Goes down easy(17)

Sometime during the night, he’d managed to lose his boxers. His skin was warm, the muscles in his hips well-defined. She swirled her fingers there, where he’d left them, finally discovering the knot of puckered flesh that could only be one thing.

Her heart raced. “A gunshot?”

He nodded. “Chechnya. Uh, ’96? The one on my knee came from the Sudan, the year before.”

But that was all he said. She sat up, found the gash on his knee, never asking a thing about what he’d been doing in all those places. The damage to his body told her the truth.

Jack Montgomery was a dangerous man. He’d done things, seen things, traveled to places she’d only read about.

Yet here he was, naked and open, and giving without expecting to receive in return. She didn’t understand what seemed to be a contradiction. She didn’t understand this man, not at all.

She slid her fingers from his knee up his thigh to his hip, the edge of her hand brushing his groin. He sucked in a sharp fizz of breath.

“That thing you promised last night?” he reminded her. “About sitting in my lap?”

She started to nod, found herself frozen.

“This would be a really good time.”

She closed her eyes, screwed up her courage, told herself that he wasn’t here to hurt her, knowing that if it happened then this was the path she had chosen to take. She leaned forward to kiss him just beneath his heart.

He smelled wonderful, and tasted so good she couldn’t help it. She eased lower, feeling his erection bob against her chest as she climbed up and straddled his legs. Once there, she inched lower and took him into her mouth.

He arched up, groaned, held her shoulders while she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and plied her tongue over and around the ripe head of his cock.

She toyed with the slit in the tip, licked her way along the seam beneath, circled the ridge above the ring of her fingers where she held the top of his shaft. He was smooth and salty, and she loved the sounds he made, the deep throaty moans and primal growls.

But then he stopped her, lifting her away, reaching for a condom and putting it on. Then he dragged her up his body so that his sheathed erection throbbed between them, before he kissed her full on the mouth. He gripped her bottom, kneed apart her legs, pushed her up and positioned himself to thrust.

Before he did, however, he paused, pulling free from her mouth to tell her, “As much as I love you having your way, that tongue of yours was about to do me in, and I’d really like this to last more than ten seconds.”

She smiled. She couldn’t help it. He was so cute and so miserable all at the same time. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not exactly a paragon of patience.”

“So I noticed last night.”

He was being such a good sport that she didn’t take offense. What she did was plant her hands on his chest and push upright, lowering herself slowly as his cock slid deep and pulsed inside her, as she clenched and squeezed.

For several seconds, she sat there, breathing hard, searching for her control and trying to ignore the way he filled her. An impossible task, of course, and so she began to move.

She dug the heels of her palms into his shoulders, pushing down as she rotated her hips. He held her there, just above her thighs, his fingers digging in as he thrust up to meet her downward strokes.

She laughed. This was breathtaking, being with him, being filled by him. She didn’t think she’d ever had it so good; making love meant so much more than just having sex.

“What’s so funny?” he fairly growled, grabbing her harder.

“Not funny. Glorious. You feel so amazing.” He surged up, captured her nipple and sucked. She hissed back a breath. “And that feels like I’m not going to last.”

He let her go and growled, saying, “Good. Because I’m right there with you.”

She felt him heat, felt the tightening between her legs, felt the surge of sensation spiraling. She gave in, came apart, cried out as she shuddered, as even her shoulders shook.

He waited until she was done, but just barely. He drove deep, thrust hard; she fell forward onto his chest and rode the wave.

Afterward, he held her close, eventually rolling them both to the side. She needed to get up. She didn’t want to get up. With his arms wrapped around her, their bodies still joined, she didn’t want to move at all.

She didn’t want anything to break the spell of this magic that felt like the heaven of forever.





HAVING HER WAY nearly killed him. Either Jack was more exhausted than even he had realized, or Perry knew every trick in the book about draining him dry. She’d left him five minutes ago, groaning as she climbed from the bed, mumbling something about getting ready for work.

He needed to do the same. To steam the sludge from his brain. To put a call into Cindy Eckhardt and ask her if she was familiar with Dawn Taylor. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a start.

He swung up into a sitting position and scrubbed his hands over his face. He pushed to his feet, stumbled over his own freaking shoes, shirt and pants as he headed for the bathroom—and toward the woman who’d just upended his life.

Best he could tell by the morning light sneaking in through Perry’s drapes, her bedroom was the same riot of colors and clutter as the living room, dining room and kitchen. And when he pushed open the bathroom door, he got hit with more of the same.

Red and yellow wall tiles, candles, flooring and towels. The space was small and steamy, and it smelled like spices that had nothing to do with a restaurant kitchen or holiday baking, and everything to do with a palace harem in Istanbul. Spices that were heavy and rich, and put him in mind of sex.

Not that his mind had been anywhere else for hours, but he wondered if she chose the scents she did—the candles, the soap, the shampoo—because it put her in mind of the same. Or if it was more a case of her not having a subtle bone in her body.

The colors, the fabrics, the scents, even the earrings she wore, and the way she kissed, and her wild cloud of hair. All of it was big and vibrant and involved, and got his juices flowing.

He shut the door behind him, the sound of the latch clicking loud enough for her to hear above the running water. He didn’t want to frighten her, and an invitation wouldn’t be a bad thing. Who knew what went on with women and their showers?

He’d barely finished the thought when the frosted door slid open on its tracks and there Perry stood, naked and dripping and a contrast in colors. Her hair hung in wet hanks to the tops of her breasts. It was jet black, the same color as her big bright eyes and the thatch of hair between her legs.

Her skin, on the other hand, was lily white, a delicate porcelain pale, the only color that of the dark cherry centers of her breasts. He’d tasted her, made love to her, had her mouth on him, but there was something about seeing her like this that wound him up hot and tight.

He thought about moving, thought about standing where he was and enjoying the view for as long as he could, ended up licking his lips and laughing when Perry rolled her eyes.

“I want to know something,” she said, backing up when he started toward her.

He climbed into the tub, slid the door closed behind him, breathed deeply of the spice and the steam. “What’s that?”

“Well, actually, a couple of things.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and switched their positions so that he stood under the spray. “I can’t answer if you don’t ask.”

She crossed her arms. “The case. What are you going to do next?”

It was hard to take her interest in his business seriously when they were both naked and wet. “More interviews. Friends of the Taylors. I want to find out what the couple was feeling about Dayton Eckhardt before and after the company’s move. Then I’ll talk to ex-employees who worked with Taylor specifically.”

“Okay. Good.” She swiped wet hair out of her eyes. “You’ll let me know what I can do to help?”

Yesterday, she didn’t want a thing to do with him or his case, and now she counted herself involved. He ducked under the spray to wet his hair, sputtered when he came up for air. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” She nodded vigorously as if making sure she had his attention.

“Well, there is one thing…”

“What?”

It was off the cuff, as were many of his best ideas, but he still wasn’t sure he could make it work. “I thought if she’s up to it, I’d like to take your aunt to the old Eckton warehouse. See if she might pick up any vibes.”

Perry stacked her hands behind her on the wall and leaned against them, her expression less curious than it was smug. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”

“About?” he said, reaching for her shower gel and sponge.

“Her gift.”

He shook his head, admitting to nothing, soaping his armpits and his chest. “It’s not that so much as the fact that I’m running low on options.”

“Hmm.” She canted her head to one side. “I thought it might be about what Della saw when she touched you.”

Suds fell from the sponge to his feet. “Who said she saw anything?”

“No one.” She paused, screwed her mouth to one side as if the movement helped her concentrate. “It’s just that I can’t think of any other reason you’d have changed your mind.”