He considered her thoughtfully. Starting a food fight wasn’t what he wanted to do. Not even close. What he wanted to do was dive across the table and kiss the smirk right off her face. Yes, that would work well for him. Kiss her until she moaned and melted into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He wanted that shapeless abaya on the floor, wanted his hands on her body, wanted their bodies joined together in a blistering hot union that would leave them both panting and drained.
“Hello?” She waved a hand between them. “Where’d you go?”
He focused on her. The lips he’d been fantasizing about closed over a morsel of cake and he narrowed his eyes as she stopped chewing, then met her startled gaze with his heated one. He was afraid she might turn timid again and blush. But her expression grew speculative and her lips curved upward. She wasn’t backing down an inch. His fantasy just got hotter.
“You done eating?” he asked.
“Almost.” She lifted her spoon and gave it a long, deliberate lick.
His eyebrow may have twitched. He didn’t smile. If she thought he was playing around, she’d better think again. He wasn’t considering chasing her home for some tickling and polite sex. What he was considering required full nudity, long, torturous minutes of licking and sucking and rubbing, followed by some hard thrusting and guttural crying out. They might have hours to kill before someone made a move for that vase, and he didn’t intend to spend it reading a book.
Her eyelids closed slightly, and she bit her lip. Oh yeah, Jess knew exactly what he was thinking.
Whatever moral fabric had held him back from making a move on his friend’s daughter seemed to have shredded irreparably. He still wasn’t the kind of guy Wally had wanted her to get involved with. But hell, he wasn’t thinking about a relationship, he was thinking about satisfying a raging lust that had his mind spinning and his dick as hard as a steel rod. She’d already claimed pretty much the same thing, back when he’d first kissed her in Chicago. No marriage proposal, she’d said, just let her fuck his brains out. Hell, yeah.
Damn it, Wally, what did you expect? It wasn’t just that Jess was prettier than any daughter of his had a right to be. She was also smart and determined and above all, brave. He’d gradually realized how hard it was for her to do what they’d demanded, but instead of curling up in a whimpering ball as her mother had done when faced with far less, she made herself face her fears and do what scared her most. That was the definition of bravery in his book. It was nothing for him to fly to Egypt and walk the streets, seeking out some truly bad guys so he could take them down. He was trained for stuff like that. But she wasn’t, and she’d done it anyway. And more—she’d performed emergency first aid and done it in a style he’d never forget.
He respected and admired her. No problem there—Wally would approve.
He also wanted her, badly. Her combination of looks, brains, and courage went straight past admiration and stirred up every sexual impulse he’d ever had. He couldn’t wait to experience her unforgettable promise.
This time, respect for his friend and mentor’s advice wasn’t going to be enough to stop him.
…
Jess wasn’t naive. She knew what Donovan expected, and had every intention of giving it to him. She liked sex. She liked having orgasms. She just hadn’t figured out how to put the two of them together successfully.
Seeking help for her problem had been an act of desperation. It had been embarrassing to admit such a personal thing to a stranger, even if he was a therapist. But she didn’t want to go through life without ever knowing what it felt like to come apart in some man’s arms. To shudder and go limp and be thoroughly satisfied. People in books did it and people on TV and so did her friends, if she could believe them. All she wanted was to share that lovely, fulfilling release with a man rather than a plastic sex toy.
Dr. Epstein had proved to be wonderfully sensitive, assuring her that her problem was not that uncommon. He’d even pointed out a logical reason for it, once she’d told him about her parent’s divorce and being abandoned by her father. It made so much sense to see that she had a fear of opening herself up to more rejection and hurt from a man. She held back, even while appearing to give everything, never allowing herself to be utterly vulnerable. She just couldn’t let go for that final surrender, he said.
The few men she’d gotten serious with had always been sensible, considerate partners, men who appreciated safety over recklessness and careful planning over impulsive decisions. Good men, but as Dr. Epstein pointed out, obviously not sensitive enough to her sexual needs to bring her to a climax. But there was an easy solution, he’d said. What she needed was to feel totally secure and safe with a man so she could relax and let go. She needed a man who would never rush her, never put his enjoyment ahead of hers, and make sure she was ready for whatever he did before he did it. To ask permission, rather than rudely taking and thereby breaking her trust. She needed a considerate, gentle, nonthreatening partner.