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Jack closed the door and opened the back to get my bag. As he slid his hand along my waist, he murmured, “Even in this shitty light, you’re lovely.”
“You stole my thunder, you bastard.”
Laughing, he guided me to the door leading into his house. My first impression was of an immaculate kitchen fit for a chef and he placed my bag on a barstool. He shrugged off his jacket and removed his tie, tossing them there as well.
He kept his hand at my waist as he opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of one of my favorite champagnes.
Glancing at me, he murmured, “I need to open this but I don’t want to take my hands off you.”
Reaching up, I cupped his face with one hand and raked my fingers through his hair with the other. It felt amazing to touch him. He closed his eyes and leaned into it.
The bottle clinked against the countertop and he pressed me against the wall beside the fridge.
His mouth descended on mine with a low growl, his hands roamed over me, and threw my body into chaos.
What the fuck was my name?
Moving to my jaw and down my neck, his grip tightened on my back and ass. I felt light-headed.
“Pardon me but…fuck the champagne. All I care about is stripping you naked and having you spread-eagled on my bed.”
I released a gut-wrenching moan but he was already moving us out of the kitchen.I got afleeting impression of open space, hardwood floors, a dimly lit living room, and framed photographs on custom-painted walls I knew I’d want to examine more closely later.
A grand tour wasn’t on the agenda and Jack let me go long enough to take my hand again and pull me up the stairs.
At the top, he wrapped his arm around my waist and murmured, “I’ll show you around later. I swear it, Petra.”
I glimpsed what looked to be an office to the right. A spare bedroom on the left. He walked briskly down the hall to double doors and pushed them wide.
Jack’s bedroom was a massive space filled with bright white and shades of blue. Recessed lighting lent a warm glow. Picking up a remote, soft instrumental music drifted on the air.
Pivoting in front of me, Jack took my face in his hands. His gaze was intense. I could feel him trembling where we touched.
It was a reaction I’d never inspired in a man before.
“Should I perform badly the first time due to an over-abundance of enthusiasm, try to keep me anonymous when you post about it on Facebook.”
I laughed and he arched his brow.
“Barring that, mention that though I have the endurance of a fourteen-year-old with aHustlerspread in front of him – plenty of tissues and lotion on hand – I’m hung like a horse.”
“Agreed,” I said seriously. “Ibetternot have to lie.”
His laughter filled me up as he spun me around and held my back to his chest. He trailed his finger over the top edge of my bodice.
“I wanted to get you out of this dress the moment I laid eyes on you, Petra.”
“Well,naturally. It’s hideous,” I quipped.
He lowered his mouth to my ear and nipped it lightly. “No. That wasn’t why.”
Strong fingers massaged my shoulders and the back of my neck. There was no way to hide my natural tension.
“You’re nervous.”
It wasn’t a question but I answered it anyway. “A bit. This isn’t…usual for me. Completely out of character, in fact.”
His fingers stroked my jaw, turning my face up and back so he could stare into my eyes. The silence drew out.
