“I hate the way I treated you.” His voice was muffled and raw against her skin. “I’ll regret it until my dying day.”
She knew he could not quite understand why she’d forgiven him. Just as she knew most people would wonder the same. They did not know what she did. Her hand smoothed over his close-cropped hair, so silky yet rough on the upstroke. On the outside Jack Talent was tarnished and battered, but underneath he was sterling. Not even Jack truly understood this. But she would help him see it.
“Hush now,” she whispered. “Be at ease.” Because she knew that he needed the words too. He needed to know he was protected.
For her whole life, she’d thought of men in terms of force. Blunt instruments that asserted their will and strength. Jack was that, more so than most. But she had never truly realized a man’s vulnerability, that a man might need comfort and tenderness. In truth, a man was like crystal, all hard, cool surfaces and solid strength, yet so easily broken if mishandled.
They were twined together, Jack’s thigh between her legs, her arms wrapped about his shoulder and around his waist, his arms doing the same. Though it did not feel sexual, not at that moment. It felt peaceful. And she could not help but think of them as two strings, wound up tight to become rope, and stronger for it.
Because she’d been the one to give comfort, Jack’s head rested on her shoulder, a warm weight there now. Gradually she became aware of each soft breath he took, blooming across her breasts. Her nipples tightened against the tickling caresses, and she arched into the sensation, a small furtive motion that she could not resist.
Awareness shuddered through Jack, obvious in the way his muscles tensed and his breath grew unsteady. Slowly his big, roughened palm skimmed along her hip up to her waist. He held it there, his fingers just stroking, sending little shivers of pleasure through her. Jack’s hand stopped just beneath her breast, his fingers spread to cup her.
They were just her breasts, but when he looked at them, they became something more. Beautiful, erotic. They grew heavy, aching under his gaze, and a languid rush of heat coursed through her, the slick place between her legs clenching with delicious anticipation and need.
Even so, she couldn’t resist another tease. “They’re small.”
He lifted his head, and his gaze darted from her breasts to her eyes and back again, as though he couldn’t keep from staring. The corner of his mouth quirked. “They are.”
She frowned, and he grinned with wicked intent. “Perhaps I can take the whole of one in my mouth.” Without warning he ducked his head and sucked her in deep, pulling nipple and flesh into his warm mouth as if he’d devour her.
A strangled sound tore from her. She arched up into him, jerking with each hot, wet tug. Her fingers dug into the sheets and she held on. “Jack!”
He smiled around her flesh before drawing away. “Close.” He kissed the under-curve of her breast. “But not quite all of it.”
She panted up at him. “You’ll kill me.”
“Then we’ll die together.” His breath brushed over her damp flesh as he nuzzled her nipple, then her collarbone. Mary shivered. His mouth found the spot at the base of her neck. His spot. He kissed it as the warm wall of his chest brushed against hers. “But not yet.”
Then he proceeded to destroy her by increments, his mouth everywhere, slow, wet kisses that discovered her secrets, warm hands coasting over her skin. And all the while whispering his love for her, how she made him burn, how she drove him mad, as if she were the one doing the destroying. And she sank into the feel of him surrounding her, her own hands and mouth charting the swells and valleys of his body.
Jack’s mouth met hers, his kiss melting and reshaping her lips, as he slid between her legs. They were flesh to flesh, from chest to thigh, his hard strength to her soft endurance. He cupped her jaw as he tilted his head and kissed her again, and again. “Mary,” he whispered. “Let me?”
Emotion clogged her throat. “I am yours.”
His head lifted, and his dark-green eyes went wide, his nostrils flaring. For a moment she feared he would stay that way, silent, staring as if he’d gone somewhere far away. Then his breath left in a sigh. Like relief. Like a first breath. “Mary mine.” His voice rolled over the words, as if trying them out for size.
Before she could answer, he canted his hips, a slight adjustment, and his thick crown was at her opening, a hot encroachment that held the attention of every cell within her body. She craved that intrusion with a strength that had her thighs shaking. Yet at the crest of that want came the memory of the last time she’d been invaded. The pain and degradation. She did not want that foul business tainting this act. If Jack could move past his darkness, so could she.