Jack’s heavy pant mingled with hers as he rasped, “This is ‘I want you.’ ” His kiss deepened. The warm, slick tip of his tongue glided along the edges of her lips, coaxing them open. Mary shivered. She’d never felt the like, as though his tongue touched more than her mouth, as though it licked at the tips of her breasts, down her spine, between her legs. Whimpering, she opened her mouth wider, her fingers clutching the hard swell of his shoulder.
He responded with a low groan, his tongue delving deeper, sliding and coaxing. And she ignited. Her chin bumped his in her greedy haste to kiss him. Mary twined her tongue with his, learning his taste, loving the way he trembled under her touch, and he surged against her, all desperation and heat. I want you. How I want you. He’d been her enemy, teased and taunted her, made her blind with rage. And he kissed her as if she were the only thing in existence. As if she were his existence. And it was perfect.
Her world tilted, and then she was sinking onto the cold, hard floor. His warm, dense chest pressed against her, and his hot, clever mouth fed upon hers. She was dizzy again, her whole body trembling, her breath too short. Her breasts ached, and her skin burned. She could do nothing more than hold on to him as her old world crumbled about her.
“Jack.” She needed more.
His hand was at her hip, the other one under her head, holding her to him. The lines of his face were severe, almost harsh in the blue shadows. The look in his eyes was pained. “I want you.” His lips shaped the words against her. “But I need you more.”
Blind need had her clawing at his shoulders, holding him as if he’d pull away. Her hands grasped his short, shorn locks, then lost purchase as he kissed his way along her check, down to the tender juncture of her shoulder.
Something in him must have eased a bit, for he suddenly gentled. Soft lips pressed against her skin, scattering shivers down her spine. His breath gusted warm and humid into the well of her neck. “Slowly,” he said as if speaking to himself. “I can go slowly.”
He leaned against her, his fingers opening and closing on her hip as if he fought with the impulse to let her go. “You deserve slow care.” Another shudder wracked him. “We deserve it.”
Mary wound her arms about his back and held him. “Slow, fast, as long as it is with you, Jack.” She’d never given proper voice to it, but the words were out, and she knew the truth. For better or worse, Jack Talent was the only man she’d ever wanted. And she feared that he was the only man she’d ever want again.
He lifted his head, his eyes dark and glittering. He studied her for a brief moment, and then he kissed her. It was no longer frantic, but something altogether different. Something more. The tender claim behind it was a kick to her heart, and some small part of her feared it would stop altogether if he were to leave her just then. But he didn’t. He merely kissed her again. It was no introduction, this kiss. He was telling her something new, something she couldn’t quite understand. But she felt it.
“It was always you, Mary,” he said. “From the moment we met, it was you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kissing Mary Chase. Mary Chase beneath him, soft, fragrant, and pliant. In his arms. How had it happened? Jack’s head reeled, and his thoughts scattered. It might have been a dream. But no. His dreams of her had never felt this good. Her taste was not light and sweet as he’d imagined, but dark and smoky, rich and complex. She was whisky and chocolate. Goddamn but he shook like a lad as he tucked her lithe body close and kissed her gorgeous, luscious mouth.
That she’d wanted his kiss, when she hadn’t wanted any other, lit him with joy and lust until he scarcely functioned. She had no idea what it meant to him. For the truth was, he’d only kissed one other woman in his life, and she’d been paid by Ian to do it. Ian, who had declared that all men needed to be taught how to please women, and that a good tup would set him to rights. While Jack had enjoyed his lesson, it had never felt right, knowing that his partner had been bought and paid for. Then he’d met Mary. And he hadn’t wanted any other.
Mary. She was his flavor, the only taste he wanted to indulge. His body was heavy and tender. Pleasure washed over him in a hot, rolling wave as he feasted on her mouth, slowly. So slowly that he ached. Sweat bloomed on his skin, making him shiver again. His fingertips glided along her fragile jaw as he licked her upper lip. He didn’t allow his hands to explore lower. It would be over too soon that way. He’d fought this for so long. Now he planned to drown in her and enjoy every moment.
She made a little sound of contentment every time he slid his tongue into her warm mouth. And his cock throbbed in response. He lost track of time, forgot where he was, as they lay in a languid, heated cocoon of their own making, simply kissing, as if it were the only thing in the world. Even so, his fingers soon found their way to the clasp of her cloak. The grey wool slid open, revealing a lining of shimmering bronze silk. He smiled against her mouth.