Cross My Heart (13 page)

The next song was a slow one, the words low and sexy, the rhythm hypnotic. Michael could feel the slight sway of Jenna’s body under his hand. Without thinking he slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, and he felt her stiffen in surprise for just a moment before she relaxed.

He held her lightly, but they fit perfectly together. He closed his eyes and breathed in her fragrance, wishing he could bury his face in her hair.

The music seemed to flow through both of their bodies.

Jenna had never been so aware of another human being. When Michael’s arm slid around her waist she wanted to turn around and kiss him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

But even though he was a different person, he represented the same kind of danger to her that Derek once had. He could pull her off track, make her change course. And she’d promised herself after Derek that she would never make a major decision because of a man.

She had plans for her life that didn’t include falling for a handsome doctor who lived in the town where she’d grown up. A doctor with a fourteen year old daughter who wanted nothing more than to play matchmaker for them.

So Jenna didn’t turn around. She stayed where she was, letting Albert Cray’s ageless voice roll over her like water—like the waves of desire that made her very, very glad that Michael couldn’t see her flushed face or hear the pounding of her heart.

And because she knew there’d be no reason for the two of them to be this close again, she let herself revel in the contact, in Michael’s strong arm around her, his hard chest behind her. She let herself revel in the sensation of being protected, even cherished.

And desired.

He was careful to avoid contact below the belt, but not careful enough. A few times she felt the brush of his arousal against her, and the sensation made her legs tremble and her stomach clench.

They stayed like that for the rest of the show. The crowd called Albert Cray back for two encores before he took his final bow, and only then did Michael take a step away from her. As the two of them stood side by side, cheering, she ached to feel his touch again.

Eventually the crowd quieted, settling into bar stools and drinks and conversation. Jenna looked up at Michael, meeting his eyes for the first time since the show started. His expression was neutral, but the tension in his jaw told her his feelings, whatever they were, were under rigid control.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked after a moment.

She shook her head.

“Do you want to head out?”

She nodded.

A moment later they left the club and stepped out into the soft summer night, walking in silence to the lot where he’d parked. The moon, bright and full, outshone the street lights. In a few minutes they were on the road, heading out of the city.

Jenna stole a glance at Michael as they drove. The silence between them felt electric—and painfully awkward. The longer it went on the more awkward it felt.

Tension thrummed along every nerve ending in her body.

He pulled up in his driveway, and she hopped out of the car before he’d even turned off the ignition. She forced herself to wait for him after that, knowing he wouldn’t let her walk home alone. And, anyway, she wasn’t such a coward that she’d run away without saying good night.

When they reached her back door, she forced herself to speak.

“Michael, I had a wonderful time tonight,” she said, fishing her key out of her pocket. “I, um, hope you did, too.”

She paused, looking at his chest rather than his face, but Michael didn’t say anything. She glanced up then, and his expression made her breath catch. His jaw was tight and his eyes were dark, and he looked like something inside him was barely contained. She backed up a step and bumped into the door.

“Well...good night,” she said quickly, turning away and fumbling with the key. Her hands were trembling and she couldn’t seem to find the lock.

“Jenna.” It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d left the club. “You need to get inside.”

His voice was urgent, which only made her trembling worse.

“I’m trying.”

“Jenna, you need to get away from me. Now.”

She felt him take a step closer, and she knew he was only inches away. The hairs rose on the back of her neck.

Her hand shook again, and the key fell with a metallic
ping
.

“Damn,” she whispered. She leaned her forehead against the door and closed her eyes.

“Jenna,” he said once more, his voice almost hopeless.

A second later his hands were on her shoulders.

He stroked down her arms, and goose bumps swept across her skin. Then he gripped her hips and pulled her against him, into the hard ridge of his arousal, and a rush of desire made her gasp.

One of his hands slid into her hair, brushing it away from her neck, and she felt his mouth on the bare skin of her nape as his other hand moved up her body to cover her breast.

She moaned and arched into him before she could stop herself. His hand tightened almost painfully on her breast as he thrust hard against her, and she moaned again. Then she heard his voice.

“One night.”

Her heart was hammering, and it took her a minute to process what he’d said. “We can’t.”

He turned her to face him, pressing her back against the door. She’d never been so aware of a man’s physical strength, never felt so feminine in comparison.

The look in his eyes made her shiver. “I know you’re leaving. I know you don’t want a relationship. But we can have one night.”

He moved closer, until she could feel the heat coming off his body. He slid a hand down between them, and before she knew what he was doing he’d undone the button of her jeans. Then he tugged down her zipper.

He leaned down close to her ear. “I know you want this as much as I do.”

He pressed his palm against her stomach, and every muscle there tightened. When his hand dipped lower, stroking over the satin of her panties, her head fell forward onto his shoulder.

“Michael,” she said helplessly, but whether she wanted him to stop or keep going she wasn’t sure.

Then his hand moved again, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties to touch her bare skin, and she felt her whole body flush when he found out exactly how much she wanted him.

He sucked in a ragged breath. “Be with me tonight.”

“Michael,” she said again, moving in spite of herself, her body twisting against those searching, insistent fingers as they stroked over her most sensitive skin. Her heart was beating frantically in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps.

“I don’t know what to do,” she heard herself say, overwhelmed by confusion and longing and an ache that filled her heart as much as her body. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Be with me,” he said again, his thumb settling over her throbbing center as he slid two fingers inside her.

She cried out, the sound muffled against his shoulder. His thumb was moving now in quick tight circles and the rising torrent seemed to lift her off her feet. She locked her arms around his neck as she raised her head, her body arching and twisting against his hand, and when she cried out again the sound was swallowed up as he kissed her, hard and fierce and sure, as her body spiraled tighter and tighter and higher and higher.

He tore his mouth from hers. “You’re mine tonight. Say it.”

“Yes,” she gasped, and then her head fell forward as her climax hit her, and she bit down on Michael’s shoulder to keep from screaming as the explosion shattered her into a thousand pieces.

From far, far away she heard Michael murmuring her name. His lips were in her hair and his arms were tight around her as she came slowly back to earth.

He was breathing hard, like he’d been running. “Inside,” he said, bending down to grab the key she’d dropped.

He fitted it into the lock and pushed open the door, pulling her with him over the threshold. He was shaking, and something about that undid her. She tugged at him and he turned to her, and she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. He groaned against her mouth as he pulled her close.

“Upstairs,” he said, breaking the kiss. “Upstairs now, or I take you on the floor.”

She kept her eyes on his as she stepped back, wriggling out of her jeans, kicking them away along with her shoes.

His eyes darkened as he reached for her. “The floor it is,” he said, but she laughed and ran for the stairway.

They made it somehow, stumbling up the stairs and down the hall into her bedroom, falling onto her unmade bed and into a kiss that made her dizzy. She fumbled with Michael’s clothes as he fumbled with hers, getting his jeans and boxers off while he slid her panties down her legs. Their tee shirts came off, and her bra, and suddenly the fumbling stopped as Michael rolled her onto her back and then rose up on his knees, looking down at her.

For a second they were both still.

His brown eyes were so serious. Something in his expression sent a wave of fear through her, because she was afraid the same thing was in her eyes.

His face was becoming dear to her.

He
was becoming dear to her.

She shook her head sharply. She couldn’t feel those things—she wouldn’t. She reached for him, impatient to drown out liking with lust, but he stopped her.

“No,” he said, pinning her wrists above her head, on the pillow. “I’ve fantasized about you since the day I first saw you. If we go too fast I won’t believe it’s real.”

Panic rose in her throat. “But it’s not real,” she said, struggling against his grip. “We’re not—this isn’t—”

“I know,” he said, his voice suddenly harsh. “I get it. But for this one night, Jenna, you’re mine.”

Her body arched towards him, suddenly and instinctively. Something inside her, something utterly primal, responded to his words and the look on his face as if she’d been waiting for this her entire life.

The feeling should have terrified her. It went against everything she thought she knew about herself.

But it was just one night. One night of fantasy, of make believe.

One night to belong to him.

She met his eyes in the moonlight that streamed through the windows, and she knew he could feel the change in her, the pliancy that made her whole body yearn towards him. “What do you want me to do?” she whispered.

He smiled. Then he leaned in and kissed her, slowly and thoroughly.

“Arch your head back,” he whispered when he finally pulled away.

She’d never felt so safe and so vulnerable at the same time. The helplessness of having her hands pinned down, of exposing her throat...Michael caressed her neck with his lips, and then his teeth, and then his tongue, and the sensations made her shudder and writhe against him.

Michael knew he’d never recover from this. Every second he was with Jenna, he could feel the marks she was leaving on him.

“Leave your hands where they are,” he said, letting her wrists go and moving down her body to her breasts, stroking with his tongue, nipping with his teeth, teasing with his fingers.

He’d never felt this way before. With Jenna, the most primitive part of him surged to the surface. Nothing was more important than the need to claim her, to make her his. His body knew she belonged to him, and he didn’t give a damn about anything else.

The sweet peaks of her nipples drove him crazy. He bit down harder than he meant to and looked up, afraid he’d hurt her. But her gasp of surprise held pleasure, too, and her hands were still on the pillow above her head, where he’d put them.

The sight did something to him, made him feel like a barbarian king. He looked down, and saw the glint of moonlight on her belly ring. With a groan he lowered his mouth to the little piece of metal that had haunted his dreams, dipping his tongue into the dimple of her naval, feeling a rush of satisfaction when she shuddered against him.

He went lower. “Spread your legs,” he said in a voice so raw he didn’t recognize it.

She complied, and he moved between her thighs, kissing her there as he moved closer to the place he really wanted to be. When he heard Jenna moan he smiled against her skin.

He urged her legs wider apart. When he bent his head close he felt her trembling, and he gripped her hips hard, holding her in place.

He was drunk in seconds, ravenous for her. He showed her no mercy, delving into her body with tongue and fingers until she was twisting against him helplessly.

He’d never felt so attuned to a woman. He knew exactly where to touch her, when to go hard and fast and when to pull back, taking her close but not letting her go over until she was frantic with want, writhing so desperately it was hard to hold her down. Only then did he take her over the edge, his own heart pounding when she cried out his name, greedy for her pleasure as he drank in every spasm, every quiver, every tremor as she came slowly down from the crest.

Even then he went on kissing her softly, moving back up her body until he could look down into her eyes. Her skin was flushed, her face glowing.

She took a deep breath. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

He brushed the hair away from her face. Before this moment, he wouldn’t have believed that anything could make her look more beautiful. “Should I be afraid?”

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him onto his back, throwing a leg across him to straddle his hips. “Very afraid.”

He forced himself to stay still. “Are you planning an assault on my virtue?”

“I am.” She slid along his body, kissing her way down his torso. Every muscle in his body was tense with anticipation.

She took him in her mouth, and his hips jerked in response.

It was too much. He slid a hand into her hair and tried to control himself, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he could handle this. Not when he’d wanted her for so long.

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her up to him.

“You have to stop. I’m close, and I need to be inside you. Please tell me you have condoms.”

“You tortured me for hours,” she said softly, her mouth close to his ear. “I can’t believe you stopped me after five seconds.”