See Jane Score (20 page)

She grabbed his wrists. “I'm not the sort of woman who inspires lust in a man like you.”

This time he did laugh. He couldn't help it. He had a hard-on that proved her wrong. “Ever since that first morning on the team jet when I looked back and saw you, I've been wondering what you look like naked.” He slid one hand down her throat to the buttons closing her blouse. “You've driven me crazy ever since.” The tips of his fingers brushed her bare skin and some sort of silky material as he popped the buttons. “Inspiring all sorts of things, but especially lust.” His head dipped and he kissed the shell of her ear. “A whole lot of lustful thoughts and dirty fantasies that would shock you.”

He tugged the ends of her blouse from her pants and he looked down at a silky camisole. “The other night when I walked by and saw you in the media lounge, I fantasized about throwing you up on the table and doing you right there on top of the dessert trays.”

“Sounds . . . messy.”

“And fun. I thought about all the interesting places I'd get to lick you clean.”

She sounded as if she were holding her breath when she said, “I thought you don't eat sugar.”

He laughed. “I want to eat yours,” he said as he kissed the crook of her neck. “Does that shock you, little Jane?”

Jane held back a moan threatening deep within her chest. He was shocking her, but not like he thought. That he fantasized about her at all, let alone in the press room, was a huge shock. His warm breath on the side of her throat sent shivers up her spine and his hand slipping across her silk camisole spread heat across her flesh. Warmth pooled in and between her legs. Her nipples puckered painfully tight and she squeezed her thighs together. She wanted him. She wanted him so much, her vison was getting blurry and she could hardly breathe. Oh, yes, she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she was afraid where all the wanting would lead. If it were just a matter of sex, she would have been naked by now. He'd be naked too, but it was more. At least for her it was. No matter how she wished it otherwise, her heart
was
involved.

She took a shallow breath and parted her lips to tell him that she couldn't do this, that she had to go home now, but his big hand closed over her breast, heating her skin through the silk material, and he whispered in her ear, “Jane, I want you.” Then his mouth sought hers and the warm male scent of him filled her nose and she breathed him deep into her lungs. He smelled like clean skin and he tasted like sex.

From nineteen floors below, a fire engine sped past and the real world slipped away, taking the last of her reserve with it. Her sanity gone, she grabbed his sweater in her fists and held tight. She wanted Luc as much as he wanted her. Maybe more, and she would worry about the repercussions later. Now all she cared about was his hand brushing her nipple through the silk of her camisole and his hot wet kisses that left her mind numb and her body aching. A defeated moan came from her own throat as she kissed him back, devouring him with a passion bigger than her ability to hold it back any longer. Her inhibitions and reason burned to ash within the hot overwhelming need to have wild and wicked sex with Luc Martineau.

Her mouth fed him kisses, and she pushed herself onto her knees and straddled his lap. She was lost, completely lost to sensations bigger than her. She pulled his sweater and T-shirt up his chest and their hungry mouths parted just long enough for her to pull it over his head. Then her hands were on him. Touching everywhere she could reach. His hard shoulders and chest. Her fingers brushed his skin and slid down his sternum. Then she sat, and the hard length of him pressed into her. Through the material of her pants and his, Luc warmed her flesh with his hot erection. Her heart pounded in her chest and ears and she pressed harder against him as he shoved his pelvis into her. She slipped her hands to his flat belly and he grasped her wrists.

“Damn,” he said, his voice strained, his breathing rapid. “Slow down or I'll never make it until I'm inside of you. As it is, I'll probably only last five seconds.”

She'd take it. Five seconds of Luc sounded better than anything else she'd had in a very long time. Better than anything she would ever have again.

Luc pushed her blouse from her shoulders and down her arms. He tossed it on the floor, then he stared at her thin silk camisole. His heavy-lidded eyes were slightly glazed. “Is this what you wear instead of a bra?”

She shook her head and ran her hands across his warm shoulders and chest. “Sometimes I don't even wear this.” Through her lust haze, she thought back on which thong she'd pulled on earlier, and she thanked God she'd done laundry and had on something decent.

“I remember,” he groaned. “Knowing you walk around without half your underwear has been getting me in trouble.” His big hands circled her waist and he lifted her to her knees, then he leaned forward to bury his face in her stomach. He pushed up the silk material and his warm breath heated her flesh as he spoke. “Take this off,” he said, then placed wet kisses on her abdomen.

Jane pulled the camisole over her head and dropped it on the couch beside her. Luc spread his fingers wide along her ribs and leaned his head back to look at her. His hot gaze touched her breasts and he took in a heavy breath, but he didn't say a word.

Jane sat in his lap once more and felt compelled to speak for him. “I'm not quite what you're used to,” she said and covered herself with her palms.

“Big breasts can be a big disappointment. You're beautiful, Jane. Better than my fantasies.” He grasped her wrists and shoved them behind her, arching her back and bringing her breasts close to his face. “I've waited a long time to see you like this. To do this,” he said as his breath whispered against her aching nipple. Then he softly sucked her inside his hot wet mouth. He let go of her wrists, and her hands found the sides of his head and she held him there.

His cheeks drew inward as the suction he created intensified. The backs of his knuckles brushed her belly, and he unbuttoned the waistband of her pants, then he pushed his hand inside. He cupped her crotch though her red lace thong and she moaned with pleasure.

“You're wet, Jane,” he said low in his throat as he pushed aside her tiny panties and touched her hot slick flesh. It would have been so easy just to succumb right there. To let him stroke her to orgasm. It wouldn't have taken much more and she would have been gone, but she didn't want to orgasm by herself, she wanted him to come with her.

“No more,” she said and grabbed his wrist. He slid his hand up her stomach to her breast, and his fingers played with her, spreading moisture across her nipple. He followed with his mouth. A sound of intense male pleasure, primal and possessive, rumbled deep in his throat, pushing her so close to the edge she feared she would orgasm with nothing more than his mouth on her breast.

“Stop.”

He leaned his head back and looked at her, his gaze totally gone with passion. “Tell me what you want.”

There was a lot she wanted, but since she might never get this chance again, she said, “I want to lick your tattoo.”

He blinked several times as if hadn't quite heard her, then he spread his arms.

Jane slid from his lap and pulled him to his feet. She kicked off her shoes and socks and her pants followed. Standing in just her thong, she kissed his shoulder and chest. She ran her hands over his hard muscles and kissed a trail downward. Then she knelt before him, hooked her hands in the waistband of his pants, and brought his flat belly to her face. She licked the heels of the tattoo and tasted his flesh on her tongue. “I've been wondering how big your horseshoe is,” she whispered as she kissed his navel. “I've wanted to do this for so long.”

“You should have asked before now. I would have let you.” He ran his fingers through her hair and pushed it from her face. “Next time, you don't even have to ask.”

She smiled against his belly and she would have bitten him if his skin hadn't been tight as a drum. She unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down his hips and thighs. He stood before her, his black horseshoe disappearing beneath his white briefs. An impressive erection filled out the clean white cotton, and she kissed him through his underwear. Then she pushed the underwear down his legs. Freed, he jutted toward her, and she noticed that the toe of the horseshoe disappeared beneath his pubic hair and went clear to the base of his penis. A ribbon was tattooed just above his dark blond pubic hair and was tied from one side of the horseshoe to the other.
LUCKY
was written across it in bold black ink.

She laughed and kissed the hot velvet tip. “You don't want me to ask to do this?”

His response was a strangled, “No!”

For the first time since he'd kissed her, she felt the power shift to her, and she was in control. She took as much of him as she could into her mouth and tested the weight of his testicles in her palm. She'd never done this for a man during their first time together, fearing it would set a bad precedent, but with Luc, she didn't care. She wanted to do it. Not for him but for her. And no matter how it hurt and would kill her later, she knew there was no future with Luc. No precedent to set. She would take all that she could of him. She was Honey Pie. She'd try her hardest to put him into a coma.

Luc grasped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He brought his face to hers and his tongue ravished her mouth. His hands slid to her behind and he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hard naked flesh pressed into her through her thong panties and he kicked free of his pants and briefs. He fed her hungry kisses as they moved from the living room down the hall to his dark bedroom. Light from the massive windows spilled across the big bed, and he gently laid her across the deep blue quilt. She raised herself on her elbows and watched him move through the shadows. A drawer to a nightstand slid open and then he was before her.

“I'm thinking I might have to apologize before we get busy,” he said as he rolled a latex condom over the plump head and down the thick shaft.

She pushed her panties from her legs and tossed them. Light from outside poured over one side of his face. “Why?”

He covered her with his warm body and rested his weight on his elbows. “Because I don't think I can last very long.”

Then she felt the head of his penis, smooth and hard and hot, and she didn't think he had to worry, because she wasn't likely to last long herself. He slid partway into her, and her body resist-ed the intrusion. She placed her hands on his shoulders to stop him and he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Then he withdrew and pushed a little farther inside.

“You're so tight around me,” he gasped. She sucked in a breath, his breath, as he pulled out almost completely, only to bury himself so deep she felt him against her cervix. A deep groan tore through his chest and echoed around her heart.

She wrapped one leg around his back. “Luc,” she whispered as he began to move, setting a perfect rhythm of pleasure. “Mmm, that feels good.”

With his face just above hers, he asked, “How do you want it?”

“Just like you're giving it to me.” His athlete's body—toned and trained to go the distance—strained, and his harsh breath brushed her face. Every cell in her body was focused on the shaft pounding into her body.

“More?”

“Yes. Give me more,” she gasped, and he gave it to her. Faster, harder, and more intense. Over and over, his harsh breath brushing her cheek as he drove her farther up the bed. And just when she didn't think she could take any more, she cried out and her hands curled into fists. Her climax so exquisite she saw and heard nothing over the pounding of her heart and the rushing of sensation across her flesh. The fire he ignited deep inside flushed her body, and her inner muscles clenched and drew him deeper until he too climaxed. An explosion of curses were torn from his throat.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Not until their breathing slowed and their heart rates returned to normal. Luc withdrew from her and moved from the bed to the bathroom. Cool air rushed over Jane's heated skin as she watched him go, walking through the variegated shadows. Her mind was still too numb to think about what she'd just done, but her heart knew. She loved Luc Martineau with a frightening intensity.

When she heard the toilet flush, she looked toward the bathroom door. Luc walked toward her, naked and beautiful within the panels of light falling across the bedroom. Looking at him, her chest got tight as if she were having a heart attack.

“What time did you need to leave?” he asked as he joined her on the bed.

Reality intruded like a bucket of cold water. He hadn't even waited for her afterglow to fade. She'd just had mind-blowing sex, and he was ready for her to go. She sat up and looked around for her underwear, hoping like hell she didn't do something mortifying like burst into tears before she got out the door. “I don't have a curfew.” As modestly as possible given that she was naked, she scooted on her stomach to the far edge of the bed and looked over the side. No panties. “If I can just find my underwear, I'll get out of here. I'm sure you need your rest for tomorrow night's game.”

He grabbed her ankle and pulled her across the bed toward him again. “Second string's between the pipes tomorrow night, and I asked because I want you to stay.”