Intoxicated Page 13

  “I’ve had about enough of this place for one night,” he said. “It won’t take long to close up. You ready to get out of here?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  At the top of the steps to the apartment, Jack paused long enough to unlock the door.

  “You live here?” she asked. “We are literally ten steps from the bar.”

  “Uh, well, Randy lives here. Technically, I’m between places right now.”

  Ally waited behind him, wordless and subdued. Was she feeling the same hum of anticipation? The ambivalent expression on her face offered no clues. He rubbed his sweaty palms across his jeans; he hadn’t been this nervous with a girl since middle school. Even as a gawky adolescent he’d held the upper hand in his relationships. Ally, however, left him constantly off balance. He swung open the door and stepped over the threshold. Tasha had done her best to pick up the place while he and Randy closed down the bar, but it still looked like the trashy shithole he’d left earlier that day.

  “Hang out here for just a minute — okay?”

  Ally nodded her assent and leaned against the door frame for support while he scoured the place for anything shocking or disgusting. For the first time, he saw the place through someone else’s eyes — her eyes. Fleeting disapproval flickered across her face before that damned mask slid into place and hid her thoughts from view. God only knew what lurked behind that calm expression. After a quick tour, he returned and gave her a smile meant to put her at ease but probably came across as more of a leer. He wiped his palms on his jeans again and held out a hand in invitation.

  “All clear,” he said. After a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand and followed him through the living room to the sofa. “Pretty impressive, huh?” That brought a smile to her face and he relaxed a bit.

  “I don’t care about your place, Jack. I’m here to be with you.” He remained unconvinced. “What were you looking for anyway? Groupies?” A slight smile twitched across her lips.

  “Yeah and dirty underwear.”

  “I thought you didn’t wear underwear,” she shot back. “Or did you mean panties from your groupies?”

  “Well, I never really know what I’ll find up here,” he replied, unable to hold back his grin. “Like I said, this is Randy’s crash pad and he’s a pig. Want something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I’m pretty lit up already.”

  He fell onto the sofa, tugged her hand, and pulled her onto his lap. The sudden request caught her off guard. She squeaked as she fell across his legs.

  “I like that noise you make,” he said, nuzzling into her hair. The fine strands smelled like strawberry shampoo and tickled his nose as he brushed them aside. She’d left her hair down after the thump on her head. The heavy locks spilled haphazardly down her back and over her shoulders.

  “What noise?” She struggled to push back from him, but he tightened his grasp and held her against his chest. As his tongue swept the shell of her ear, she squeaked again, wriggling on his lap and sending all the blood straight to his groin.

  “That sound. I like it.” Before she could reply, he found her mouth, kissed her long and slow, only to be rewarded with another squeak.

  “Hang on a minute.” She pushed away from him.

  “Right.” With a deep groan, he waited for the blood to return from his groin to his brain. Well, he could be patient; he could kiss her all night if that’s what she wanted, even though he wanted to throw her down on the floor and...

  “Jack? Did you hear me?”

  “Huh?”

  Ally rolled her eyes and gusted a heavy sigh that blew her bangs away from her face. “I said I need to use the restroom. Where’s the bathroom?”

  When the bathroom door closed behind her, his brain resumed normal activity. The idea of a naked Ally, lying beneath him compliant and eager, set a fire in his blood that stripped way all pretense of composure. His hands shook as he raked them through his hair. He wanted her in the worst way, more than he’d ever wanted any woman. More than that he wanted her approval, to please her. This girl needed seduction and reassurance before she’d surrender to all that pent up sexual frustration. And for that to happen, he’d need to step up his game.

  When Ally stepped out of the bathroom, Jack had disappeared. She’d been in there longer than necessary in an effort to quash the trembling in her knees and to freshen up after a night of drinking and dancing. The smoldering lust in his gaze left her with little doubt that he was going to have his way with her before she went home, a thought that elicited a new wave of euphoric panic.

  “Jack?”

  “Hey.” He appeared from the kitchen area with a glass of water and two tablets of aspirin. “Take these. You’ll be glad later.”

  “How come you don’t have a place of your own? Isn’t this kind of cramped for two guys?”

  “It’s not bad. I don’t spend too much time here except to sleep.” Jack shrugged and turned to face her, leaning against the counter behind him. “During the day I’m usually at Jameson’s. It seemed a waste to rent a place that I’d never use. I suppose it’s pretty disgusting to someone like you.”

  “Like me?” She arched an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He ran a finger inside his shirt collar, as if to loosen a constriction. “You probably live in a condo or penthouse on the north side. Somewhere with a clubhouse and a pool.”

  “I live in a house in Old Towne, the historic district downtown. My dad has a friend with rentals down there.”

  “How come you never talk about your family?” he asked. “What about your parents? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Ally’s gut clenched. How in the world could she explain the craziness that comprised her family? At this juncture in her relationship with Jack, it might prove prudent to avoid the messy details; he’d run screaming from the room and never speak to her again. The calloused pad of his thumb brushed over the back of her hand. The intimate gesture sent an unexpected shiver of pleasure through her body. When her eyes rose to meet his, the returning gaze was interested and curious without any hint of malice. Very well, then. She’d give him the truth, or as much of it as she could without revealing the ugliness.

  “Wait. Let’s get comfortable first.” Threading his fingers through her hand, he led her to the bedroom. The shabby room glowed with yellow candlelight — he must’ve done that while she was in the bathroom — and smelled of fresh linen. Smooth jazz played from a portable CD player in the corner. He shut the door behind them and locked it.

  “Very nice,” she murmured, appreciatively. “Is this how you treat all your women?”

  “Nope.” He grinned as he toed off his shoes then flopped onto the bed, reclining back on his elbows. “This is only for you, baby doll.” One long-fingered hand patted the mattress beside him. “Take your shoes off and have a seat.”

  Ally sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, but Jack rolled onto his side and pulled her down beside him. With his forefinger, he pushed the hair back from her forehead. “Now talk.”

  “Okay. Well...my dad’s a retired Marine,” Ally began, distracted by the gentle stroking of his fingers through her hair. “I don’t see him much. He likes to travel with his girlfriend du jour.

  “So your parents are divorced then?” A strand of hair, encouraged by humidity and heat, curled around Jack’s little finger like a tiny serpent. He tugged on the curl, smiling with delight.

  “My mom died when I was young.” The lie slipped easily from her lips before she could stop it. It was so much easier to lie than to explain the endless string of mental institutions and failed marriages that made up her mother’s life. “And I have a half-brother that lives in California.”

  Ally stopped and sucked in a deep breath as Jack’s hand brushed her breast. The contact had been unintentional but her skin pebbled with gooseflesh all the same.

  “So you lived with your dad then?” His hand traced lightly down her arm, across her waist and down the length of her
thigh to her knee.

  “Well, he was in the Marines so I lived with my grandparents — his parents — until they died. Then I went to boarding school and away to college after that.” It was difficult to concentrate with that roaming hand teasing along the edges of her dress. She was grateful for the distraction from the pathetic story of her life.

  “What about your brother? Are you two close?”

  “I’ve never met him. I’m not even sure he knows about me.” As Jack’s fingers dipped beneath the hem of her dress and brushed against her panties, she sighed with pleasure. ”What about you? Are your parents divorced?”

  “My parents were married a long time — until my dad died. He ran a bar in Chicago that had belonged to my grandfather and his father before him. Taught me everything he knew about tending bar. My oldest brother runs the place now.” As he spoke, his gaze followed his hand to her breasts. He squeezed one round globe then the other with a gleam of satisfaction. “I come from a long line of alcoholics.”

  “I’m sorry – about your dad,” she said, partly because she was sorry and partly because she’d somehow lost the ability to think coherently. He’d managed to work one breast free of the halter top and bent to flick the nipple with the tip of his tongue. When she gasped, he shot her a grin then rasped his bearded stubble against the tight peak. The contrast of soft and rough sent a pang of desire straight into her womb.

  “You’re fidgeting. Something wrong?” Even white teeth nipped at her nipple then gleamed in a devilish smile. The bastard knew exactly what was wrong.

  “I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

  “Exactly,” he replied with smug self-satisfaction. “Now let’s do the other one.”

  Despite the distraction of Jack’s lips and hands on her body, conversation flowed easily between them. He had a way of listening as if what she said mattered, as if there was no other place on earth that he’d rather be. Between kisses and caresses, he dropped tidbits of information that left her curious. She gathered that he had six sisters and three brothers, had lived in Chicago all his life but left when he turned eighteen and hadn’t been back home in almost two years. When she asked why, he shrugged and dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder then swept a hand along the inside of her thigh to stroke her with his thumb. The man knew how to touch a girl in a way that left her wanting more.

  “Jack, you’re making me crazy.”

  “No. You’re making me crazy,” he replied. “Aren’t you going to touch me? You’ve got a death grip on that sheet. Do you think the bed might throw you off?”

  He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head then reclined back on the pillows beside her. An incoming tidal wave of lust rushed through her veins, sending heat into her cheeks and a fine dew of perspiration on her upper lip. The half smile faded from his lips. He pried her hand from the bed sheet and placed it on his left breast. The thudding of his heart rose to meet her palm.

  “Feel that? It happens every damn time you come near me. Every damn time, Ally.” He pulled her hand down his chest, over the hollow and swell of muscle and bone, letting her become familiar with his body.

  The rhythm of her own heart tripled as her hand traced the hollow of his chest. Two scars like flat circles broke the smooth skin of his rib cage. With a tentative fingertip, she circled his navel and ruffled the trail of black springy hairs that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. The bronzed skin heated beneath her hand and pebbled with gooseflesh wherever her fingers touched. His head tipped back and his eyes squeezed shut as she explored the generous swell beneath the fly of his jeans. He was as hard as steel beneath the soft denim. As she cupped him, he tilted his hips, pressing into her hand, and groaned.

  “Jesus,” she murmured to herself.

  “What?” Jack’s eyes opened, narrow black slits beneath winged brows.

  “Nothing.”

  “I heard you.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Hell no.” He placed his hand over hers and pushed it against him, pressing into her palm, his breath hissing sharply. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

  Fascinated by his body’s response to her touch, she continued her exploration. Every caress brought a reaction either physical or audible. His hands stroked up and down her back. When she bent to bite his nipple as he had done hers, he grimaced and took a handful of her bottom in his grip. She’d have fingerprints there tomorrow, she thought as she pressed tiny kisses along his abdomen down to his belt buckle. He tasted of salt and smelled like a man should, an earthy combination of soap and sweat and leather.

  Without thinking to ask, she unbuckled his belt, eased down his zipper and came face to face with the evidence of his arousal. It was smooth and pink, except for the tip which was a deep red, and ridged with veins. Underneath her hand it felt hot and heavy, throbbing at her touch.

  “It looks angry,” she said with a smirk. With a careful finger, she traced the vein running down one side then gripped it and pulled. His grunt of surprise made her giggle.

  “You like torturing me, don’t you? It’s not angry. It’s in heaven.” He put both his hands behind his head and smiled down at her. She pulled on it again to hear his groan of pleasure. “But it’s going to get angry if you keep doing that.” He tugged on the hem of her dress. “You’ve got too many damn clothes on.”

  “Can we blow out the candles?”

  “Nope. I want to see all of that gorgeous body of yours. I want you to see what I’m doing to you.”

  “I’m not comfortable with the lights on.” She squeezed her eyes shut as if he couldn’t see her then.

  “Ally, you’re beautiful. Look.” He cupped one on her breasts in his hand. “Beautiful. Perfect.”

  The dark bronze of his fingers stood out in stark relief against her pale skin. It had been a long time since she’d seen herself naked outside of the bathroom mirror which showed nothing below the waist. She watched, entranced, as his hand swept down the rounded curve of her belly to cup between her legs. His fingers stroked through the tiny curls, gentle and reverent. The sight of his lean, tanned length stretched out beside her sent a jolt of desire throughout her body, so strong that her legs convulsed.

  “Beautiful. So beautiful, Ally. I could lick every inch of you and still want more.” The heat of his body pressed against hers, insistent and demanding, while his hands remained gentle. “Keep touching me, baby. Don’t let go.”

  At his insistence, she swept her hands along the groove of his back, feeling the thick cord of muscle on either side. He was gracefully made, long-limbed and perfectly proportioned. The heat of his breath traveled along her collarbone, up her neck to her ear. His nose nuzzled her hair while his hands kept teasing and taunting. The deep rumble of his voice sent chills down her spine as he murmured words of encouragement. Her hands went lower and lower still until she felt the dented muscle on each side of his buttocks. She pulled him onto her and pushed his hips down, demanding satisfaction.

  “Greedy.” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, teasing her. “Maybe we should lay off for a while. Concentrate on building this relationship.”

  “Like hell. Maybe you’re not up to it.” The evidence pressed against her belly said otherwise. One of his knees nudged gently between hers, the hairs of his leg scratching against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Still, he denied her. Frustrated, her hips jerked in impatience. “Now who’s doing the torturing?”

  “Ally.” The commanding tone of his voice made her stop wriggling and look at him. His eyes were dark and solemn and very, very close. “Ally.” The second time he spoke her name with a reverence that made her forget everything...the tension, the shyness, the embarrassment and shame...forget everything but him.

  “Jack!” He slid home with an unexpectedness that brought his name from her lips in a cry of ecstasy.

  Ally awoke some time later in a tangle of sheets and limbs, naked and dripping with sweat, amid total darkness. Jack slept on his side facing he
r, his hand wedged between her thighs, exuding heat like a blast furnace. The candles had long since extinguished, leaving hardened puddles of wax at their bases. The only sounds in the room were Jack’s deep even breathing and the ticking of a clock on the dresser.

  With exaggerated slowness to keep from waking him, she pushed the sheets away and attempted to slide out from underneath Jack’s legs. The fingers on her thigh tightened until she stilled. His grip relaxed. The urge to put emotional distance between them overwhelmed her and she had to fight to keep calm. Her breath caught in her throat. The sculpted features resting on the pillow beside her remained immobile, black eyelashes fanned in half-moons against his cheeks as he slept. Moved by his vulnerability, she drew her fingers across his full lips then kissed him.

  Jack had made love to her three times in all, each encounter growing with fervor and intensity until he obliterated what little defenses she had left against him. He demanded her full attention from the moment his lips touched hers, forcing her to focus on the sensations of flesh against flesh. When her mind threatened to shut him out, he brought her back to him with unyielding tenacity, using his hands and lips and teeth to subdue the rebellion. With those barriers dissolved, she had feared that he might take everything from her, that she would somehow lose a part of herself. Instead, he gave himself to her in a way that left her trembling and shaken by his generosity.

  Now, as impossible as it seemed after their marathon sex, a fresh wave of lust surged through her.

  “Can you keep it down over there? I can’t sleep with your brain making all that noise.” One eye cracked open and stared at her across the crest of the wave of sheets.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Do you know what time it is?”

  “It’s not time to get up, if that’s what you’re asking.” The deep voice was rough with sleep. “Why? Do you have an appointment?”