Too Hot to Handle (11 page)

It was a perfect room, a shrine to Jack created and carefully curated in perpetuity by his doting mother.

Not Honey’s Jack, though. The Jack who lived in Venice Beach, worked long hours, and played pool for penny stakes—that was the Jack she liked. The Jack she was beginning to fall in love with.

This room belonged to a different man, a stranger from the past who would never spend a lazy day in bed with her drinking coffee and reading the
New York Times
. Until a few hours ago, she hadn’t even known that was something she wanted, but now it was all she could think about.

Until he kissed her, and the entire world fell away.

Jack rolled sideways until his back was flat on the bed and stared up at the smooth, white ceiling. “Can’t we just make out?”

“Not a chance.” Honey rolled over on her side, her body curving toward his. A hand reached out. Nimble fingers went to work undoing the buttons on his shirt. “I want a show.”

His lips twitched into a grin. “You’re going to drive me straight into an empty grave.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Never.” Honey might be the death of him, but what a way to go.

Big as life and twice as bold. Honey was more than just some teenage rebellion. She was smart, funny, and quick on her feet. She made him feel alive.

His entire life, he’d been struggling for independence. The fancy car, college education, and career plan his mother had given him when he was younger had all been steel shackles locking him in a single place. So much of what he’d done—dropping out of college, boxing professionally, even becoming a cop—had been an attempt to free himself.

And he had it, finally—the freedom to drop everything and backpack across the country if he wanted to. The freedom to drink too much, stay out all night, or start a fight for the hell of it.

The freedom to be with a woman who’d give outrageous orders, call him on his bluffs, and kick his ass when he was late for dinner.

The final button on his shirt popped open. To take it off, he’d have to stand up. He’d have to give in to her demands.

During all that time spent earning his independence, he’d never promised a woman anything past the next few weeks. Being a cop didn’t leave much room for dating. But maybe they could try it out. Walks on the beach, laughing in the rain, and beers on Saturday night with her cousins.

He’d just have to make sure not to run their names for any open warrants.

It wasn’t the life he’d planned when he signed up for the police force, and it certainly wasn’t the life he’d dreamed about when he’d stared up at his bedroom ceiling so many years earlier. He’d wanted to be a pirate. But the idea of having Honey next to him in bed for the foreseeable future was gaining appeal with every passing second.

The aches and pangs he’d been feeling most of the afternoon disappeared, replaced with energy that popped and fizzled in his veins like good champagne.

He turned to face Honey. “If I’m going to do this, I need some music.”

By the time he levered himself off the bed, Honey was already moving toward the stereo. He dropped his jacket to the ground, undid his shoulder holster, and placed his gun carefully on top of his bedside table. Then he waited, patiently, for the music to start.

After a few minutes, he heard the thrum of an electric guitar. Supple fingers spun across the volume dial, turning the music up until it was pounding in his head. Standing ten feet away, waiting to see him strip off his clothes, Honey bobbed her head up and down in time with the beat. Fire-colored hair and a fire-engine-colored bathing suit. The combination was spectacular. When she shimmied, her breasts floated up and down. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

He couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t stop him from being able to smell the smoke that clung to her hair and the hint of citrus she always carried on her skin.

So much sex appeal packed into one tidy container. If she kept moving like that, he’d explode.

A hot-blooded rock anthem blasted through the stereo system, his pulse pounding in time. His already unbuttoned shirt came off, dropping to the floor. He kicked his shoes into the corner, trying to concentrate on the way his body moved.

Honey wanted a dance, and he wasn’t about to let her down.

His hips rotated in time to the music, the fast beat like the rumbas he’d learned during ballroom dance lessons at the country club. He’d hated those lessons. At eleven years old, he’d been a foot shorter than all of the girls, and his fancy shoes always pinched.

Honey watched him, her gaze strong, steady. Wandering across the bedroom floor, she tried to mimic his actions. One step forward, one step to the left, a step back, and a step to the right. A neat box step made exotic by the sway of her hips. “Like this?”

“That’s the man’s part,” Jack murmured. “The aggressor.”

He reached out with his right hand to touch her waist, guiding her until they were moving together. “The man pushes forward, and the woman takes him. That’s what my dance teacher taught me.”

“Hmm.” Honey’s hands dropped down to move at his waist, unbuckling his belt. “What if I want to push?”

Damn, she was beautiful. Her crazy red curls floating in the air.

“Honey.” He leaned forward, so that when he spoke, his lips brushed her cheek. He kissed her softly, waiting for her to make the next move before drawing her tongue in to his.

For a long while they stayed like that, kissing and dancing in his childhood bedroom as the music changed. Then his hand dipped to run across her tight butt. He pushed his fingers underneath her red spandex bathing suit. “How do you take this off?”

“One sharp tug.”

The suit wasn’t the only thing that got off that way. The way Honey’s hands were moving between them, unzipping his pants and running along the length of his cock, all it would take was one sharp tug to finish him.

That was fine, but he wanted to do something first.

His free hand moved up, skimming her body, to pull the bathing suit’s straps off her shoulders. He was supposed to be the one getting undressed, but she didn’t object when he pulled the suit down and tossed it aside. His hand came to rest on her belly, fingers curling possessively through naturally red curls. He could hear her sharp intake of breath in the pause between songs.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Jack lied. His thumb reached down, stroking her.

“Please,” she begged.

Please,
for the second time in as many days. The word made his heart beat faster in his chest. It made him want her even more.

“I want to feel you inside me. I need to feel you—” A ragged gasp escaped her lips as his hand’s easy motion slowed, his fingers resting near her innermost crevices. “Oh, god.” She moaned, half to herself. “I need to sit down. I need—” A sharp swallow. “I need something to lean on.”

“Lean on me.”

Her legs shook. Her knees were weak. He held her steady, wrapping one arm around her waist. He watched her face, the sharp intake of breath, the way her lips bowed and her eyelids fluttered as he brought her almost to the precipice, over and over again.

Sex with Honey was going to be amazing—almost unimaginably so—but first he wanted to hold her. To watch her face as he brought her over the edge.

Sharp nails dug into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but Jack held still. Every move was slow, savoring her desire and the way she moaned with delight as his fingers moved deeper inside her.

When she finally came in a flood of ecstasy, her pleasure blocked out the music.

…

Hard muscles bulged as Jack stood, lifting her easily, and carried her over to the bed. He’d taken off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, but a soft white tank top still clung to his chest. Unacceptable. This entire exercise was supposed to have been about giving her a chance to look at his body.

It was also supposed to let him know that she was in control. He could bark orders all day long, telling her it was for her own safety, but when it got right down to it, he had to listen to what she wanted.

Instead, he’d turned everything upside down. Again.

Her throat went dry watching the way his arms moved as he reached down to pull off his pants. Tanned skin pulled tight, revealing solid muscles. Arms had never done it for her before. She liked looking at a man’s chest, his butt, but arms were different. They were just appendages hanging off a torso.

Except when she looked at Jack’s arms, thinking about the way they’d held her the night before, lust shot through her body like lightning.

Then there were his hands. Strong hands with lean, supple fingers, capable of running gently across her body or digging in tight to hold her.

With his pants on the floor, his cock sprang free, long and hard beneath his boxers. Her eyes widened. “That’s not going to fit.”

“Thanks for the compliment, babe. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Sure.” But she wasn’t. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the afterglow from her orgasm. She waited a beat.

Nothing happened.

“What’s the hold up?”

“This is the bedroom I had when I was a kid.”

She was definitely losing the afterglow. If he didn’t start moving soon, she’d have to take matters into her own hands. “I’m aware.”

“I stay here sometimes after family dinners or tournaments at the country club.”

“Uh-huh. What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”

“You’re the first woman I’ve brought back here. I don’t have any condoms.”

Damn. Honey’s eyes fluttered open. Damn, damn, double damn. “You don’t have any condoms?”

“No.” An edge of desperation colored his voice. “What about you? Do you have one?”

“Are you kidding? How would I have a condom? It’s a miracle I have pants.” She stood up and made a decision. “I don’t care.”

The statement was bold, reckless, and impulsive. It was also true. She wanted to feel him inside of her, and damn the consequences. “I need you. Now.”

“You need to watch what you’re saying.”

Temptation made her open her mouth. A single word of encouragement, and he’d break a land speed record pulling off his boxers and burying himself deep inside her.

It was everything she wanted, and he was giving her the chance to turn him away. The chance to do the smart thing, the right thing, even if those navy boxers showed her exactly how much he wanted to do otherwise.

She closed her mouth and swallowed, hard.

Kneeling down in front of him, Honey reached out. Her fingers curled into the waistband of his shorts, dragging him forward.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jack asked, his voice rough.

“Whatever I want.” Honey grinned. “Necessity is the mother of invention.”

She gave the boxers a sharp tug, pulling them down. This was what she’d wanted to see when she’d asked him to strip for her. It was rock-hard and solid, with a slight curve at the tip. So inviting. She wrapped her hand around his girth, feeling him twitch.

“I don’t want you to miss out on the fun,” she said.

“Honey, I have fun every time you smile. Baby—” He groaned.

Honey liked that. She’d never been someone’s baby before.

She leaned forward, licking the taut skin. A tiny droplet escaped from the head, and her tongue darted out to catch it. The salty tang made her lips turn upward into a smile.

All of her boyfriends had asked her to do this, and she’d always said no. There was something about the way they asked that was too commanding. Giving in would mean letting them know they’d won, that they were in charge. But Jack hadn’t asked.

That, more than anything, warmed her heart.

His fingers ran through her hair, pushing her head down closer to him. She licked her lips, moistening them carefully, then dropped her hands to her side and took him inside her mouth until he hit the back of her throat.

For a moment, it was too much. He was too large, and she was too inexperienced. Then he began to pump—once, twice—and she lost herself in his momentum. Time dragged on around them, but for Honey it was all happening so fast.

A low groan. He was almost there.

Honey couldn’t stand it anymore. She pulled away.

“Was—” Jack swallowed, struggling to control his breathing. “Was I being too rough?”

“You were just right.” Her voice wavered slightly. She stood until she faced him straight on, her eyes level with his muscular chest. Another moment, and she’d lose her nerve. “I need you inside me.”

“Honey—”

“Don’t talk. I’m clean. I’m on birth control. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I am. So, just—”

What? Have sex with her, ignoring all the possible consequences?