Her Secret Thrill(19)

She settled heavily against him as she fell more deeply asleep. He felt that queer dip in his stomach as he gave in to the need to look down at her. Yeah, she was something else in bed, no doubt about that. He pushed a few damp strands of hair from her cheek. But he wasn’t thinking about that at the moment. He kept seeing her, cheeks blooming, when she thought she was being overheard talking to him about sex in the museum. Not that she had any problem talking directly, and quite boldly for that matter. But it tugged at him that for all that she was bold and smart and not afraid to show it…when it came to some things, she was very private and a little shy. And though he liked to push her, he honestly didn’t want to change that.

As long as she wasn’t shy with him.

And then there was the way she’d gone about choosing what they’d do today. She didn’t know him, not really. And yet, she did. She saw things in him others didn’t. Certainly none of his associates or friends ever would have looked at him and thought, “Hey, bet ol’ Jake would like to hit the local art museum.” But she had.

Perhaps it was because she didn’t know him in a professional or family capacity, leaving her free to get to know the real him, with no other knowledge coloring her perceptions.

Whatever the case, she’d deliberately chosen the exhibit today because she thought it would move him…and because she’d enjoy giving him that. And she had enjoyed it. Even when he’d been bowled over by the exquisite detail of the artwork, he’d felt her eyes on him. Him. As if he were as fascinating to her as the piece was to him.

He felt almost…awed by the pleasure she took in giving him pleasure. What was really startling was that, rather than feel tied down or fenced in, he wanted to do the same for her. It made him feel incredible to give her pleasure, in ways that had nothing to do with sexual gratification. Maybe too incredible. Maybe that was why he pushed her, teased her, when they were in bed together. To keep it a game, something they were doing for kicks.

Rather than something he was doing because he was falling in love with her.

You don’t know her, he argued. But he did. And not because he’d dug up stuff about her family. He knew her. Maybe not her favorite color or favorite food. But he knew she was sharp and funny and endearingly shy. He knew she could give as good as she got, that she was competitive with herself but not necessarily with others. She expected the best from herself and was frustrated when she couldn’t live up to her own expectations. Which might explain why she’d pursued her own path in life, rather than take the predetermined family path.

He wanted to ask her about that. To find out what made her happy, what made her sad. He wanted to know what her favorite color was and if she left the cap off the toothpaste and every other little thing.

Yeah, he was in big trouble.

He must have drifted, because when he looked at the clock again, an hour had disappeared. Natalie was still snuggled next to him. He hated to wake her. It made him wonder what it would be like to wake her up every day.

Apparently his little nap hadn’t restored common sense.

When she turned her head to nuzzle his chest, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, then her temple. For such a small action, the pleasure that rippled over him was intense. He really had to get out of this bed. Maybe fresh air would clear this fog from his brain.

And his heart.

He jiggled her arm. “Natalie. Time to get up.”

She only snuggled more deeply.

He sighed. Mostly because he liked it. And he probably shouldn’t. Not that much, anyway.

“Time to get up. Plane to catch,” he said softly.

She mumbled something, then tucked her hand beneath her face, her lips parting on a sigh.

If he could have, he’d have made a call and changed her flight to a later one so she could sleep. Tomorrow maybe. Or never. But he had work to do, as well. Dammit.

Well, he knew one sure way to wake her up.

He started by tracing his fingertips down the gentle slope of her back. She arched into him, and he stirred against her. He shifted forward, rolling her to her back. She moaned and arched again as he closed his mouth over the tip of her breast. So damn responsive.

“Jake,” she whispered roughly.

“Mmm.”

She gripped his head when he would have lifted it. He gladly complied with her wishes. He slid his hand down over her stomach and found her wet and waiting for him.

If this is how she woke up every morning, maybe making a commitment wasn’t such a scary thing. For the first time, he questioned his all-work lifestyle. But that thought, along with every other one he might have had, vanished when she pushed him on his back and climbed on top of him.



NATALIE ALMOST MISSED her plane. She strapped herself in and leaned her head back. She should feel harried and frustrated. She hated rushing, hated not having every detail taken care of so things ran smoothly. Which didn’t explain the smile she couldn’t seem to wipe from her face.

Jake had surprised her by asking to accompany her to the airport. He’d claimed that it had been his fault for initiating their last little activity and that getting her safely on her way was the least he could do.

But Natalie hadn’t been so sure. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something seemed to have changed between them.

Just because you want it to doesn’t mean it did, she told herself. Jake might be an exuberant lover in bed, but he was also a gentlemen. He always held doors for her and put her first. Even with orgasms, she thought, suppressing a very un-Natalie-like giggle. There was something to be said for good manners, she decided.

Not that she wasn’t perfectly capable of opening her own doors, and she certainly had no problem with seeing to his pleasure—in bed or out—before seeing to her own, but she definitely wasn’t going to complain if he wanted to take turns at it.

Thinking about pleasure brought her thoughts back to their museum trip earlier today. He’d said his ancestors had settled in the West over a hundred years ago. Her ancestors had come over on the Mayflower. Only, he was more involved in his current family than she was. She knew he worked for the family cattle business, but nothing more. It was odd that she felt as if she knew him so well when, technically, she really didn’t know much about him at all.

But it went beyond facts and figures. Even after such a short time together, she could read his moods, sense when he was teasing and know almost before he did when he was going to turn serious. But that didn’t mean he was the kind of man she could live with or even want to spend a significant amount of time with. Sure, he was charming and wonderful when they were together. Wasn’t that the whole point? That they share the best of themselves and leave all the reality dreck outside the hotel door?

Hotels. That was another thing. She was already counting the hours until they saw each other again. New Orleans. A shiver of delight raced through her. One of the most decadent cities in the country. And it was his turn to plan.

But she didn’t want another hotel room. She couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t that it made her feel tawdry or anything. It was hard to feel tawdry in a five-star hotel. But she wanted something more…personal.

Dangerous wish there, Nat.

She wondered what his home looked like, wondered if he’d like her loft in the city. She imagined what it would be like to see him sprawled on her sheets, sleep on the pillow he’d slept on, smell his scent on her towels.

God, she was becoming obsessed.

Which was exactly why she’d turned down Jake’s offer to take her to the airport. She needed to get her head back on straight about just what the two of them were doing together. Lingering kisses at the gate were only going to further cloud her already cloudy mind. She was already reading things into his every look that probably meant nothing more than that he was having a good time. And why wouldn’t he be? But it didn’t mean anything else. Did it?

Nothing else had changed. He was still a workaholic dedicated to his career, as was she. Even if they both wanted to take this relationship to a more serious level, how would that work?

She knew the answer to that. It wouldn’t work. If she wanted to see him at all, she’d have to suffer with the rules they’d set up. But could she? Could she handle her growing feelings? And when it inevitably came to an end, would she wish she’d ended it sooner, before her heart got any more involved?

Because it was definitely involved.

She sighed and looked out the window as the plane took off from O’Hare. She had three weeks until New Orleans. The work she’d done in Chicago wasn’t her best, even though she’d gotten the job done. If she was going to stay on the upwardly mobile track at work, she’d damn well better find a way to keep her mind focused on work, and off Jake.

He’d be in New Orleans. They’d have fun. Nothing more than that, and no reason to look forward to it any more than she would a party with Liza, or a work-free weekend. No reason to let thoughts of him interfere with her career. After all, that was exactly why they’d made up the stupid rules in the first place.

She relaxed as the plane reached cruising altitude, and started drifting to sleep. Only, she didn’t dream about making partner before she hit thirty-five. She didn’t dream of the corner office with the view or finally proving to her family that she was perfectly capable of making her own dreams come true.