A Whisper in the Dark (26 page)

He reached her a moment later. In one smooth motion he locked her in with his arms by grasping the shelf behind her. Julia got an impression of mile-wide shoulders. Lean hips encased in faded denim. She jerked her gaze to his face, caught a glimpse of heavy brows riding low over eyes glittering with dark intentions. Two days of stubble on a lean jaw. A sculpted mouth pulled taut.

“This,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

TWENTY-ONE

Julia was no stranger to the power of lust. In her books,
she explored the many facets of passion, delving into the darker, forbidden side of desire. But none of her writings had prepared her for this encounter with John Merrick.

The hot shock of pleasure stunned her. Every nerve ending in her body jumped to life the instant his mouth touched hers. Her blood heated and began to boil in her veins. A pang low in her abdomen transformed into an ache that was urgent and unbearable, a knot drawn inexorably tighter.

Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined a simple kiss throwing her into such a maelstrom of physical and emotional upheaval. But she knew there was nothing simple about this kiss. About this moment. Or the man holding her in his arms.

Using both hands, she pushed against his shoulders. But the attempt was token, because deep inside her something called out to him. She wanted this and no false pretenses were going to change that. His shoulders were rock hard beneath her palms. His skin was hot to the touch. Sweat dampened his shirt beneath his bomber jacket. She ran her hands over his shoulders, down the muscled biceps of the arms that pinned her. All the while his mouth coaxed and teased and made promises she knew better than to believe.

She believed anyway.

It was wrong for her to want him. Wrong for her to respond here and now and with no holds barred. But for the first time in her adult life, Julia didn’t think about doing the right thing. And even though in the back of her mind she knew this would cost her later, she didn’t let herself think about repercussions.

A swirl of dizziness engulfed her when his body came flush against hers. She got the impression of hard planes and angles. She wanted to put her hands on him and explore all of them. A gasp escaped her when he moved against her, but he deepened the kiss and swallowed the sound.

For an instant she resisted, but the feel of his mouth against hers tore down her defenses. She wanted his tongue in her mouth. She opened to him. He went in deep. At some point he’d loosened his grip on the shelf behind her. His hands trembled slightly as he set his palms on either side of her face and angled her toward him. His palms were damp and rough against her skin. A tremor moved through her when they slid to her shoulders and skimmed down her arms to rest on her hips.

Gripping her there, he moved against her. Once. Twice. She was keenly aware of his arousal sliding against her pelvis. A groan rumbling up from his chest. Her own blood pounding like a drum in her womb. She shivered when he removed her shirt. A protest escaped her when he cupped her breasts.

But John didn’t stop. He didn’t give her time to catch her breath. His hand went to the front of her bra and for several seconds he struggled with the clasp. When he couldn’t get it open fast enough, he used both hands and snapped the thin scrap of material.

Her breasts sprang free. Pleasure surged when he brushed his fingertips over her swollen nipples. Julia arched her back, giving him unencumbered access. He cupped her breasts. She muffled a cry when he took her sensitized nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gently squeezed. All she could think was that if he stopped she would surely die.

He broke the kiss. Her head lolled back. Then his mouth was on her breast, warm and wet and sucking. The intensity of the pleasure made her cry out. Her womb contracted and she wondered if a woman could orgasm from breast stimulation alone.

She wanted to touch him, explore every hard plane, take his breath the same way he was taking hers. Reaching out, she skimmed her hands over his chest. The buttons of his shirt seemed like a monumental task when she could barely think, so she used both hands and ripped his shirt open. Vaguely, she was aware of buttons popping and hitting the floor. He quivered when she skimmed her hands over his pebbled male nipples. His quick intake of breath told her he was sensitive there so she did it again.

The floor shifted beneath her feet when he reached down and cupped her between her legs. She felt herself begin to melt. Julia knew she should stop. The moment was rapidly spiraling out of control. It was a moment she would be sorry for later. But the pleasure was like a powerful narcotic racing through her blood. A drug that fed a ravenous need she hadn’t even known existed.

John whispered something in her ear. But Julia was beyond hearing, beyond understanding. She was aware of his hand sliding down her hip. Cool air rushed over her thighs as he raised the hem of her skirt. Then his palm was flush against her belly, sliding lower into the waistband of her panty hose.

She knew what would happen next. But lost in a sea of sensation, she wasn’t strong enough to stop him. If only he would stop kissing her.

But he didn’t stop.

His fingers brushed the curls at her vee. Her mind ordered her to shove away from him and stop this madness before it veered into dangerous territory. But her body betrayed her intellect. She reveled in the smooth slide of his palm over her skin. When he reached the apex of her thighs a second time, she opened to him. Her legs went weak when his hand slid over her mound, separated her. She cried out when two fingers dipped inside and went deep.

“Easy,” he whispered.

Julia went rigid for an instant, then her bones seemed to melt. “John . . .”

“That’s it,” he said and began to stroke her.

The world around her faded to monochrome and ceased to exist. All she could think was that she was at his mercy. That in all the years she’d been writing, she’d never even come close to capturing the power of true desire. The reckless heat of unencumbered lust. The tangle of emotions that went along with both of those things.

The pleasure built with breathtaking speed, with stunning intensity. Need tore down her intellect, piece by devastated piece. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her hips moved in time with his hand, each stroke driving her to a higher level of madness. All the while he kissed her like a man possessed.

The climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. Control fled. Every sense heightened to a fever pitch. Her body broke a sweat. Vaguely, she was aware of his name on her lips. Her fingers digging into his shoulders and back while the sensations coursing through her seemed to go on and on.

For several seconds Julia could do nothing but cling to him. At some point her legs had buckled. She would have slid to the floor, but he was holding her propped against the wall. Her entire body trembled with aftershocks. Vaguely, she was aware of their labored breaths. It was a harsh sound in the confines of the storage room—as if both of them had just run a marathon.

Slowly, her senses returned. John continued to hold her, but he gently slid his hand from inside her pantyhose and smoothed her skirt.

Julia let him hold her, but only because she didn’t yet have the strength to stand on her own. She couldn’t believe what she’d just allowed to happen. She couldn’t believe she’d done something so utterly reckless. Her. Ms. I’m-always-in-control Wainwright. She who never veered from the straight and narrow. She who, at the age of twenty-nine, never kissed on the first date. What in the name of God had she been thinking?

But Julia knew what she’d been thinking. She hadn’t, and that was the problem. She’d handed the controls over to John. Everyone knew men couldn’t be trusted to make decisions when it came to sex.

Sex.

Oh God.

Embarrassment was the first emotion she could identify. Not only because she’d given herself to John with such reckless abandon, but because her father and several close friends whom she cared for and respected—people whose opinion of her mattered greatly—were standing just one room away more than likely wondering what the hell they were doing in the storage room.

Regret came in a blinding rush.

She disengaged herself from John. Because she couldn’t meet his gaze, she looked down at her disheveled clothes and brushed at them frantically. When she mustered the courage, she made eye contact with John.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He met her gaze levelly. “Screwing things up probably.”

“Damn right you are.”

“I didn’t mean for things to go that far.”

Spinning away from him, Julia tucked her blouse into her skirt. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t believe you let me.”

That was the worst part about the whole episode, she thought. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t blame it on him. She had partaken in the moment every bit as enthusiastically as he had.

“That’s the most . . . inappropriate thing I’ve ever done in my life.” Not knowing what else to do, she began wiping frantically at the wet spot on her skirt.

He handed her a Kleenex from a box on the shelf. “Let me help—”

“I can do it.” She ripped the tissue from his hand and dabbed at the spot. “My father is standing out there wondering what the hell we’re doing in here.” When the spot had been blotted, she looked at John. “What do you suggest I tell them?”

He rolled a shoulder, and Julia couldn’t help but remember how that shoulder had felt beneath her hands when he’d been kissing her. “Tell them I came to you with a problem.”

“That’s not far off the mark.”

He laughed. It was a rich, masculine sound. That he could be flippant about this ticked her off.

“This is not the least bit funny,” she said. “You waltz into my shop drunk and . . .” She closed her eyes.

“It takes two to tango, Julia.”

“I’m not saying you’re the only one to blame for this, but you instigated it. Neither one of us is in a position to . . .” But the words failed her.

“Have sex?”

“We didn’t have sex.”

“One of us didn’t.”

The image of him bringing her to climax flashed in her mind’s eye. She stared at him, her face flaming. Humiliation burned, but she didn’t let herself look away. “Neither of us is in a place in our lives where we should be taking on a relationship. What you did by coming in here and . . . kissing me like that was . . . inappropriate.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Inappropriate?”

“To say the least.”

“You can deny it all you want,” he began, “but I know I’m not the only one who’s noticed the chemistry every time we get within shouting distance of each other. You’ve felt it. All I did was act on it.”

The blush came harder, hotter. “There is no chemistry, John. Just bad judgment on both our parts. You’re troubled. You reached out. I was there for you because I’m your friend. End of story.”

“Or maybe I’m just being more honest about it.”

“It shouldn’t have happened.” She blew out a breath. “It can’t happen again.”

For a moment she thought he was going to grab her and kiss her. She prayed he wouldn’t, because with arousal still humming through her veins, she wasn’t sure she’d have the willpower to push him away.

“I think you should leave,” she said.

Without giving him time to respond, Julia straightened her shoulders and started toward the door. It crossed her mind again that the people she’d left standing in her shop were going to be curious. A dozen lame explanations scrolled through her mind. The only one that sounded even remotely reasonable was that they’d been talking. Of course that didn’t explain the flush on her face or that damn wet spot on her skirt . . .

She was brushing at it again with trembling hands when a hard rap sounded on the door. She froze and watched the knob twist back and forth.

“Julia? John?” It was Jacob’s voice. “You guys okay in there?”

Pasting on a smile she hoped looked real, she unlocked the door and swung it open. “Of course we’re okay,” she said brightly. “What’s up?”

Jacob’s gaze skimmed down the front of her. Julia held onto her smile, hoping he didn’t notice the wet spot. It could always be explained away . . .

“The door was locked,” he said.

“Oh.” She shrugged. “Hmmm . . . the bolt must have engaged when I closed the door.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “And you closed the door because . . .”

She glanced back at John and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “We just needed to talk for a moment, but everything’s okay now.”

“Uh huh.”

“Julia darlin’.”

She glanced past Jacob and felt a moment of panic when she saw her father heading toward them with Parker at his side.

Jacob shook his head. “If you want him to buy the same story you just told me, you might try buttoning your blouse.”

Julia looked down, and was mortified to see there was only one button keeping her blouse closed. Gasping, she turned away and quickly buttoned up.

“Darlin’, it was a lovely evenin’, but Parker and I are going to call it a night.”

Buttons engaged, Julia pasted a smile on her face and turned to her father. “Are you sure you’ve got to leave? There’s plenty of food.”

He’d stopped in the doorway of the storage room, his gaze flicking to John. “Parker and I are flying to Baton Rouge tomorrow to discuss the district’s position on some of the issues I’ll be addressing at the conference. We’ve got to catch an early flight. Five A.M. rolls around early.”

John came up beside her and extended his hand. “It’s good to see you again, Benjamin.”

All Julia could think was that same hand had been touching her intimately just a few minutes earlier.

“Everything okay?” the elder Wainwright asked.

“Now that the stalker has been caught, everything’s just fine.”