He dropped a kiss on her forehead, another on her jaw. “You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”
Slowly, she nodded. “You…You’re right.”
“And your friend Reggie. He might be guilty, yes. He might not. Until we know more, don’t assume anything.”
Morgan shook her head. “But he’s totally into photography. No one else—”
“I understand. Just wait. Deke will keep digging. For now, I think it’s important that you don’t talk to Reggie, not until we know more. Had you planned to call him, check in?”
“I tried yesterday. I can’t get a cell signal out here.”
“No.” Jack shook his head. “Most people can’t. Will he raise some red flag if you don’t call?”
“Not for a while; a few more days probably.”
“Hopefully, we’ll have this sorted out by then. Until then, don’t assume the worst. We have one fact that doesn’t make things look good for Reggie, but nothing is absolute. And even if he is guilty, you know he can’t find you here, right?”
Wherever here was… “Right.”
“In the meantime, I’m here to protect you.”
“Why?” Why would he go so far out in a limb for her? “You don’t have to keep that promise.”
“Yes, I do.” He nuzzled her neck, teeth nipping at her lobe as his hot breath fanned in her ear. “Besides, with you, it’s about more than protection.”
Morgan shivered. She became aware of his fingers sliding up her arms to clamp around her wrists again, his legs pinning her own beneath him once more, the heat transferring between them, down the line of their bodies. And the stalk of his erection, thick, long, insistent.
“So much more,” he whispered. “You amaze me. You are smart enough to stay one step ahead of a very determined psycho. Sweet enough to addict me. Stubborn enough to defy me. Strong enough to work to break into TV, which I know is a tough business.”
The nicest compliment Andrew had ever paid her was to claim she was dazzling. Great, so she filled out a dress well. Whoopee. But Jack’s words drizzled onto her one at a time like hot fudge on a sundae, coating her fear with something soothing and wonderful
A man out to hurt her wouldn’t care if she was smart, sweet, stubborn, or strong. Even more, he’d paid attention to her. Her—the deep-down person she was.
Jack was getting to her, slowly making her melt. With a press of his hips against her sex, she melted a bit more. A flare of arousal ignited and spread through her body. With a sharp inhalation, she took the scent of him into her nose. He lingered there: leather, man, cypress, mystery. The urge—the ache—to press up and meet him gripped her.
“You puzzle me, too,” he murmured against her skin, pretending not to notice how she tensed against him. “You took a big risk in digging beyond your own uncertainty and starting a TV show that encourages people to explore their sexuality, whatever it is. But you hesitate to explore your own. Why?”
“I explored. I’m just not sure I want to be…held down or restrained or—”
“Tied to my bed? You like being at my mercy.”
“I don’t want to work that way! It’s not normal.”
“It’s perfectly ‘normal’ not to want straight vanilla sex. You’re not wired for that, cher.”
“I’ve got to be. I want to be!”
Before Jack, she’d never had a man bring her to multiple orgasms. It didn’t seem possible that he was only able to because he tied her down and filled her head with wicked suggestions of submission and other dirty deeds she had only fantasized about. That wasn’t it. Any way he touched her would be mind-blowing because she found the man himself irresistible. The pleasure he gave her had nothing to do with his domination.
“I know you wish you were.” He smoothed a tangle of wild, flame-colored hair back from her face. “But if you’d let me, I’d help you. I want to show you that your desires are not only perfectly normal, but totally wonderful.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“You’re burying your head in the sand and wasting yourself on what you want to be true, rather than what is,” he growled, frustration tightening his mouth.
Morgan shook her head. No. A thousand times no.
But she feared he was right. Something deep inside her flowered at his words. Hope, need, yearning. It was all there, every bit she’d tried to push down, block from her conscious mind. A part of her—a big part—wanted to gobble up everything he had to offer.
“Why are you running from yourself?”
Andrew’s ugly slurs replayed in Morgan’s head, slashing deep at her self-confidence. You’re depraved. Only a whore wants that!
As the tension ramped up in her body, so did Jack’s grip on her wrists. He drew one hand from her own to slide against her naked cheek. The warmth of his palm against her cool skin brought her completely back to the present. Back to the fact that Jack lay on top of her, his big body taut and tense and spread out, completely covering her.
“Why are you the way you are?” she challenged. “Does there have to be a reason?”
“I can cuff you to this bed,” he growled. “Order your sweet submission, fuck you half the night and get you off half a dozen times.”
Desire gouged her belly like a hot sword at his terrible, provocative words. Morgan closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, ignoring her dampening sex, and shook her head. “The only thing I want you to get is the hell off me.”
She bucked beneath him, trying to throw him off her body. He didn’t budge.
“I can feel your nipples stabbing my chest and your pussy getting all sweet and damp for me. I’m right, and you know it.”
“I know you’re pushy! Maybe I don’t want to be ordered or bound or made to submit. Maybe I just want to be touched. Held. In the regular way.”
He raised a dark brow. “You think you want vanilla sex?”
“Traditional,” she corrected. “Absolutely.”
Jack hesitated, his dark eyes scanning her face. The disbelief etched there played havoc with her composure.
“We have some…chemistry. I’m not denying that,” she rattled. “I just think we’d find plenty of pleasure together without the ropes and commands.”
Staring, Jack appeared to be sorting through the possibilities. Quickly, he came to a conclusion. And he smiled.
She didn’t trust that wide, white-teethed Cajun grin for an instant.
“As you wish,” he purred. “Vanilla it is, cher.”
His capitulation was too easy. Now she really didn’t trust him. “You mean that?”
“Oui. You’ll get nothing but kisses, gentle fondling, and straight missionary penetration.”
Jack made it sound dull, damn it, and it wasn’t. It wouldn’t be between them. Still, some weird stab of disappointment ached like a pain in her gut that he’d acquiesced so easily.
Gosh, did she ever sound contrary. She’d won her way. She ought to be thrilled.
“Thank you,” Morgan whispered.
He shrugged and shot her an ironic smile. “I aim to please.”
Ignoring the hitch of disquiet brewing inside her, she smiled back as Jack released her wrists, moved his legs to allow her own more freedom. The taut coil of his spine relaxed and he settled on top of her, elbows bracing him on either side of her head.
Jack glided gentle thumbs down her cheekbones and lowered his mouth to hers. Soft. Like a ghost, his lips whispered over her own, neither giving nor taking. Merely existing, soothing with a sweet press of lips, of breaths.
Morgan closed her eyes and tried to sink into the tender rhythm of the kiss that flowed and lulled and seduced.
Nice. Wonderful, even. But she wanted…more of it.
It took two to tango, so she could fix that. Reaching around Jack’s head, she filtered her fingers through the soft spikes of his short hair and pressed his lips down on hers. He gave her more— pressure, access, passion. She moaned in the back of her throat.
The kiss was timeless, endless. The sweet exchange of sighs, the gentle slide of tongues, the total immersion of her senses in him as a man all filled her. Desire rose in lilting waves to wash a soothing sort of want over her. She couldn’t wait to be closer, to touch him…but it wasn’t exactly sexual.
Minutes slid by, one into the other. Still, Jack did nothing more than kiss her, sweep his palms across her cheek, her shoulder. The want inside her began to build to a soft crescendo. Something in her demanded more. Again, she took it.
Nudging Jack to her side, Morgan nipped her way down his jaw, then pulled away to tug at the belt of his knit robe. She parted the gray jersey material parted. It landed in a heap on the floor.
Beneath, she wore the naughty bloodred lingerie with cutouts that revealed both her nipples and sex. What would Jack think?
A mental image of his growl of lust fired her. She pictured his fierce need overtaking him, compelling him to pin her down, clutch her thighs, spread her open as he thrust his way deep inside her with a lot of passion and very little mercy…
No! No, they were here for traditional sex.
Shaken by her wayward thoughts, she sent him an uncertain glance. Jack sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes heated from a warm hearth fire to a toasty bonfire.
“You’re beautiful, cher.” He caressed the slope of her breast with the back of his fingers, toying with the lace around the bra’s cutouts, skirting around her nipple.
“Do you like it?”
“Very much.” He leaned in to drop one sweet kiss on her shoulder.
Morgan frowned. “You’re not touching me.”
Jack knew what she wanted. He had to. The ability to read her body was one reason she found him virtually irresistible. Besides the fact that he was brave, could be charming, daring, funny, or tender. But he always knew just how to turn her on.
“How would you like me to touch you?”
“Don’t play games,” she bit out.
“Never. I want your happiness. I’m trying to make sure you get the experience you need.”
“Just…touch me. Make love to me. You understand that.”
He grinned. “My understanding and yours are different. I’m in somewhat unfamiliar territory. I haven’t done…traditional,” he said, using her word, “in years. And never with you. You’ll have to help me out.”
Morgan crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re being uncooperative.”
“I’m deferring to your wishes.” Annoyance tinged his voice. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do my best.”
“Touch my body, kiss me—anything you’d normally do without ropes or demands or pain.”
Jack looked up at the ceiling, appearing to ponder her words. “That gives me a range of activities to choose from. I’ll try.”
Mollified by his seeming willingness, Morgan leaned forward and peeled off Jack’s shirt, revealing the hard slabs of his pectorals and the firm ridges of his washboard abs sheathed in soft, golden brown skin. Unable to resist, she sucked his flat male nipple into her mouth. She laved it with her tongue, pulled past her lips to nip at it with her teeth.
He sucked in a sudden breath, and she smiled to see the erection beneath his jeans take shape again. But as she backed away to gauge his reaction, he merely stared at her with a heated question.
“Doing something like that to me would be great,” she said, trying to answer.
Nodding, Jack reached out and plucked her nipple with his thumb and finger. Gentle swirls of sensation made their way from her breast to her abdomen. When he repeated the process with her other breast, he garnered the same results.
Standing hard now, the nubs of her breasts demanded attention.
“Jack…” she entreated.
Without a word, he closed his mouth around one nipple, circled it with his tongue, sucked the bead past his lips…then released it. Again, he did the same to her other breast. Sensation began to tighten inside her. Yes, she wanted. Jack made her want—like crazy usually.
This wasn’t usual. It was…slow. But slow was good. Long rampup to an excellent climax, right? A little delayed gratification.
Except it felt isolating since he wasn’t talking to her.
Frowning, she placed more kisses down the line bisecting his amazing abs and headed straight for his fly. He made no sound, neither moan nor protest, when she eased his zipper down and slipped his jeans off his hips and onto the floor.
Morgan moaned. He looked unbelievable naked—a sex god come to life, just for her.
Once she’d divested him of his clothes, Jack did the same for her, easing the bra straps off her shoulders, then unclasping the garment at the back. He planted tiny, hungry kisses on her belly as he pulled her crotchless panties off her body and tossed them across the room.
Finally, they were both gloriously naked. Now the real pleasure would begin.