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He blinked, the heat banked for just a second. “Mia,” he whispered, as if asking permission, and her breath clogged hard in her throat.
She hated her breasts. Heavy and full. Painful at the end of the day and they always, always attracted too much attention.
But right now, Jack’s hand trembling against her shoulder, she saw the upside.
She pushed herself away from him and when he moved to sit up, as if the night were over, she pushed him back down.
“Get comfortable,” she said, and that smile slid back onto his lips. Confident and sexy, he lay on his back, tucking his hands behind his head. Waiting for her to make the next move.
Lifting her skirt up nearly to her waist, she straddled his hips, notched herself against the ridge under his fly and they both groaned, twitching hard against each other.
He lifted his hands to her waist, dragging her slowly up and down his erection. Oh, it was so good. So perfect and delicious. The tension in her belly got hotter, harder.
Not yet, she thought. She wanted this tension to last all night. All night for the rest of her life. She pushed away his hands and shook back her hair, feeling powerful and womanly. Alive in all the very best ways.
And Jack, sweet Jack, just like when they were kids, he kept his eyes glued to her face, as if looking at her breasts or body would be disrespectful. She lifted her hands to her dress and eased the straps off her shoulders.
Jack swallowed, the smile gone, his lips parting, his eyes wide in wonder.
She reached behind and undid her bra, very aware of the bright moonlight. Of the fact that this was Jack between her legs. Her husband. A man who’d married her and then walked away as if she and everything she loved were nothing. He’d spent the last five years being pursued by deans’ wives and probably gorgeous tribal women and foreign professors with giant brains and reasonable chests.
Self-consciousness crept in where she didn’t want it.
“You’re beautiful,” Jack said, snapping her attention away from her own head games. His eyes were serious. His face—the face of her best friend—earnest. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, I need to tell you that I have never seen anything in the world as beautiful as you.”
True or not, line or not, it was exactly what she needed to hear.
She dropped her dress and the bra and felt the warm breeze, the starlight, Jack’s gaze across her pale skin. Her nipples hardened in a painful cold rush.
“Oh Mia,” he groaned, sitting up, folding her in his arms, his hands cupping her breasts, his fingers reverent, his eyes aglow. He kissed the trembling skin under her collarbones and worked, in some sort of bizarre migratory pattern, south.
Her skin blazed, every inch of her alive and thrumming with pleasure so bright and hot it almost hurt. His mouth was wet against her skin and all she could think was, This is Jack. Jack’s mouth on my breast. His hand in my hair. His breath against my skin.
His arms cupped her hips, his fingertips curving around her to find the damp crease that wept at his touch. She arched and he tipped them over, picking her up and shifting her into the center of the chaise. A moan rippled out of her, she was so turned on by all that overt strength.
He leaned over her, huge and manly, his hands cupping her breasts, pushing them together. He pressed hot, openmouthed kisses against them.
“I used to dream about you like this,” he said and chuckled against her nipple. “A lot, actually.”
She arched her back so her nipples brushed his lips. He licked and used the sharp edge of his teeth against them. She groaned, rolling into him, seeking every pleasure point she could find, every point of friction between her body and his.
“Couldn’t have been any more than I thought of you like this,” she whispered.
“You’re kidding,” he said, stopping.
She shook her head. There was nothing she could say.
I’ve loved you my whole life, she thought.
”Jack,” she sighed. “Please—”
His eyes burned in the darkness as he hovered over her body. And for a moment she thought she saw him realize her inexperience, but then he blinked and his hands crowded her close.
And suddenly it all changed. The banked fires under her skin blazed out of control, the hum in her blood turned into a roar. The gentle press of his lips turned firm, hard. His lips didn’t kiss, they sucked, and his teeth bit and she groaned, pushing and pulling him closer to her.
He yanked at her dress, pulling it off her legs. His fingers found the edge of one of the ridiculous thongs her sister bought for her every birthday and he traced its edge as far as it would go and then back again.
