Mary woke at the break of dawn to find Jack sleeping beside her, his face half-mashed into the pillow, his hair adorably mussed. With his lips soft and parted and his cheek scrunched up by his eye, he appeared a boy, if one discounted the masculine sprawl of his body, half-hidden beneath the sheets. Her gaze followed the light and the way it touched his skin. The smooth arc of his back raced down, then swooped up to the hard swells of his buttocks, just peeking out from the linen.
As if feeling her admiration, he stirred, giving a little grunt, and turned onto his back, the move pulling the sheets farther down. Oh, my, but that was a lovely sight. She could not help herself. Her hand fell to the taut hardness of his belly and began to caress it, loving the contrast between silky smooth skin and the rough trail of hairs that led the way down.
His cock rose before he did. When it lay thick and heavy against her hand, his eyes opened, long, dark lashes surrounding irises the color of evergreen on a winter’s day. His gaze focused on her, and a smile lit over his features. Little lines fanned out from his gorgeous eyes, his brows tilting on an upward slant, his wide mouth curling up, flashing even white teeth.
Mary’s breath caught. With shaking fingers she touched one of the brackets emphasizing that grin of his. “Ah, now, Jack Talent,” she said with quiet awe, “when you smile, your soul shines through.” Her palm settled on his warm cheek. “And it is utterly beautiful to me.”
His smile wavered, his eyes clouding with something like shock and discomfort. “Christ”—he laughed lightly—“that ought to be my line, Merrily, not yours.”
In a blink she was under him and he was sinking into her with a deep, smooth glide that took her breath, his body warm and loose-limbed from sleep. “Are you sore?” he murmured.
“Yes.” A delicious, decadent ache.
His mouth quirked, but he didn’t stop moving within her. “I’ll be gentle.” He kissed the sensitive spot on her neck. “But thorough.”
Shivers of heat licked up her sides as his hands skimmed along them, up over her breasts, her arms, until he found her hands. Their fingers linked, and he held them tight. He’d trapped her, leaving her unable to do anything but feel. Jack in her, around her, filling her. Each withdrawal had her whimpering in protest. Each surge back in made her groan. And so slow that she couldn’t stand it.
“Feel good?” he asked, giving her back the words she’d asked him before.
“Yes.” She shuddered. “God, yes. But”—she licked her lips—“I want to move.” Her flesh was on fire, her muscles trembling in protest.
His smile was sweet, and evil. “I know, love.” He kept her pinned, his thick heaviness moving in and out just enough to torment. And the pressure within, the shuddering pleasure, increased. She struggled against it, and he caught her lower lip, suckling it, his slick tongue slipping into her mouth like a tease. She licked back, wanting to feel the hot sleekness of him, but he edged away and gave her a soft, chaste kiss instead. “I know.”
“Jack,” she growled. He was driving her mad. And he knew it, chuckling, his pace never faltering. Mary stretched, having nowhere to go. Her body wasn’t hers. It had become a needy, hot, pulsing thing. “Jack.” She licked the salty smooth skin along his collarbone, loving the way he shivered. It wasn’t enough. She wondered if it ever would be. “God, I want you.”
His smile was lopsided and wry, even as his eyes lit up. “Just so you’re aware, you’re having me.” He moved with a little grunt. “Right now, in fact.”
She laughed softly even as that greedy need grew stronger. “You move, you bloody breathe”—she spread her legs wider, trying to take him deeper—“and I want you more. I want to bite you, do you a violence.”
“Christ, Chase.” He thrust hard and firm, his lips parted on a ragged breath. “Christ. You destroy me.”
That dark, hot feeling surged again, and she turned her head and sank her teeth into the hard swell of his bicep. And he lost himself in her. Just as she wanted him to do.
This time, when she came, it was a quiet shiver that rippled over her body, her cheek pressed against his. They stayed that way for a moment, Jack a heavy, wonderful weight and her arms holding him as close as she could. “You are beautiful, you know,” she said.
He snorted softly. “I’ve always thought you were a bit touched in the head, angel.”
But she could hear the cautious happiness hiding behind his quip.
“That is because you don’t see your true self. But I do.” She smiled. “You cannot hide from me.”