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“Beautiful, you are so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin. “Twice might not be enough.”
She closed her eyes. The hot slide of his tongue against her made her whimper. And he did it again and again, varying the pressure and rhythm, asking her how she liked it. She gave him rational, honest responses at first. And then she started shaking and needing something more and she begged him to shut up.
His soft laughter flickered across the sensitive skin of her thighs. The smooth slide of his finger as he eased it inside her tore a moan from her throat. Then he brought his tongue back into play and the world went a hazy gray. This, she realized instinctively, was what she needed.
“Bailey,” he murmured, “baby. Give it up.”
She arched her hips and clutched the fabric of the sofa as he increased his rhythm. She begged and he gave no quarter, adding another finger, increasing the intensity until she went over the edge, her palm against her mouth the only thing preventing her scream from tearing into the night.
When her body had stopped shaking like a leaf, her brain started to function again.
So that was what all the fuss was about.
Jared leaned forward and smoothed her hair back from her face. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” OMG had she just said that out loud?
He gave her a curious look, then a slow smile curved his lips as he rose to his feet, worked his palms beneath her and swung her up in his arms. “That was one.”
Bailey’s heart pounded with every step he took toward the gorgeous turquoise-blue bedroom. She had to tell him. Now.
“Jared.” She poked a finger into his shoulder. “Stop for a second. I need to tell you something.”
He halted midstride, his gaze flicking to her face. “What?”
Color rushed to her cheeks, rendering them a red-hot mess. “I’ve never—I mean you should know that I am a—”
The words died in her throat as he went as gray as she was red.
“You are goddamn joking.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE LOOK ON Bailey’s face sent a cold rush through Jared, like the mistral gone awry right up the center of him. He dropped her to the floor so fast she didn’t have time to brace herself, and his hands at her waist were the only thing that held her up.
“Tell me you’re joking,” he repeated harshly.
She pushed a hand against his chest and stood back, her chin lifting to a defiant angle. “What’s the big deal?”
His eyes rounded. “You’re a twenty-nine-year-old, former stripper, virgin?”
Her face went even hotter. “Are you going to tag that description on every time you talk about me now? Because I’m afraid that doesn’t work for me.”
He closed his eyes and raked his hair back from his face. “I don’t understand how this could happen.”
Her mouth flattened. “Simple. I haven’t gotten into bed with a man. Not that you’d understand anything about that. Half the women in the Valley are walking around with your cute little diamond charm bracelets on as if they were the Medal of Honor.”
He let out a harsh breath and opened his eyes. “It was the combination of your age and background, Bailey. You haven’t exactly been living in a nunnery.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. “What were you hoping? That I’d have all sorts of tricks up my sleeve, living the life?”
His gaze narrowed. “I wasn’t actually thinking, Bailey. As you can imagine after what just happened.”
Taking her to bed and having her until sunrise had been the only thing in his head…no thinking involved there.
His mouth twisted in a scowl. Not happening now, that was for sure. Virgins wanted rings on their fingers. Assurances of undying love. That part of his manifesto hadn’t been wrong.
“Why?” His frustrated, sexually aroused body wanted to know. “Why would you be twenty-nine and a virgin?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I dunno, Jared. I’d have to be a psychologist to say.” His scowl grew as she tossed his words back at him. “I didn’t date in Vegas. The men who asked me out were only after one thing, given my profession. They didn’t exactly want to court me. Then when I came to the Valley I was just too busy working.”
“And your father,” he pointed out. “He can’t have given you a very good picture of men to work with.”
No. He’d broken her heart. Her mother’s heart. All of their hearts again and again to match his own broken one. Twenty years of wanting to be the hero you once were.
She brushed her hair out of her face. “I’m sure that had something to do with it.”
He frowned. “I don’t buy that you were too busy to date in the Valley. I’ve seen the men pursue you.”
“Because I’m a challenge,” she pointed out. “You think I don’t know what they say about me? The wagers they make? The minute I go to bed with one of them it’s going to be all over the airwaves faster than your manifesto.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather not bother.”
“So what was that?” He jerked his head toward the sofa. “You were all in there, Bailey.”
“Stupid me.” She rolled her eyes. “We do have this chemistry, you and I. And for one second, five minutes,” she amended sarcastically, “I was doing what I wanted. I wasn’t holding back.”
His heart stuttered. The urge to pick her up, walk into that bedroom and finish what they’d started made him shove his hands in his pockets. Because while he liked Bailey, might even be fond of her, despite the fact that he wanted to take her to bed more than he’d ever wanted a woman in his life, he didn’t do the big V. Wasn’t capable of it. It would be like asking him to vote Republican. To suggest he leave a big messy pile in the middle of his impeccably clean desk.
Clean desk, clean mind, his Zen master had told him on that thirty-day search to find his soul. If he slept with Bailey, there might never be enough meditation for that.
He lifted his gaze to her rather glazed one, resolute despite his screaming body. “I just have one question for you.”
She gave him a wary look. “What?”
“Don’t you ever get…frustrated?”
Her eyes darkened. “Get out of my room, Jared.”
* * *
How were you supposed to greet the day when you’d just spent the night before getting down and dirty with your boss? It wasn’t a particular skill Bailey had arrived in France with, and the thought of facing him across a plate of croissants while she remembered him on his knees between her thighs, devouring her, wasn’t going to fly.
She yanked a pillow over her face and lay back in the big king-size bed. Her only saving grace was she hadn’t screamed out loud. But even that was tempered by the fact that her moans of approval had been loud and clear. And if he’d taken her to bed, she would have let him take her virginity. She would have let Jared Stone take her virginity. Because for a moment there, she’d thought she’d seen the real Jared. The man behind the manifesto. The man who thought enough of her that he was backing her when he shouldn’t be…
Who had called her the smartest marketing person he’d ever worked with.
I’ve never respected a woman more in my life. For who you are. For what you’ve done.
Ugh. She pressed the pillow harder against her face. Had he just been trying to get her into bed? Had he been intrigued by her past and wondering how hot she was? How skilled? But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t right. Jared was risking too much standing behind her to just be out for sex. His Achilles’ heel was his utter and complete inability to commit. This was right within character. A virgin must be an intensely scary, disconcerting phenomenon to him. What had she expected him to do?
She threw the pillow off, fury at herself coursing through her. He might respect her even after all she’d told him, but he was still Jared—a man no female should get anywhere near unless she was as shallow as he was when it came to the art of the casual hookup.
It made her wonder about the rest of the manifesto she hadn’t read…
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, padded into the lounge and woke up her computer. Gave the scattered sofa pillows a grimace. His manifesto now had five million views. She typed in the word virgin and pressed Find. And there it was. Bolded.
Never, ever take a virgin home with you unless you’re prepared to open up the homestead to her. Lock, stock and barrel. There is no “see how it goes” with a virgin. I’ve seen better men than me crash and burn. Hard.
Her vision misted over. What was wrong with her? When had she forgotten exactly who Jared was? About the same time he had kissed her brain into some sort of ancient and useless artifact. Because let’s face it. Some women would trade their self-respect for that skill in the bedroom.
If she’d kept her mouth shut last night, she would have.
She got to her feet with a jerky movement, strode into the bathroom and pushed her obviously cloudy head under the hot spray of the shower. She was going to pretend last night had never happened. Appreciate what Jared was doing for her because he was risking a great deal by keeping her in this pitch, she knew that. And she was going to win it for him. Then she was going to get far away from Jared Stone while she still had her wits about her.
