If She Dares (Contemporary Romance) (11 page)

Desire pulsed at her core, and she realized how difficult it was going to be not to squirm or shift her weight, not to do anything that might bring some relief from the mounting need. She tried to focus on something besides sex, watching Jack as he held up a pencil horizontally, as if using the line to gauge proportions or find the center of his composition. Then he lowered his hand about three inches and paused again, still gauging. Until, finally, he began to draw.

As Riley sat, working to keep still, she entered a nearly meditative state, all of her senses heightened, amplifying the moment. The
skritch skritch
of the pencil across the thick paper was an uneven percussion to Jack’s sighs and inhalations. She became so aware of his breathing she could even tell when he was holding his breath, struggling to get something the way he wanted it. As he’d predicted, the air around her was chillier without the protection of the robe, but her skin was so flushed with arousal that she welcomed the kiss of coolness on her body. The leather beneath her was almost buttery soft, but she found that frustrating. She craved friction. She missed the slightly roughened rasp of Jack’s fingers. She wanted the crisp hair of his male body against her smoothness.

She let everything she was imagining show on her face, made no effort to mask how badly she wanted him inside her. He glanced up from a spot he was smudging with a small square of cloth. His eyes met hers, and he froze.

When he went back to drawing, the movement of his hand was almost frantic.

“Done,” he declared a few minutes later. “I mean, it’s rough, and it needs more negative space, but... Hold on.” He disappeared into her kitchen, and she heard the sink running and the rip of paper towel off the dispenser. She imagined charcoal could be a messy medium and understood why he’d wash his hands afterward.

Still, she grinned privately at the thought of him touching her with stained, smudged hands, leaving fingerprints along her pale skin and private places, each mark a small proclamation—
Jack was here
.

“Want to see it?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. After she’d been sitting here this whole time, he must know her curiosity was killing her.

He brought the sketchbook over and sat on the corner of the ottoman. There wasn’t really room for both of them, but she reveled in the nearness—the scent of him and the brush of his jeans against her thigh. For a moment she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the drawing. It was possible she’d look at it and all she’d be able to see were the images playing through her mind.

But she was underestimating Jack’s talent. Because the picture was compelling. It was weirdly intimate, looking at the curve of her own spine and flare of her hips as they rounded into her butt. But despite his grace capturing the human form, what stood out most was her partially shadowed profile. Her lips were full and parted, and the expression he’d captured... It was perhaps the most beautiful she’d ever looked, but she knew immediately she never wanted anyone else to see it. It felt excruciatingly private.

“For you.” He handed her the paper. “It’s not perfect—”

“Neither am I.” The portrait had some dark places and rough patches, but she thought that appropriate. She reached for his hand and pressed a kiss to the tips of his fingers. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She darted her tongue out, circling the tip of his index finger. “Want to do something for
my
pleasure?”

Watching her from hooded eyes, he pushed his finger forward, and she sucked it into her mouth. A shudder went through his body. “What did you have in mind?”

She bent forward to retrieve the sash from her robe then got to her feet. “Come with me.”

His smile was pure sin. “That’s the plan.”

The promise in his voice only added to her rush to get him into her bedroom.

Behind her, Jack chuckled. “I know the sooner I catch up, the sooner I get to touch you. On the other hand, from back here, I get to enjoy the glorious view of your ass.”

Framed in the doorway of her room, she gave him an impish smile. “So you’d rather stand there ogling than let me tie you to my bed?”

He was at her side a second later, arms wrapped around her as their mouths came together in a hot, tumultuous kiss. He surprised her by lifting her straight off the ground without his mouth ever leaving hers, and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. Once he set her down, she shoved the shirt off his shoulders. While he was wriggling free of the sleeves, she reached for the fly of his jeans. He sucked in a breath when her hand brushed over the bulge beneath the fabric.

She rocked back on her heels, watching as he shimmied out of the jeans. “What happened last night... I was thinking that, if you’ll let me use this,” she threaded the belt from her robe through the wooden slats of her headboard, “then you’re free to enjoy everything we do without worrying about any triggers. And so am I.”

“Right now, gorgeous, I’ll let you do just about any damn thing you want.”

In just his boxer briefs, he joined her on the bed. He lay back against the pillows, tugging her to him for more kisses. She tilted her head, closing her eyes as he trailed his lips up the side of her neck to the delicate shell of her ear. She shivered. God, she’d forgotten how sensitive she was there.

“You have full permission to restrain my hands,” he said, eyes twinkling. “But before you do...?” His hands traveled down the sides of her breasts, and she arched into his touch. He caught one tip between his thumb and forefinger, and she whimpered her encouragement; he pinched lightly, and a spasm of pleasure rocked through her.

“W-wait.” If she let him continue, she’d be too caught up to enact her own fantasy.

As promised, he cooperated. He let go of her and obligingly put his hands above his head. She knelt, leaning across him to tie the belt around his wrists. Her breasts brushed within an inch of his face, and he raised his head from the pillow, lashing a nipple with his tongue.

Deciding that turnabout was fair play, she scooted down so that she could return the favor. He groaned her name. They both knew he could free his hands if he wanted to, but she trusted him to give her this moment. The sense of control, while mostly illusion, was a heady aphrodisiac, the polar opposite of what she’d felt during her anxiety attack last night.
I am in charge
,
free to enjoy this man
at my leisure
.

She kissed her way from his chest to the indentation of his navel. The closer she got to the heavy erection jutting to meet her, the more labored his breathing became. Smiling to herself, she veered to the left, trailing kisses toward his hip while she scraped her nails along his inner thighs. But as intoxicating as it was to tease him—to tease both of them—she desperately wanted to touch him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, and he bucked into her palm. He was like steel. And he was
big
. Given her long stretch of abstinence, she might have worried about discomfort except that she was so wet for him. More than ready.

But she wasn’t quite done fulfilling her fantasy. Positioning herself across the lower half of his body so that her breasts fell on either side of his erection, she pushed them together with her hands, cradling him while she leaned down to swirl her tongue over the velvety head. He swore reverently, thrusting against her. Deciding she wanted more, she slid her hand down the length of him, encircled the base of his erection and took him fully in her mouth. His hips came off the mattress, and the headboard made a creak of protest at the force of his grip.

It struck her that, at this rate, he’d break the slats before he broke his promise not to touch her. Affection welled inside her, making the desire she felt for this man even more poignant. She scrambled up the bed to reach the condoms she’d placed in her nightstand this afternoon.

His eyes were wild as he watched her tear open the packet and unroll the latex over him. She straddled him, lowering herself slowly. But Jack’s control had snapped. He flexed his hips, surging upward, impaling her, and she gasped at the sensation.

“Do that again,” she pleaded, already raising herself off him, holding her breath in anticipation for— “Oh,
yes
.”

She pressed her palms to the mattress on either side of him to give herself leverage as their bodies crashed together over and over in fierce, relentless pleasure. The combination of exquisite sensation and a sharp, spiraling need for more left her nearly mindless. Dimly aware she was chanting his name, along with other words that might not even make sense, she arched and twisted above him, chasing the climax that was so tantalizingly close.

Waves of ecstasy were building like a storm about to break. She could feel herself tightening around him. Tremors started deep within her then exploded outward. She gave herself up to it with a cry, and the next thing she knew, Jack was sitting with his arms locked around her as he pumped into her one last time, the blue sash still trailing from his wrist.

Her head fell forward onto his shoulder, and she was grateful for the support. She felt too boneless to sit up under her own power.

“That was...” Her voice was hoarse, and forming words took too much effort. Just as well. She didn’t think she knew a word that could encapsulate what they had shared.

His lips found hers, their kiss slow and salty. And perfect.

8

W
HILE
J
ACK
WAS
in the restroom, Riley contemplated whether she’d be able to stand. Her limbs were still shaky, but a desperate need for a glass of water propelled her to the kitchen. She stopped to pick up her robe along the way.

When she stretched to get a tumbler from the cabinet, some of her muscles reacted with twinges of tenderness. On some level, she’d cherish being sore tomorrow, having the physical reminder of the night’s intensity, of her own abandon. Tonight had been amazing, even better than in her fantasies.

There was only one hurdle left to clear.

After someone had just given you the most earth-shattering orgasm of your life, how did you go about fondly kicking him to the curb? Since she’d promised Jack no strings, she wanted to reinforce that she’d meant what she said; this wasn’t a relationship where she expected him to send her flowers tomorrow or snuggle with her through the night. Plus, she doubted she could even sleep next to someone else.

Then again, she thought, as she pulled a pitcher of filtered water from the fridge, after what they’d just done, she might fall into very deep slumber and not wake up until midmorning.

“Hey.” Jack emerged from her room, his pants on but unfastened and his shirt a crumpled ball in his hand.

She smiled, part of her surprised she wasn’t feeling shy. But there was no room for shyness in the bone-melting, life-altering utter satisfaction she’d experienced. “Hey. Want something to drink?”

He joined her in the kitchen. “Not as much as I want this.” Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned forward and kissed her slightly swollen mouth. He sucked at her bottom lip, and sparks of renewed desire flared, bright counterpoints to the drowsy contentment she’d been feeling.

“You,” she murmured between kisses, “are very...good at that.”

He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “Just
good
? Then I may need to practice more. How about Friday? I wondered if you might like to go with me to the Halloween party. Unless you think I’d be bad for your campaign image,” he teased. “After all, it’s
possible
some other tenants overheard us tonight.”

Her cheeks burned. She remembered the ecstatic “yes” after he’d thrust into her and knew she’d cried out at the end. There’d been other stuff in the middle, nonsensical words, gasps, possibly even panting. It was probably best she didn’t have clear memories of everything she’d said. But she wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“If anyone heard noise from my apartment, they’ll assume it was on cable,” she said with wide-eyed innocence. “I am a quiet, respectable tenant who keeps to herself.”

“And ties men to your bedposts.”

She grinned. “That, too.”

* * *

H
E
WASN
’
T
LIKELY
to win any costume contests, but as Jack studied his reflection, he concluded he’d done a decent job cobbling something together.

In a moment of weakness, recalling the appreciative way Riley had looked at him, he’d actually gone back to the Halloween store in search of the superhero costume. His relief at learning the store was sold out of them had been immense. Unfortunately, by then, there had only been a few days left until Halloween, and pretty much
all
the costumes were gone.

But after talking to Riley the other day about his days in the science club, he’d been inspired. He wore a dark red lab coat over hospital scrubs and goggles on his head. His gothic take on a mad scientist also included spiking his hair with the smallest amount of gel he could make work and outlining his eyes in black. A syringe and plastic test tube filled with glowing green liquid were sticking out of his pocket.

He had everything he needed. Except his date.

The thought of being with Riley again, dancing with her tonight and taking her back to her apartment later, put a huge smile on his face.
Stop that
. He scowled at his reflection.
You look like a grinning idiot
. It bordered on alarming, how much he looked forward to seeing her.

Last night he’d tossed and turned in his bed, tempted to go knock on her door. How pathetic was it that he hadn’t been able to go twenty-four hours without wanting to kiss her or touch her?

He’d assured himself it was the proximity that made staying away so difficult. He had a healthy sex drive. It was natural he’d get distracted by the knowledge that on the other side of his door—and, technically the other side of hers—was a woman who could rock a man to his core with her mouth. The way she’d made him feel, the way she’d moved—

Thank heaven the tight-fitting superhero costume hadn’t been available. At least now he had a long jacket to help cover how turned on he was.

He switched off the light in the bathroom and went to get his keys off the bar. There was one part of his
proximity
theory that bothered him. There was no telling how long he and Riley were going to be neighbors. How difficult was it going to be to stop wanting her once she started dating someone? Exactly one week ago, he’d come home to find her in the hallway with her date—and Jack hadn’t liked seeing her with him, even though he had no rational basis for jealousy or judgment.

How much worse would it be now, to pass Riley and her date in the hallway? To watch her go in for the night with a man fortunate enough to win her affections, knowing how it felt to be that man?

Exasperated, he started to jam a hand through his hair, then remembered the gel and goggles. Since when was he this ridiculous person, mooning over what-ifs that had no bearing on the present? Riley herself had said she didn’t want to date.

Actually, she said she wasn’t in a healthy mental space for dating
. Which was a temporary condition. Her momentary freak-out the other night notwithstanding, she was getting more sure of herself every day. She wasn’t going to remain emotionally hobbled forever—nor would he want her to. While he might not like the idea of another guy’s hands on her, he wasn’t a selfish prick. He looked forward, on her behalf, to the day when the strain of self-doubt in her eyes was a distant memory.

But in the meantime, while she was still getting her feet back under her, he planned to do whatever he could to help. And if that meant letting her, in her own words, “shamelessly use him for sex,” well...he was a giver.

* * *

M
AYBE
IT
WAS
because she’d added the cape, or because she’d spent the better part of Wednesday night sitting very still and very naked, but Riley’s costume no longer seemed that revealing. It looked good on her and made her feel strong, self-assured. Hell, maybe she’d start working from home dressed like this to give her an extra boost when dealing with a difficult client on the phone or a string of code that didn’t want to behave.

Funny that she was contemplating wearing her Halloween costume to work while Jack had been threatening to bring his work credentials to the party and call it a costume. She assumed that was a joke. She also figured he’d been kidding when he texted this afternoon that he might be a few minutes late because he’d be cutting eyeholes in a sheet.

Guess I’ll find out in a second
, she thought, swinging the door open at his knock.

He arched an eyebrow, adopting a nefarious tone and rubbing his gloved hands together. “So...we meet again.”

She grinned, drinking in the sight of him. She didn’t particularly have an opinion one way or another on “guyliner,” but it worked really, really well on Jack. She’d always loved his dark eyes, and now they seemed even darker and more captivating. “I like it,” she said. “But should I know who it is? I mean, are you a specific character or...?”

“More of a generic evil scientist you can take down.” He leaned forward, his voice confidential. “Between you and me, if you wanted to capture me, I wouldn’t put up much of a fight.”

“Better not let that information get out,” she said as she locked her door. “You’ll lose the respect of other evildoers.”

He snorted. “Please. If they saw me going home with you, I’d be getting high fives.” He framed her cheek with his fingers. “Every man who sees you tonight is going to wish he was in my shoes.”

“Except possibly Steve and James, the cute couple in 2-A.”

“Okay. Maybe not them.”

They’d fallen into the habit of taking the stairs together. She secretly preferred it because it gave them more time to talk or, recently, flirt. But tonight he tilted his head in the direction of the elevator.

“Want to ride up to the roof?” he asked.

“Sure. It’s unlikely we’ll ever get stuck in the elevator again.”

His gaze traveled down her body, from the clasp of the cape at her throat to her boots, and he gave her a slow, predatory smile. “If I knew how to stop the elevator without setting off an alarm, we’d be in there for
hours
.”

She fluttered her lashes at him. “But however would we keep from getting bored?”

“Oh, I’d think of something.”

* * *

G
IVEN
THAT
,
AS
RECENTLY
as a month ago, Jack had gone out of his way to avoid dogs, it was a little strange that he was having his third conversation of the night about the benefits of owning one. It had started while he was in line to get fresh drinks for him and Riley, and he’d decided that it couldn’t hurt for the board treasurer, standing in front of him, to hear the story of a dog on the K-9 unit who’d saved a life. He wasn’t sure the heroics of a specially trained German shepherd would do anything to speed along the process of Riley being allowed to keep Mags in the building, but he figured it couldn’t hurt.

The woman behind him in line had overheard and had begun chiming in about how much she loved dogs. When Riley had joined them and realized what he was doing, she’d given him a grateful smile and a wicked look that made him wonder just how she was planning to demonstrate that gratitude.
The wrong one of us dressed as a villain
. She’d had that Evil Riley twinkle in her eye all night. She might be nodding along to another tenant’s ideas about parking lot improvements, but the looks she kept shooting Jack over the rim of her glass made him want to throw her over his shoulder and find the nearest bed.

When the couple he’d been chatting with decided to go dance, Jack decided they had the right idea.

He went to Riley’s side and put his arm around her, giving the other woman an apologetic smile. “Do you mind if I steal my date for a dance? This is one of my favorite songs.”

The woman beamed at him. “That’s so sweet. It’s almost impossible to drag my husband onto the floor.”

“One of your favorite songs?” Riley asked as he led her toward the makeshift floor. She cocked her head, listening to the falsetto chorus of some Top 40 ballad. “Really?”

“Never heard it before in my life. Come here, woman.” He slid his hands beneath her cape, resting them on the bare skin of her back, tracing the line of her shoulder blade. “Your cheeks are all flushed. Cold?” He’d be more than happy to take her back to her apartment and warm her up.

She snickered. “It’s probably from alcohol. People keep buying me drinks.”

The beverages had actually been donated by some of the tenants, but the cash bar was to raise money for an organization that helped troubled teens.

“You have been very popular tonight,” he agreed. “Told you people would like the outfit.”

“I think it’s more that they want to thank me for running against El Capitan. Or, in this case, El Capit-anna.”

“Yeah, I...” Watching an astronaut dancing with a flapper, he temporarily lost his train of thought.

“Jack?” Riley raised her head from his chest, glancing up at him with curiosity.

“Sorry. That astronaut costume just... I had a moment of déjà vu.” He took Riley’s hand and twirled her, grinning at the way her cape billowed behind her. It hit him a second later. “Freddie Grimmelstone!”

“Benedict Cumberbatch! Are we just blurting out names? Because Cumberbatch is fun to say.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Freddie was a kid from my...from where I grew up.” Even though he didn’t believe for a second that Riley would judge him if he’d said “trailer park,” he found himself editing his words. “He was two years older than me and about ten feet taller. At least, that’s how it felt when I was in first grade. He was horrible—used to take my lunch money, destroyed the Halloween pumpkin I put out one year.” Freddie also held court on the back of the bus, spreading stories about Jack’s mom. The worst part of the bullying was that a lot of the stories were true.

Riley was frowning up at him in confusion. “And this Grimmelschmuck grew up to be an astronaut?”

“What? Oh, hell, no. He barely graduated high school. But he dressed as an astronaut one Halloween, the year after the pumpkin incident.” Jack hadn’t thought about that night in years. He’d almost forgotten it had happened.

Periodically, Cyndi Reed would notice that her son, scrawniest kid in the trailer park, was being picked on and would make noises about going to talk to the parents of the offenders. To Jack’s vast relief, she’d never followed through. But one Halloween morning, in a rare display of feistiness, she’d asked Jack if he wanted to play a little joke on the trio of boys who continually made his life miserable.

“There was a tr—house near us that had been standing empty after the last occupant died,” Jack said. “It was near the edge of the woods. My mom suggested I find Freddie and his two henchmen while we were all trick-or-treating and tell them that someone new had moved in and was handing out king-size candy bars.” She’d supplied him with the necessary evidence to make his story credible. “So off they went, toward the darkest part of the neighborhood. Just as they were about to approach the front door, my mother came tearing out of the trees in a hockey mask, revving a chainsaw—with the chain removed for safety reasons, of course, but they didn’t get a close enough look to notice that. They were too busy peeing their pants and hauling ass toward the next county.”