Slow Hands (11 page)

Thank goodness.

He returned his focus to the road. “Just so we’re clear, I’m also not hiding any unpleasant conditions. I have to get routine physicals, it’s part of the job, and I am entirely healthy.”

She didn’t really want to talk about his job, or even think about it.
This is personal
, she reminded herself. So she simply replied, “Great.” Then, since fair was fair, added, “For the record, I’m absolutely fine, too.”

He grinned and winked, breaking the awkward moment. “Yes, indeed, you are, Ms. Turner. Absolutely
fine
.”

Then there was nothing left. No barriers. No excuses. No doubts. They’d reached her building and he was pulling into her private parking space in the underground garage. Their next stop would be the elevator, and then her penthouse apartment.

After that, a night in the arms of the kind of lover women competed for. Dreamed about.

And for this one night, he was entirely hers.

T
HOUGH HE RECOGNIZED
the exclusive high-rise building, and had been warned by Maddy’s comments about her bed and her bathtub, Jake hadn’t really been prepared for the opulence of her home.

First of all, only in movies had he ever seen keyed elevators that opened directly into private apartments. He didn’t think they actually existed.

Not that he’d really been paying attention until the doors had quietly swished open with a subdued ding. Because from the moment they’d gotten into the elevator down in the garage, he’d had his hand on Maddy’s soft ass and his mouth on the side of her neck.

The scent of her warm brown hair and her sweet skin had intoxicated him and he’d been unable to resist moving behind her, grinding into her, reaching around to press his hand onto her stomach and pull her hard against him.

They’d
both
been distracted then. She’d lifted her arm behind her to drape it around his neck, holding him in place. Arching back against his erection, she’d groaned with a kind of raw, primal pleasure that told him she might just like this particular position with her clothes
off.

Mmm.

That could definitely be arranged, though not until he’d had her face-to-face, breath-to-breath first. He wanted to watch her eyes as he slowly sank into her, wanted to feel her gasps, hear the little hitch in her throat as she whimpered at how good it felt.

After that…well, he couldn’t even begin to list the ways he wanted this woman.

He’d envisioned most of them on the way up. Then they’d reached her floor, the doors had opened, and he felt as though he’d stepped into a designer furniture store where Oprah shopped up on the Magnificent Mile.

The entryway was tiled with what he’d speculate was Italian marble, not that he’d ever seen it. But he doubted they’d allow the fake stuff in this building.

Tall, graceful vases with a profusion of perfectly placed, enormous white flowers stood on either side of the foyer, providing an almost snowy, winter welcome. Right in the middle of June.

Beyond lay a plushly carpeted, sunken living area. More vases and flowers stood sentry throughout. Big, gold-leaf framed mirrors sent his own reflection back to him a dozen times. Several pieces of expensive-looking, froufrou art were on display, discreetly placed fixtures flooding them with light from just the right angle.

A huge white leather sofa looked too pristine to sit on, and he’d probably have to sell his truck to replace the marble-topped coffee table if he dared leave a drink ring on it.

The place was unbelievably elegant. Dripping with expensive furnishings. Beautiful. Rich-looking.

And about as cold a room as he’d ever seen.

Entirely suitable for the ice princess of the financial district. But not for the woman who’d grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him up against the wall outside that pub to kiss the lips right off his face.

Maddy was watching him, having stepped inside ahead of him to punch a few buttons on a security alarm panel. There was a glimmer of hesitation in her expression, as if she really cared what he thought about her home.
Why
she’d care about the opinion of a blue-collar rescue worker, whose single piece of art in his apartment was an eight-by-ten framed picture of a Dalmatian on a fire truck, he had no idea.

“Well?”

“Wow.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist and stared at the room, obviously noting his unenthusiastic response. “My sister decorated it for me,” she whispered. “I just don’t have the knack for that sort of thing. Or the vision.”

That figured. From what he’d heard so far, he had absolutely no interest in ever meeting the sister. Especially not if she envisioned
this
when she looked at Maddy, whom she obviously did not really know at all.

“Great view,” he mumbled, meaning that. She did have an amazing view of the magnificently lit Chicago skyline. One entire wall of windows ran the width of the living room, laying out the city below as if he was looking at a galaxy of stars from above.

She perked up, smiling broadly. “Isn’t it? That’s why I bought it. Well, that and the bathroom.”

Bought it. She
owned
this icy masterpiece. Not her father, not her family. She didn’t just rent it. The woman he’d taken out for wings and beer had enough money to actually
purchase
a place like this.

He’d known that. Logically, he’d known. Still, the meaning of it had at last completely sunk in.

His feet suddenly felt leaden. For the first time since the moment they’d met, Jake felt the slightest bit intimidated. Uneasy at the stark, irrefutable evidence of how different they were.

There was no way he could keep up with this. Nor would he ever even want to try.

“What’s wrong?”

He threw off the momentary uneasiness. Tomorrow, maybe he’d think about how unsuited they were for one another. Tonight, well, they were perfectly suited in the only way that
really
mattered. He’d could definitely keep up with her in other ways.

Starting in her bedroom.

“Nothing.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “So where is this three-man bathtub?”

“Hey, none of that kinky stuff,” she reminded him with a saucy wink. Then she turned and sashayed down the hall, kicking her cute, strappy sandals off her feet midstride, as if not wanting to waste time once they reached the bed.

He followed, not in any hurry, because they had all night, but still unable to stop himself from lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor with her shoes.

She led him into a darkened room, flipped on the light, and spun around to gauge his reaction. But when she saw him standing there in just his soft, low-slung jeans, she froze as if she’d never seen a man’s body before.

“Oh, my God.”

The sexy woman actually licked her lips while her gaze greedily roamed over his bare chest and shoulders. She looked even hungrier than she had when their waitress had deposited a pile of nachos in front of her tonight.

“I never imagined,” she whispered, lifting her hand toward him. She didn’t step closer, merely scraping the tip of one finger down his throat, until reaching the hollow of his throat. There it remained, connected by the tiniest strand of static-charged air to his raging pulse. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful man.”

Jake half groaned and half laughed.

“I mean it. You’re beautiful. You should be on display somewhere, dipped in bronze. You’re so hard, so strong.” She ran her hand down his chest, letting her pink-tinged nails rake lightly across his abs. She didn’t pause, caressing him until she reached the waistband of his jeans, which hung low on his hips. Visibly swallowing, she added, “Yet so lean, too.”

“You’re killing me. You know this, right?”

She ignored him. “I’d pictured…when I went to the auction, I’d figured you’d be skinny. Elegant. Not…not like
this
.”

He barked a harsh laugh. Skinny he was not. And elegant he’d never tried to be. “I work out sometimes. Not out of vanity, out of necessity.”

There was no way Jake would put somebody’s life at risk by letting himself get too out of shape to do his job. He lifted gurneys—usually with heavy bodies on them—every single day. He squeezed into small spaces in collapsed buildings, he often hauled around some backbreakingly heavy equipment. Those things mattered—possibly enough to be the difference between life and death to an injured person. Staying in top physical condition was an absolute requirement for his own safety and for that of others.

“Is it a necessity that your shoulders are as broad as my legs are long?”

He chuckled, glancing down at those delicate, sexy legs, in such perfect proportion to the rest of her, despite her claim that they were too short. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.” Then he reached for her hips, cupped them and drew her close. “But I’m willing to examine them, up close and personal, just to make sure.”

“I’d hate to ask such a sacrifice of you.”

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy.”

Maddy, who’d been inching closer as they engaged in the light, verbal foreplay, tilted her head back and watched him intently. “You are, aren’t you.”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

She shook her head. “You’re a contradiction, that’s all. I don’t know that I understand you.”

“Understand this.” He said nothing more, bending down to cover her mouth with his. Slipping his hands into her hair to cup her head, he licked her lips, demanding access.

Maddy opened for him, her tongue meeting with his in a warm, slow exploration. Different from the crazy-hot kiss outside the pub. Different…but just as good.

Their bodies melted together in fluid grace, rather than heated, crazed grinding. Her softness cradled every hard place on him, molding to his chest, his groin, his thighs. Every delicate curve offered warmth and welcome and pure feminine invitation.

“Jake…” she whispered against his mouth, though he knew she had nothing to say. Nothing that really needed to be said.

They’d talked a lot since they’d met. Now it was time for their bodies to do all the communicating.

Reaching for the bottom of her pink top, Jake tugged it free of her waistband, sliding it up with agonizing restraint. He didn’t look, didn’t trust himself to
see
her yet and not completely lose control. He concentrated instead on kissing her temple, tracing her high cheekbone with his mouth, kissing his way to the lobe of her ear. And continuing to pull that fabric up, inch by inch, allowing only the tips of his fingers the pleasure of contact with her warm, soft skin.

She was gasping, her choppy breaths hitting his neck as she twisted against his hands. “Please.”

“Mmm, hmm,” he replied, not giving her the frenzy she wanted. She might have been calling the shots back outside the pub. But for now, their first time, he was taking control.

He liked it slow. And intended to make her slow down, too. He wanted Maddy to accept every ounce of pleasure he could give her rather than rushing them both directly toward that precipice and leaping over it.

“You have the softest skin I have ever felt,” he murmured.

“Yours is rough,” she whispered, her voice throaty, hungry. Rubbing her face against his lightly grizzled jaw, she shivered and added, “Deliciously rough.”

“Not too rough for your cheek?”

She shook her head, wordless, mindless, as if afraid to distract him from the unhurried, steady progress he was making with her shirt. He’d reached the bottom edges of her bra now. Remembering their earlier encounter, his mind flooded with the image of that hot pink lace barely covering those magnificent mounds and luscious, taut nipples.

“Not too rough for your neck, either?” He moved there, kissing his way down her throat, pressing his mouth to the hollow.

She shook her head again. Lifting her hands to his head, she twined her fingers in his hair. Jake edged away just enough to smooth her top all the way up, his palms skimming against the sides of her breasts, then all the way along her upraised arms. He disentangled the fabric from her long, thick hair, then tossed it aside.

Looking down at her, he muttered a silent prayer for strength, picturing the endless ways he wanted to savor these twin things of beauty, barely contained by their lacy covering. Oh,
so
many ways.
Soon.

“What about here?” he asked, easing down her body. “Too rough here, sweetheart?” He slowly dropped to his knees in front of her, letting his mouth skim past the very center of the pretty, frilly bra until he reached the vulnerable skin of her midriff.

She hitched a sigh. It turned into a moan when Jake rubbed his cheek there, licking at the tender, pale spot where hot pink lace met hot creamy woman.

“That’s…that’s fine…”

“Good. So I’m guessing this is okay, too.” He edged lower, kissing his way down her belly, dipping his tongue into the small indentation for a taste, then going down to her waistband. She made no effort to stop him as he unbuttoned, unzipped, then pushed her pants down, letting his cheek come in contact with more of her body as it was revealed.

“That is
definitely
okay.”

More than okay for him. Especially as he drew back enough to watch her cropped pants fall away. That left her clad in a miniscule pair of panties. A patch of pink fabric danced over the dark curls he saw shadowed between her legs, and a thin, lacy string looped over each full hip.

He rubbed and nibbled and licked his way along them, around to her hip, almost groaning as he saw how little there was in the back. Little? Make that nothing.

Thong. Oh yeah
.

He had to reach out and touch with his hands, cupping her full cheeks and squeezing. “Incredible. Don’t you
ever
let me hear you say you want to change this body again.”

The way her legs shook and her hips moved in tiny, nearly imperceptible thrusts told him what she wanted. More intimate touches. More intimate kisses.