But he was yanking at his buckle, button, zipper, pants, digging in his pocket for a condom.Yes. This. She reached for him—stiff and hot—as his hips arched off the seat. He covered himself with quick, jerky movements. She stretched her panties out of the way. Grasping her hips, he positioned her above him. His dark gaze, heavy-lidded and intent, caught hers. He pulled her down and impaled her, filling her in one heavy, upward thrust.Oh, hell, yes. Her body closed around him, milking the sensation of him deep inside her, solid and thick inside her.
They were locked and moving together, fused with sweat and heat. She pulsed and steamed. He pumped and thrust, working her with short, strong digs, push and retreat, push and retreat, bringing her to the edge again and again. Her breath sobbed. She labored to rise. Fought to fall. And still he never quite let her go over, holding her off, catching her back, pressing, always pressing.
Until the question he was asking with his body pounded through her, the demand he was making imprinted on her brain, the admission wrung from her flesh.
“I love you.”
And that must have been the confession he wanted, the words he was waiting for.
He slid and held inside her hard, and the echo of her words, the shock of him at the center of her, was enough, was everything. She shuddered and came so hard she saw stars. He held her through the spasms of her release and then took his own while the night tumbled down around them.
Sixteen
LAUREN WASN’T LOOKINGfor commitment. Not after three weeks. But reassurance? Yeah, she could use some of that.
Especially after her blurted admission last night.I love you. She winced.
Especially since Jack hadn’t said it back.
That was okay, she told herself the next morning. She was in touch with her emotions. She’d been honest about her feelings. She wouldn’t take the words back if she could.
But she had never before said them to anyone outside her immediate family. She was having enough trouble processing her own feelings.
Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t have to deal with Jack’s.
At least silence was better than some of the things he could have said. LikeDon’t.OrThank you.OrI love you, too.
She sucked in her breath, suddenly light-headed. Her insides churned. Okay, she definitely wasn’t ready to cope with the implications ofI love you, too.
And Jack had been very solicitous this morning, waking her with a kiss when he got out of the shower, bringing her coffee in bed.
Tiger trotted at his ankles, tail in the air, a bend in the tip making a fuzzy question mark.What are you doing here? What are you doing?
Jack, already in uniform, handed her a mug.
She seized it gratefully. “Thanks.”
He straightened at the foot of the bed, in the center of the room, the only place he could stand fully upright. Looming over her. Her insides clenched and relaxed helplessly.
It wasn’t just the sex and the sunset, she realized with a tremor. Even in the cold light of morning, she was in love with this guarded, principled, complex man with his sharp-edged face and eyes like knives.
His black gaze sought hers. “How are you doing?”
“Great,” she said heartily. At least they’d reached the stage where she packed an overnight bag. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“You could stay.”
She burned her mouth. Gulped. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not due at the bakery until, what, ten? Eleven? Why don’t you take your time this morning? I can swing by later to drive you to work.”
The hot coffee seared its way down. She cleared her throat painfully. “Actually, I asked Jane for the day off so I could work on my book. She’s got one of the catering gals covering for me.”
“You’ve got your laptop with you.”
“Ye-es.” She curled her hands around the warm mug. Where was he going with this?
“So, stay.”
