An Irresistible Bachelor (24 page)

Callie smiled softly. “That's okay. I kind of like you when you're a little off-kilter.”

Jack stared into her eyes.

He couldn't believe it, but she was looking at him warmly. The tension in her shoulders told him she was still wary, but the openness in her face suggested he might unexpectedly have a chance to be with her.

“God, Callie. I just want to be with you,” he said, trying to find the right words. “Badly. And now. You're the only woman who's ever made me feel like this and I just want a shot with you. I know I've screwed a lot of things up, but I want to try and make you happy. Hell, I want to make you promises, even though I can't expect you to believe in them considering—everything about me.”

He shut up. She didn't need to hear any more gory details about his failures in monogamy.

“That's okay,” she said, startling him. “I don't need promises. I'm not looking for a fantasy.”

Jack felt a surge of hope and clung to it. “Look, I know I'm not the best bet if you're looking for a relationship.”

“You don't say. And here I was, already planning the wedding.”

He studied her for a long moment. The small smile she was wearing was enough to melt him.

He wanted to reach out to her, but restrained himself. “You, ah, you make me believe in things I used to make fun of.”

“As in Santa Claus?” she said, eyes glowing.

Jack smiled back. “I'm talking about love. Forever after.”

Her face changed, some of the pleasure draining away. “Don't say that. Not right now.”

He opened his mouth, but shut it when she moved away from the counter. She took one step, and then another, and then she was walking over to him.

“I don't want to talk,” she murmured, huskily.

And Jack's body just about detonated.

Through eyes wide with disbelief and gratitude, he watched her come toward him, seeing all that red hair, those hips, her tiny waist. She moved like she knew what she was doing, and it had very little to do with just crossing the room. She also seemed a little shy, chewing on her lip as her eyes bounced from his face to his chest and back again.

Innocence and raw sex appeal were one hell of a combination, he thought, feeling his mouth go dry.

“You didn't answer my question,” she said softly.

A band of sweat came out on his forehead. “Which one?”

“What exactly were you missing?”

And then she touched him, on the chest, above his heart, which had started to beat like a jackhammer.

Christ, he'd had women come on to him before, but it had been nothing like this. Standing in front of him, with her palm bridging the space between their bodies, she had total power over him. She could have crushed him.

Just by walking away.

“You,” he said with a groan. “I was missing . . . you.”

He bent his head down for a kiss, but she pushed against him.

“You remember when you asked me what type of man I was looking for?” He nodded. “Well, I want someone who will treat me with nothing but care and love. Who will respect me and walk through fire for me. I also want to be able to trust him completely.”

Jack shifted his weight back but she put her hand on his neck and stroked him.

“Except you know what?” she said. “I've never found him. Haven't even come close. And I'm not going to pretend he's you, either. There aren't a lot of romantic heroes in the real world.” Her hand moved over to his face and he turned his lips to her palm. “And I want you.”

He closed his eyes, thinking those four words spoken in her husky voice were more seductive than any nude body he'd ever seen.

“Jack, I don't want you to promise me anything, but I'm going to ask you for one favor.”

He opened his eyes, hoping whatever she wanted was within his control. “Name it.”

“Just let me know when you lose interest
before
the next woman comes into your life.” She tilted her head up, her lips so close to his he could feel her sweet breath on his mouth. “I'm only going to look at this as a short-term fling, so I have no expectations. I just want to keep my dignity, okay?”

He was about to argue that he was going nowhere fast when he saw a quick flash of mistrust in her eyes. Of course she wouldn't put faith in his words yet, he thought.

“God, yes. I promise you that.”

With a groan, he put his lips down to hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. As his hands spanned her hips, he felt her grab onto his shoulders and lean into him. Lifting his head, he growled deep in his throat, ready to fall on his knees and beg if he had to.

“Upstairs?” he ground out.

When she nodded, he took her hand urgently and led her through the house, up to the Red Room. He hadn't even closed the door behind them when he took her in his arms again and kissed her long and hard, wrapping himself around her and holding her against his body.

He shut the door with his foot and barely heard the clap as it slammed shut because he was slipping his hands under her sweater, onto warm, smooth skin. He groaned as he pulled up her top and kicked off his shoes. Lifting her sweater over her head and tossing it to the ground, he had to close his eyes to take back some control.

If he kept going like this, they'd only be half naked when he came inside of her.

Her hands went around his neck and pulled him to her lips just as he started guiding her backward to the bed. They got tangled in a chair and he had to catch a lamp to save it from falling when they knocked into a table. Keeping contact with her lips, he ripped his shirt off with a tear only to get trapped by his cuff links and the sleeves.

He cursed in frustration and she laughed softly as he tugged and jerked.

“Stop fighting and let me do it,” she told him.

He stared down at himself, willing her fingers to be fast. As she quickly freed him, he murmured, “I may never wear those goddamn things again. And to hell with the shirt for that matter.”

Her smile was tremulous as she put the pair of gold studs on the bedside table. The shirt dropped to the floor in a cloud of white, and as her wide eyes went to his body, he suddenly wanted to slow down so he could remember every moment with her. She was looking at him as if she'd never seen a man's chest before, and the wonder in her blue eyes made him feel as if he was making love for the first time. As he stood in front of her, patience came to him in a cooling wave.

There would be no hurried sex tonight, he thought. He wanted them to be together the right way. Slowly. Reverently.

But as she continued to stare at him, he felt some of the urgency come back.

“You're beautiful,” she said on a choked sigh. She put her hand up to her mouth, as if trying to hide her reaction.

And Jack was undone.

“Come here,” he said.

Taking her hand in his, he sat down on the bed and cradled her between his legs. Her breasts were covered with thin, white lace and she was resplendent in the soft light, the contours of her body casting enticing shadows.

He put his hands on her hips and moved them slowly down to the bottom of her skirt. Sliding underneath, he stroked the backs of her knees and then moved up her thighs, feeling the warmth of her. Putting his lips against the skin of her stomach, he went searching for the zipper and the button in back.

And then the skirt was on the floor. Followed by her panty hose.

Taking her in his arms, he pulled her on top of him and they fell back on the bed. As he kissed her deeply, he rolled her over and gently touched her breasts. As she grabbed onto his arms, her body contracting with pleasure, he impatiently pushed aside the bra and took her into his mouth, looking at her face as he did. Her eyes were wide with astonishment as she arched up, spreading her legs. It was as if she had no idea her body could feel the way it did, and Jack almost lost all control.

With shaking hands, he quickly did away with the bra altogether and settled over her, feeling her fingers in his hair as she absorbed his weight in the cradle of her hips. The moment he felt her naked breasts against his chest and her heat through his pants, he had some vague thought that he might not be the same man afterward.

And that it wasn't a bad thing at all.

CALLIE FELT Jack come down over her and she ran her hands across the smooth skin of his back. As he kissed her neck, she knew she was making the right decision. She wanted Jack—he wanted her. Teenage fantasies of a perfect love had no place in the real world. All anyone ever had was the here and now.

And what she had was Jack nearly naked and touching her with hands that trembled.

He kissed a path down to her breasts and his hands went to her panties. Impatiently, she lifted her hips, thinking how good it would feel to have nothing between them. He slid the fabric down her legs, and as soon as she was free of the wisp of silk, he started to stroke the inside of her thigh.

“I need you,” he said hoarsely. “Oh, God . . .”

She felt his mouth, warm and wet, over her belly button and the shock of his kiss was covered by a rush of heat as she felt his fingers brushing up against her core. A low sound of satisfaction came out of him and she reached for his face, needing his kiss.

When he pulled back, she let out a protest but he was only taking off his pants. They hit the floor, were followed by his boxers, and then his naked body was over her. The hard, blunt feel of him against her center made her arch beneath him and she was instantly frustrated when he stopped kissing her and pulled back.

“I can't hold on. I can't . . . Tell me to go to hell right now or I'm going to . . .” The veins in his neck were straining and his wide shoulders were rigid with tension. He was keeping himself in check. Barely.

For a split second, Callie felt some fear. This was it.

She looked into his eyes. She could say the word and they would go no further. She could wake up tomorrow morning without having known a slice of heaven. She could wake up alone. Still a virgin.

But life was too damn short to live in the shadows. So she reached up and touched his face, urging him down to her mouth.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

She felt him sag with relief and then he was kissing her again as he positioned himself over her. With one great surge, he drove into her body.

A sharp pain made her grimace, but the sting was followed by a feeling unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She let out a murmur of pleasure and then realized Jack had frozen in place.

She didn't like the look on his face. His eyes were wide with shock as he focused somewhere on the wall behind her head.

“Jack?” she said softly.

He looked down with a disarming blankness. She almost didn't recognize him, and staring at a stranger was disturbing, considering he was still inside of her.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a hollow voice.

After she nodded, he withdrew from her body slowly and carefully wrapped the duvet cover around her. Then he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Tell me that you aren't . . . that you weren't . . .”

“A virgin?” She focused on the hands that were braced on his knees. “Well, yes.”

He shot her a sideways look. “And you didn't think to mention it?”

“I wasn't thinking much at the time.”

His head started moving from side to side. “Jesus . . .”

“Why is it different because it happens to be the first time? You would have been . . . fine with it if I'd had another man before you, right?”

He laughed harshly. “Christ, I can't believe I'm actually going to say this, but I'm glad you haven't been with anyone else.” He stopped shaking his head. “I just wish I'd known. I would have done things very differently.”

“I, ah, I thought you were doing just fine.”

There was a long period of silence. She started to grow cold as she pictured him pulling on his clothes and bolting from the room like that guy in college had.

But Jack wouldn't do that, she told herself. Surely, he wouldn't.

He looked at her again. “You should have something that's worth remembering.”

“I don't know, Jack. You were pretty unforgettable.” She deliberately kept her tone light, not wanting to hint at the desperation she'd feel if he up and left her. Unsatisfied. Alone.

His eyes measured her gravely. She could tell he was wondering if he really had hurt her.

He cleared his throat. “I'd like to—try this all over again.”

She smiled and reached for him.

Moving cautiously, as if she might be broken, he shifted closer to her. He reached out and brushed his knuckle down the skin of her cheek and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand traveled down her jaw to her chin and he brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip while tilting up her face. There was a gentleness about him, a concern, that tempered the need that had returned to his face.

When he kissed her, his mouth was light on her lips, soft to the point of frustration. He refused to deepen the contact. Even though she wanted more, and twisted to get closer to him, he stayed just out of reach. His hands began to stroke her neck and her collarbone and then under her breasts and a sensual languor came over her as his lips followed.

No matter how hard she tried, he remained elusive, pleasuring her with his hands and his mouth without letting her return the favor. Even when she let out a ragged complaint, he refused to bring his body against hers. She kept grabbing at his arms to pull him down, but he hovered above her skin, kissing her breasts and then her stomach as he stroked her thighs. The torture was deliciously frustrating and the pressure in her body kept growing and growing until she scored his skin with her nails as she held on to him.