Page 66 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

His answering kiss wasn’t slow and sweet. There were no soft brushes and little nips. He devoured her, a starving man savoring his last meal. No, not last. The first in a long while. The first of many, hopefully. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair, dragged her fingernails along his scalp, eliciting a delicious moan from him. She tried to show him how sorry she was, that abusing his trust was the worst thing she’d ever done. Their tongues danced, his lips forceful and skilled. Every sensation heightened until a shiver wracked her body.

He scooped her up, one arm under her legs and one behind her back, cradling her to his chest like she was a precious thing. His long strides moved them toward his bedroom, the heavy thud of his heart beating against her. She nosed his neck, kissed the vein running its length. She bit his collarbone. A deeply male sound rumbled from him.

She hadn’t seen his bedroom during her last visit. Not while she’d been busy gawking at his reptile shelter. The space was sensual yet masculine, decorated with grays and charcoals and warm browns. Large and elegant. Perfectly Jack.

He laid her on the bed, then stood and consumed her with nothing but his heavy-lidded eyes. “Mine,” he murmured.

Yes. His. She only wanted to be his. As long as he was hers.

His dark hair was messy from her busy fingers, his neck red from her teeth and lips. It wasn’t enough. She needed to see him naked, to touch every inch of his body. She scrambled off the bed and lunged for him. Smirking, he caught her and slowed her progress, his hands moving possessively, squeezing and tugging. He trailed wet kisses along her ear and neck. More dampness. More belly-curling need.

“Your clothes,” she said. “Off now.” Sentences eluded her.

“Gonna feast on you,” he gritted out.

He tugged down his tie and yanked it off. Desperate, she fumbled with his shirt buttons, while he wrestled himself from his gold jacket and removed his socks and blue suede shoes. His black slacks hit the floor in a rush, then she was on her knees, fingers clawing at his black briefs, her breaths short and sharp.

He stilled her hands. “Stop and stand.”

Her core clenched at his dominance. Shy Jack had left the building, and she liked it. “But I need these off.”

“They will be off, but I’m going to strip you nice and slow. Take my time with you.”

Said the man previously known as One-Second Jack. She eyed the bulge in his briefs and licked her parched lips. “Slow can wait. I need you hard and fast.”

He released a satisfying grunt. “We do this my way. And I want slow.”

He yanked her up and stepped out of grabbing distance, then dropped his briefs, not a bashful bone in his toned body. Proof of his desire sprang free, rigid flesh that made her ache and squirm. Her eyes gobbled up his wide shoulders and defined chest, the smattering of dark hairs that curled over his olive skin. Ridged abs led her gaze down to his hip bones and all that male perfection standing at attention for her. His strong thighs tensed.

“You’re beautiful,” she said. Words for a woman, maybe, but handsome wasn’t enough for Jack. Beautiful was bigger. Beautiful was inside and out. “But you’re too far away.”

She was on fire. She wanted him in her mouth, filling her body. She pressed her thighs together, but it didn’t help. This was new for her, being the one clothed, the man before her baring himself. The men she’d been with had been quick to remove her shirt and bra, work their hands into her underwear. Jack was offering her something different, like when sharing his awful teen story, giving a piece of himself first so she’d feel comfortable doing the same.

A knot formed in her throat.

He stroked himself once, roughly, his eyes so intent she felt naked, too. “Don’t touch me,” he said. A command.

Then he was on her, his mouth and hands caressing as he lifted her arms and removed shirt. Her bra landed on the floor. He kneaded her breasts, his knuckles skimming her inner thighs as her shorts and thong dropped. His hot breath puckered her nipples as he explored her body.

Don’t touch. Don’t touch. She fisted her hands.

Not touching him was the hardest thing she’d ever done, and he was everywhere, gliding along her skin, his teeth on her hips, his fingers caressing her backside, dipping into her crease, teasing, teasing, teasing.

“Get on the bed, on your knees. Face the headboard and wait.”

She was dizzy with desire, her body a live wire primed to spark at the faintest touch. She knew sex with Jack would be life altering. She hadn’t been prepared for his electrifying control. “Are you always this demanding in bed?”

“Yes.”

Tami’s gossip hadn’t done him justice.

Trembling, she crawled onto his bed, lifted up to her knees, and waited. Her body throbbed, cold and warm at once. What was taking him so long?

The bed finally dipped and Jack’s body fitted behind hers as he tossed a condom beside them. His length nestled against her, hot and hard and silky. She wiggled to feel more, but he held her firm…and explored. One hand massaged her breast, the other gliding to the apex of her thighs. He cupped her, spread her wetness around while pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive parts of her neck. She bucked. Couldn’t control herself. He was behind her, but she was utterly open to him. Vulnerable. He rutted against her back while murmuring throaty endearments.

Mine. Gorgeous. Perfect.

And his fingers. They filled her and rocked, his thumb pressing and rubbing just right. She had never been so wet, so ready, so under someone else’s control. “Don’t stop, Jack. It’s so good. I’m so close.”