“I’m counting on that.”
Cameron reached for the zipper that ran along one side and inched it down. Without dropping Jack’s gaze, she then untied the halter around her neck. The dress fell in a pool at her feet. She faced him wearing nothing but her black silk thong panties.
And of course, her high heels.
Her ni**les tightened in the cool air of the hotel room. Or maybe it was just Jack’s look.
Lust clouded his eyes as he took in every inch of her, and she had never felt more sexy—and bold—than she did right then.
“Your turn,” she said.
He undid the buttons on his shirt and peeled it off, revealing a tight white T-shirt that showed off his firm chest muscles.
Cameron was aching to get her hands on him. As if sensing this, he crossed the room. Her pulse skyrocketed as he approached, yet he still didn’t touch her.
“Now you,” he said.
She reached up and removed the antique-silver chandelier earrings Amy had picked for her, dropping them to the floor beside the dress.
“That’s cheating,” Jack said.
“You have four times the clothing on that I do.”
With one swift tug, he yanked his T-shirt over his head. “Better?”
Hell . . . yes.
Cameron took her time, savoring the sight. The hard muscles . . . the tight, six-pack abs . . . the light scattering of dark hair on his chest. . . . She wanted to taste every inch of him.
Then, briefly coming out of her daze, she noticed something else. Of course.
She had forgotten about the scars.
Three years ago she had read the files that contained a very detailed report of the hell that Martino’s men had put Jack through during the two days they’d held him captive. But she hadn’t thought about the physical scars that kind of hell would’ve left behind.
Her eyes took in the cigarette and electrical burns by his right shoulder, moved to the knife wounds along his side and under his ribs, then came to a stop on the quarter-sized circular scar high on the left side of his chest—from the bullet he had taken when making his escape.
Cameron raised her eyes to Jack’s. He was watching her carefully, to see her reaction.
She stepped forward and rested her hands on his chest. She gently kissed the scars on his shoulder. She did the same to the one on his chest, and after that bent down to run her lips over the scars under his ribs and along his side. Then, unable to help herself, she ran her tongue along the soft trail of hair that started at his navel and disappeared behind his belt buckle.
Jack pulled her up and stared into her eyes with a ferocity that would’ve scared her under any other circumstance. He guided her backward, and when she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her knees she needed no encouragement to lie down on top of it.
“You still have a lot more clothing on than I do,” Cameron said, rising onto her elbows.
“I can fix that.”
She watched as Jack undid his belt buckle, then the button on his pants. His eyes feasted on the sight of her lying on the bed before him as he unzipped his fly. She caught a brief glimpse of gray boxer-briefs just before he slid them off with his pants, socks, and shoes. Then he stood before her in all his glory.
She would never, ever compare him to a molten lava cake again. After seeing Jack’s naked body, all other delicacies were henceforth ruined for her.
Of course, her eyes were drawn to that part of him, the part that was big and hard and raring to go. All for her.
Jack climbed onto the bed, and she lay back. His dark, fiery gaze made her shiver with anticipation, yet he still didn’t touch her.
He nodded to her near-naked body. “You choose what’s next.”
Did he want her to beg? Because she was nearly at that point. “God, Jack . . . touch me . . .”
He smiled.
He was the devil.
“Choose,” he repeated.
“I’ll keep the shoes,” Cameron said defiantly.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” His hands moved to her hips and tugged her panties down her legs and over her shoes. Then his mouth started at her knee and slowly made the opposite journey, up her thigh, along her hip, her stomach, the V between her br**sts, her neck, and swept down on her mouth. She moaned, finally able to kiss him. His arm slid under her back, and he pulled her up so that she was sitting on his legs, straddling his hips.
“You’re so beautiful, Cameron,” he said, running his finger along the side of her face. “Despite everything that happened, over the last three years there were so many times I would lay in bed at night, thinking about you.”
“What did you think about?” she asked, sliding her hands up his chest.
“Doing this.” He pulled her breast into his mouth. His tongue glided over the tip in a wet, silken caress, and he licked and sucked until she thought she’d go crazy. Then he moved to the other one, her nipple already hard and tight, begging for his touch. Gently cupping her breast, he drew the rosy peak into his mouth.
She started to rock on his lap, desperate for more. While his mouth continued its assault on her br**sts, he slid his hands around her hips. One hand cupped her bottom while the other slid between their bodies. His fingers stroked their way to the core of her, opening the soft, wet folds. When he found the center, he teased her with his thumb, massaging back and forth until she was shaking. He slid a finger into her, and then another, and she gasped as his fingers slowly drew in and out, and again, finding a rhythm that nearly sent her over. She cupped his face and pulled him up, kissing him hotly.