Kissing Under The Mistletoe: The Sullivans (Contemporary Romance) (17 page)

Letting the sheets fall away, she put her
hand on his chest, his pectoral muscles jumping beneath her palm
and fingertips as she slid them up to caress the beautifully
masculine planes of his jaw and chin. Desire had been sated just
minutes ago and, still, as she leaned forward to press her mouth to
his, the sparks flew again, even hotter and higher this time.

Because she now knew exactly how good making
love with Jack was, it sent her hunger for him spiking once more.
But even as she tried to focus on the physical, she knew there was
one important reason she so desperately needed to make love with
him again.

Mary had been called beautiful a thousand
times in her life, but no one had ever actually treated her as if
she was special
and
beautiful. With every
brush of his skin against hers, with the heat from his dark eyes
that watched her so carefully every single moment to make sure she
was happy, Jack only cared about her.

And she knew in her heart of hearts that he
would never do anything to hurt her. Both of them rose to their
knees on the bed, and as he moved his hands to her hips to pull her
flush against him, she loved how hard every inch of him was.
Already, she was addicted to the delicious scratch of hair from his
chest and legs against her smooth skin, the burn from the dark
shadow on his jaw as he ran kisses all across her face and neck and
shoulders and breasts.

She’d been amazed by the way he’d held on to
his patience as he’d stripped her earlier, taking her from peak to
peak while keeping the reins on his own needs. She’d never, ever
forget the beauty he’d shown her, how gentle he’d been even as he
drove her toward utter madness.

But as renewed passion wrapped around them
like a velvet ribbon tying them together, the ravenous need that
grew bigger and stronger with every moment they spent in each
other’s arms took the place of patience and self-control. And as
they fell back onto the bed, tangled in each other, Mary didn’t
have a prayer of keeping up with Jack’s hands, with his mouth, with
the demands he made of her pleasure.

Breathless as he found her sweetest spots
again, needing to give him just as much, they tumbled so that she
could rove her own hands and mouth across his hard, heated
body.

And then he was gripping her by the waist and
pulling her up over him, coming into her again in one hard thrust.
Capturing her mouth with his, with low growls of pleasure rumbling
from his chest to hers, from one heartbeat to the next, they drove
each other higher.

Giving. Taking. Sharing.

Loving.

And as Mary shattered into a thousand
beautiful pieces in Jack’s arms, everything she’d tried to trap
inside for so long, all of the emotions she’d been so afraid to
feel, finally burst free.

Mary woke to the warmth of sunlight streaming
over her skin. Surprisingly bright winters were one of the things
she loved about San Francisco, especially when she could easily
find snow within hours of the city by heading to the mountains
surrounding Lake Tahoe.

This morning, however, the sunlight wasn’t
the only reason she was warm. Jack was wrapped around her, his
front pressed to her back, his legs curled into hers.

A sudden flash of terror at just how much of
herself she’d given him the night before threatened to send her
heart racing. And yet, nothing felt the slightest bit wrong about
the way she was holding one of Jack’s hands to her chest, his other
hand tangled in her hair, while the warmth of his breath tickled
the sensitive skin on the back of her neck. In fact, it was true
that nothing had ever felt so right as waking up in bed wrapped in
Jack’s arms as if she were a precious gift he couldn’t bear to part
with.

His breathing remained even, but his fingers
began to slide, feather-light, over her skin. Had he been waiting
for her to wake so that they could continue their sensual adventure
into a new day?

He’d been completely straightforward on her
doorstep in telling her that one night wouldn’t be enough for him,
and maybe it was sending the wrong message to let one night turn so
quickly into more.

But how could any woman on the planet resist
Jack Sullivan?

The lightest flick of his tongue over her
neck sent a shiver running through her, head to toe. As her brain
warred with her heart over what the right thing to do might be, her
body gave the answer by arching just enough so that he could more
easily nip the skin he’d kissed.

Shuddering with need just that quickly, when
he shifted their hands on her chest so that they were both cupping
one breast together, as his name fell from her lips she was shocked
to find her throat slightly raw.

A dozen sensual visions from the night before
came at her then. She’d never been one of those women who felt they
had to put on a show in bed, but with Jack, she hadn’t been able to
stop herself from calling out his name.

He was hot and hard against her bottom, and
all it would have taken was the slightest shift of his legs and her
hips for him to be inside her again. But where they’d rushed to
have each other in the darkness the night before, this morning he
was torturing her with slow, sweet caresses, as if he wanted to
commit every inch of her to memory.

From breast to waist, then waist to hip, then
hip to thigh, then front to back before starting all over again,
Mary didn’t know whether to praise or curse Jack’s boundless
patience as he lazily stroked her naked skin and curves. No man had
ever taken so much time, so much care with her before. As she
reveled in his caresses, her hunger for him was so strong that she
had to turn and slide her hands into his hair for a deep, heated
kiss.

Oh, but there was something wonderful about a
man who knew when to give a woman what she wanted…and when to give
her what she actually needed. Hard and fast would have been
amazing, but as she realized he wouldn’t be rushed—and that all she
could do was relax into the stroke of his hands, the kisses from
his lips, the gentle scratch of his teeth against her skin—Mary
finally stopped trying to fight, to lead…or to worry.

Gasps of pleasure were followed by moans of
delight as he discovered her secret pleasures inch by inch. Kisses
landed like butterflies across her skin until he was fluttering
them across her lips again. Joy rose up inside her, bigger and
brighter than any happiness she’d known before Jack.

And when he finally moved his fingers between
her legs and Mary tumbled into ecstasy with his name on her lips,
even then he didn’t rush to finish what he’d started. Instead, he
rolled her onto her back and slid his hands over hers to keep her
steady as he came into her so slowly and sweetly that her arousal
heightened all over again from the delicious weight of his body
over hers.

Jack’s heart beat hard against hers, his eyes
dark and full of emotion as he loved her. And in that moment—when
all of her walls fell down and she gave herself to him
completely—Mary knew she loved him right back.

* * *

In the minutes that followed the most
extraordinary lovemaking of Mary’s life, Jack remained levered over
her, his dark gaze not wavering as he stared into her eyes. What,
she wondered, was he thinking as he looked at her the way he was
now?

As if he was seeing her anew…

Reaching instinctively to smooth her hair,
she realized it was knotted behind her head. She’d loved it when
he’d slid his hands into her hair and tangled his fingers in it as
he’d made wild love to her. But in the aftermath of that wildness,
she knew she didn’t look anywhere near her best.

“I should probably go clean up. And then,”
she said with an attempt at an easy smile, “I’ll make us some
breakfast. Do you like eggs?”

“Breakfast can wait.” Jack draped an arm and
a leg over her and held her where she was beneath him. “I’m not
done looking yet.”

Mary tried not to grimace. “I’m sure I look
like a mess.”

As if to confirm her statement, he reached
out to run a finger through her hair, and it got caught on a tangle
as he rolled the lock up around his finger. “You’ve always looked
so perfect,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen you like this, rumpled,
with lines from the pillow on your cheek.”

Her heart sank to her stomach as she realized
her mistake. She’d been so comfortable with Jack, so head over
heels for him and his kisses, that she’d forgotten to keep up the
mystique of being
Mary Ferrer
.

Before Jack, she would have worked to glide
over it with a laugh and a witty comment. But after the sweet
intimacy of lovemaking, her emotions were close enough to the
surface that she said, “It’s a good thing then that I have a big
bag of model’s tricks to make myself
perfect
again.”

Surprise jumped into Jack’s eyes at her
defensive tone. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

Her looks had been her ticket to adventures
all over the world and a glittering career that had exceeded any
expectations she’d had as a girl full of dreams. Even so, sometimes
she hated the fact that keeping that ticket valid meant she had to
spend so much time on keeping up her appearance. She’d never owned
a pair of sweatpants. She’d never gone out for a cup of coffee
without at least some mascara and lipstick.

She would never take what she had for
granted, but if she had known the price it would come with—not just
losing her mother’s love but this endless focus on perfection—she
might have walked more slowly through that childhood door into her
adult life.

Despite everything they’d shared since last
night, did Jack only want to see the perfect version of her? Mary
had to close her eyes against a bolt of pain that hit her at the
thought.

A moment later she felt Jack’s gentle caress
on her cheek.

“Don’t shut me out, Angel. Not now.”

She’d been brave enough to give him her body.
Knowing she should have the courage to answer his questions now,
she made herself meet his gaze head-on.

“You’re right that almost no one has ever
seen me looking like this, or as anything less than the perfect
model they’re expecting to see.”

“Then that makes me the luckiest man in the
world. Which,” he added with a sexy grin that made her heart skip a
beat in her chest, “I already knew.”

But wait—what had he just said?

“Lucky?” she repeated. “But my hair is
knotted and my makeup has rubbed off all over the pillowcase.”

“Every time you’ve been in front of a camera,
I’ve been stunned by your beauty and by how well you do your job.
But getting to see you now, a little messy, all of your stunning
features a little out of focus while you’re still catching your
breath from making love with me—” He picked up one of her hands and
put it over his breastbone. “It does something to me. Right
here.”

Feeling his heart beat strong and steady
against her palm steadied hers, too.

“You’ll always be beautiful to me, Mary.
Especially now.”

His sweet words meant more to her than any
jewel, than any expensive gift, than any poetic words possibly
could have.

No one but Jack had ever truly wanted her the
way she really was.

“You’re right,” she murmured as she wrapped
her naked limbs around his, “breakfast can wait.”

* * *

Unlike most models, Mary ate a healthy diet.
Part of staying slim enough for the camera was genetics. The other
part was that she loved being in motion. Walking, swimming,
dancing…making love. Besides, she loved eating too much to ever
consider giving up delicious food.

But as she sat at her breakfast table across
from Jack an hour later, she couldn’t manage even the tiniest bite
of the eggs, crisp bacon and toast he’d just whipped up for them
while she’d spoken briefly with Janeen on the telephone. Mary
supposed it stood to reason that a bachelor in his early thirties
would have to know how to cook or else he might starve, but this
was a breakfast that under other circumstances she would have
wolfed down.

She’d loved every second in Jack’s arms. He’d
made her feel cherished and safe while giving her pleasure she’d
never known before. She’d never been with a man like Jack, one who
held nothing back, and gave even when he couldn’t guarantee getting
anything in return for himself.

And yet, somehow, she still wasn’t sure what
her next step should be…and she hated herself for it.

But just because she was horribly afraid he
was going to hate her, too, that was no excuse for ignoring the
two-thousand-pound elephant in the room. She’d never been a coward
and she wouldn’t start now, not when she had far too much respect
for Jack to willfully hurt him.

“You mean so much to me,” she began in a soft
voice as she twisted the napkin on her lap, “and last night was
incredible.”

Her breakfast table was small enough that he
could easily reach for her hand. “Being with you made it the best
night of my life,” he told her, his voice gentle and sincere. “But
that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what you said about taking it one
day, and one night, at a time. Or about keeping what’s between us
just for us to know about.”

In her experience, men heard what they wanted
to hear, regardless of what she actually said to them. She’d been
pretty sure by now that Jack was different, but after what they’d
just shared, what man wouldn’t have assumed she’d changed her mind
about going slow and not mixing up business with pleasure if they
could help it?

“I haven’t forgotten what you said, either,
about wanting more than one night.” Even though he didn’t look at
all angry with her, she felt terrible about taking what he’d
offered when she herself had given him so little in return. “I
don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I—”