like to ask you.”

“I was kidding about Aunt Martha, Uncle Wilbur and the insane asylum. Honest I was. As far as I know, the Jackson genes are top-rate.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “This isn’t about your family. It’s about what you said to that man at the bar tonight.” She paused, swallowed. “Did you mean it?”

His eyebrows rose, and he emitted a short breath. “Of course I did. I wasn’t going to let him get away with insulting you like that.”

“I meant the part where you said I was brilliant and that my ideas and opinions deserved respect. Did you mean that part?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“But you don’t agree with any of my ideas.” She paced away from him to the opposite side of the room. “I’d even venture to say they drive you a little crazy.”

His brow knotted. “That doesn’t mean I don’t respect them. It doesn’t mean I don’t think your ideas have some truth. It’s when you take one of your general theories and apply it to me specifically that I have a problem.”

Curious, she paced back to the general vicinity of where he stood. “Oh? Such as?”

“Such as that stuff you’re always spouting about men being driven to spread their seed as widely as possible. On the surface, that’s probably true. But it doesn’t take into account the way a man changes once he’s met the right woman.” Jax took a step closer to her, and the air seemed thick with a warmth that enveloped her body and wrapped around her heart. “It doesn’t figure in the way I’ve changed since I met you.”

“How. . .” Marietta’s voice broke on the word, so she had to start over. “How have you changed?”

“I don’t want anybody but you.” He removed the half-empty glass of milk from her trembling fingers. He set it on the mantle, never taking his eyes off hers. “You’re in my blood, Marietta.”

He picked up one of her hands and placed it on his chest. His heart beat strongly against her fingertips. She ran her gaze over his square jaw, sensuous mouth and strong nose before stopping at his brown eyes.

“You’re in my heart, too,” he whispered.

She didn’t believe the heart was anything more than an organ pumping the blood necessary for life, but a thrill shot through her at his words. Her eyes fastened on his mouth. She thought her own hear would stop beating if he didn’t kiss her.

He swallowed, licked his lips and kept staring at her with those hot, brown eyes. He was obviously waiting for a reply. But Marietta didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel.

Anchoring a hand on his good shoulder and raising on her tiptoes, she kissed him. She drank in his taste, so heady she was drunk with pleasure from the mere act of putting her lips to his. Not able to help herself, she traced the beautiful line of his lips with her tongue and was awarded with his groan.

His mouth molded to hers as though it had been designed to fit the curve of her lips. Desire swirled through her like a drug. She angled her head, allowing him freer access to her mouth, thrilling at the stroke of his tongue and warmth of his breath. She moaned while his lips were still on hers, a primal noise that disappeared into his mouth.

He drew back and kissed the side of her mouth, the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck.

“I love the little sounds you make when I kiss you,” he whispered against her ear, nipping lightly on the lobe. She whimpered all over again.

He thrust his hand into her hair, coaxing the silken strands to fall down around her shoulders. He pulled back and stared into her face with eyes that burned like the embers of a still-glowing fire.

“I love the way you look with your hair down, all sexy and rumpled.” His mouth was back on hers, and she could feel him smiling. “Definitely un-professor-like.”

His free hand ran through her hair, over her shoulder and slipped beneath her unstructured jacket so he could caress her breast through the material of her shirt. She strained against him as her nipple pebbled. Passion boiled in a steamy pool deep inside her.

He came up for air, his breath hot and erratic on her face. He lowered his hand, cupped her bottom and brought her flush against his hard length. She rubbed against him, whimpering.

“I love the way your body reacts when I touch you, as though you can’t get close enough to me,” he said.

She buried her face in his neck to shower kisses wherever her mouth landed.

“Look at me, Marietta.” His words were rough and insistent.

She met his passion-dark eyes.

“I love you,” he said. “I think I’ve loved you almost from the first time I saw you.”

She couldn’t respond, couldn’t think clearly. She didn’t believe in love, did she? She’d stated repeatedly in her lectures that attraction between the sexes had nothing to do with love and everything to do with sex.

So why did a part of her thrill at hearing him say the words? Why did she want to make love to Jax instead of any of the other men she’d come across in her life? Why was the liking and the respect she had for him all mixed up with the desire?

Why did she want to kiss him again instead of pointing out all the biological reasons he was mistaken?

His hand came up to her cheek. He touched her tenderly, like a lover would. “Make love with me, Marietta.”

Her lips parted, but her vocal chords wouldn’t work. So she nodded. The smile he gave her wasn’t so much triumphant as exhilarated. His hand slipped from her cheek, locked with hers, guided her along as he moved through his house to his bedroom.

She had an impression of heavy wood furniture, earthy hues and painted walls that reminded her of the colors of a meadow. Then Jax dropped her hand and struggled out of his sling.

His shoulder! Marietta had forgotten all about his shoulder. She laid a hand on his good arm, alarm leaping in her breast. “Wait. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

His laugh was full-throated as he took his arm the rest of the way from the sling. “Honey, it’d hurt a whole lot more if we stop right now.”

“But. . .” Marietta began, then paused. She’d been about to argue against something she wanted more than university tenure. She swallowed as he slipped the jacket off her shoulders and began to unbutton her blouse. “You’re sure?”

“Tell you what,” he said with eyes that contained a fascinating combination of laughter and passion. “You can be on top.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. . .” she began, but lost her train of thought when his hands busied themselves in removing her clothing. His clever lips came back to hers over and over to dip into the well of passion she hadn’t known ran so deep. Within moments, she was naked.

He stepped back to gaze at her, and she remembered how she’d looked that morning in the mirror after her shower. Embarrassed, her hand immediately covered her pregnant stomach.

“I’m showing,” she said, and it sounded like an apology. “It’s not very sexy.”

“Not sexy?”

She wet her lips and shook her head. “Studies have shown that men are most attracted to—”

“Don’t you dare start talking about hip-waist ratios again.” He moved toward her, and ran a big, warm hand over her stomach. “Do you know how sexy it is to know it’s my baby in there? That a part of me is living in a part of you? You’re the sexiest pregnant lady I’ve ever seen.”

He followed up on his words by taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless while his hands did a magic dance over her body. She fumbled at his clothing, wanting to feel his bare skin against hers. Within moments, he was as naked as she was.

Then he was flat on his back on the neatly made bed, his body as beautiful as Marietta remembered, all muscle and brawn and. . . bruises. A large bluish mark marred his injured shoulder, but there were smaller ones below his ribs and over his upper thighs. She started to comment on them, but then he pulled her down on top of him. Flesh slid against flesh, making her forget everything but the terrible, wonderful yearning.

Her naked stomach pressed against his. Along with the liquid heat of desire that gathered inside of it, she felt a fluttering of life from the baby they had made together.

She lost herself in the moment and in the man so that, for that one brief space of time while they loved each other’s bodies, she could almost believe she loved him, too.

JAX GATHERED MARIETTA’S warm, naked body to his side, figuring the ache in his injured shoulder was more than offset by the pleasure still radiating through the rest of him. He kissed her sweet-smelling hair. “Stay with me tonight.”

“Tracy—”

“Tracy will figure it out. Tracy’s on my side.”

He felt her smile against shoulder. “I hadn’t realized there were sides.”

“There’s not. At least, not anymore. I think I just got you to defect.”

“Cocky? Aren’t we?”

He laughed. “It’s hard not to be after the way you were screaming my name.”

“I was not.” She sounded indignant.

“Was, too,” he teased, kissing her hair again and running his hand up and down her shoulder. “Did I mention how much I liked that? The sound effects, I mean.”

“Is that all you liked?”

He chuckled. “I didn’t just like it. I loved it.” He waited a beat, timing his next words. “The way I love you.”

Her body went rigid, the way he’d thought it might but hoped it wouldn’t. But, damn it. She hadn’t responded when he told her he loved her, and he wanted to know what was going on in that puzzling brain of hers.

“Love,” she said flatly, “is a four-letter word for sex.”

He swore ripely, pulled his arm from around her shoulders and sat up in bed. For the first time since they’d started making love, the ache in his shoulder registered. He scowled.

“For a smart woman, you can be pretty dumb,” Jax said. “I’ve had sex before. I know what it is and what it feels like. What you and I just shared, that wasn’t sex. That was love.”

Marietta pulled the covers over her breasts and sat up across from him. She shook her head. “You’re confused. Good sex can do that. You’re confusing the afterglow with something else.”

“Then why do I want to spend the rest of my life with you?

Why do I love that confounding brain of yours as much as I love your body? Why do I want to know more about the woman who lives underneath all that tweed? Why does it tug at my soul the way you’d do anything for your sister? Why can’t I think of anything besides getting you to marry me?”

She didn’t answer, so he reached out, cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him. “You’re going to marry me, Marietta. You know that’s true.”

She didn’t deny it, which he took as a positive sign. He leaned down and kissed her, encouraged by the way her lips clung to his. Even though she hadn’t told him she loved him, her body was saying it.

“This isn’t about the baby anymore, although God knows I want to have a baby with you. This is about me and you. I’ve loved you since I saw you standing there at the airport, all prim and proper, wearing that ridiculous dress and waving that silly sign.”

“You can’t be sure that was love,” Marietta said, but she no longer sounded so certain.

“Yes, I can.” He kissed her again. “I love you, and you’re just going to have to get used to it.”

Chapter 21

“Do you realize it’s not even noon?” Tracy’s annoyed voice penetrated the sensual haze that enveloped Marietta, and she reluctantly drew back in Jax’s arms, just far enough to disengage their lips. “Don’t you two get enough of that when the lights go out? Do you have to make out in the middle of the day, too?”

Marietta’s gaze ran over Jax, taking in the way his broad, well-defined chest tapered to a trim waist and a compact, muscular behind that could make even a chair deliriously happy.

“Yes,” she answered, smiling into Jax’s eyes.

“For cripe’s sake, show a little restraint,” Tracy complained, running fingers through hair she’d had cut boy short and proving to Marietta that not everybody loved a lover.