Man Trouble, page 11
She squirmed deliciously against him when his hands drifted up to her breasts. “We're even, then. I can't help how you make me feel."
Jack kissed her, trying to let his lips tell her that she was beautiful. That he needed her. His hands continued to roam the brief cut of silk that still separated their bodies. He reveled in the greediness of her fingers as they explored his skin. Each touch and caress was filled with approval and wonder. Beth made him feel like he mattered.
When his lips finally left her mouth, it was only to lift her forward and taste her breasts hungrily. His fingers found the release of the silk between her thighs, but toyed with it for minutes. It was satisfyingly moist with her desire before he finally unfastened it. He pulled the silk slowly up over her head, caressing each inch of sensitized flesh as he removed it.
Her lips descended upon his as soon as the silk was beyond her head. Beth was nearly undone, which was damn lucky since he needed to be inside her with a desperation that was almost frightening. Before he could stop her, though, she fanned her fingers out over the taut muscles of his abdomen and down through the thick patch of hair at his groin. Her hand caressed him with exquisite detail.
Jack groaned and lifted her above him. “Enough."
Beth found him and joined him to her body. They both sighed in synchrony as she dipped her forehead to his. Using all his will power, Jack held very still within her, but continued his sensual assault on her lips and breasts until she convulsed sweetly around him.
She had not even regained her breath when he began to move. Each stroke was calculated to seer her flesh. She gasped with pleasure until she was rocking violently, meeting him thrust for thrust. No woman had ever wanted him so much. No woman had ever pulled him so tightly within her that he completely lost himself. Her contractions pulled the life out of him with near ferocity. He surged up and encased her in his arms, knowing he'd never felt so bound to a woman in his life.
The only noise that broke the silence of the night was the sound of hungry breaths of air as he tried to regain equilibrium. His heartbeat, as they lay chest to chest, heaved against her body.
Remembering the last time he'd loved her, though, he willed himself to calm down. He needed to brace himself for her tears of regret. The fact that it was him beneath her and not her dead husband was bound to overcome her pleasure. He expected nothing less. And he vowed he would not hold it against her.
When she raised her head, he watched her suspiciously. “I'm falling in love with you, Jack O'Brien."
He closed his eyes. That hurt more than her regret. Because it couldn't possibly be true.
His eyes flashed open even as he felt the black pit that sucked him forward. “This isn't love, Beth.” He twitched inside of her and pulled her hips fiercely. She braced herself on his shoulders. Confusion and passion warred within her gaze. “This is sex.” He thrust up hard, reveling in the way her breath quickened.
"I ... ahh..."
His fingers trailed down her back to the cleft of her bottom to where they were joined, effectively silencing her as he stroked. “Pure ... animal ... need.” He let his other hand drift to the sensitive bud swollen above him and expertly plucked the quivering flesh. She tried to writhe against him, but he swatted her bottom and held her tight against him.
He whispered against her breast, willing her to bring it to his lips with each word. “This ... is ... lust.” Her swollen nipple turned and filled his mouth. He sucked softly, rhythmically, in synchrony with his hands, trying to keep her on edge. When he felt her muscles begin to clench, he rotated his hips hard, pinching her clit softly.
Her fingers tightened painfully in his shoulders as she gasped and quivered with violent spasms around his appreciative but tired flesh. When he released her breast, he watched her face. Her eyes were closed and her short little breaths hadn't yet calmed.
Even though he couldn't deny the profound victory that coursed through him, he was a little ashamed of his behavior. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he did such outrageous things when he was with her. He knew he didn't deserve her, and he wouldn't blame her if she slugged him.
Her eyes opened. Eventually, they focused on him. He could read nothing in their pale green depths. She studied him as if he were a fascinating specimen in a lab. It wouldn't have surprised him if she'd burst into tears and called for her mother.
But she didn't. She shrugged. And she gave him a contented smile. “You call it what you want, Jack. And I'll do the same.” She put her hand on his face and traced her fingers along his worry lines. “If your intention was for me to not enjoy that, you failed miserably. I've already accepted the fact that you bring out all of my lascivious instincts.” She yawned. “I believe I'll wait until tomorrow to feel guilty about it."
The feel of her gentle fingers on his face soothed him like nothing he'd ever experienced, particularly when she should have slapped him. Puzzled, he stroked her hair.
A few minutes later, she crooked her elbow on his chest, and rested her chin on her hand. “So if that's rookie sex, how will I survive when all your expertise returns?"
He snorted. “Wake me up if you start to have nightmares about it."
"I will.” She lowered her head and yawned again with contentment. “Will I have to wait long?"
He splayed his hands over her sweet ass. “You must have liked that swat I gave you."
She leaned down and nipped his shoulder, then settled into the crook of his arm.
"Go to sleep, witch.” A pleasant weariness invaded his body. His hand absently stroked her back. He'd been married for eight hours, already, and still hadn't screwed things up.
When Jack awoke the following morning, the sun was already streaming through the window. Beth was cuddled up to his back side like a second skin. He smiled smugly. She'd probably sleep half the day.
He'd woken her up before dawn and showed her just what he could do to her when he had a handle on his hunger. And he'd learned a thing or two, himself. Spending a half hour with his head between her thighs had brought out a surprising dominant streak.
The word, please, had never been a turn on before, but damn, he liked to hear it coming out of her sweet, panting mouth. He'd never dreamed that, “Jack. Please make love to me,” would bring him to a ten-second warning point before he just had to be buried in her, ramming home, howling her name. Maybe it was because she was so damn proper with everyone else. Maybe he was a fucking animal that liked taking her places no one else could.
He'd also tossed and turned this morning, thinking about her words of love. She'd not repeated them, which probably meant that she'd decided he was right. It was passion that they shared. Unbelievable passion, but still, nothing more.
He rolled onto his back and stretched. Incredible as it seemed, he was beginning to think that it was all going to work out just fine. He was due for a break in life.
"You're looking mighty pleased with yourself this morning.” Her voice was still husky from sleep.
Jack turned on his side and lifted his head on his hand to look at her. She was so damn beautiful. Never more so than now. Her lips were swollen from all of his kisses and a sensual languor pervaded every inch of her body, including the warm gray eyes that twinkled with hidden promises. His hand caressed the soft skin of her arm. His need to touch her was always just beneath the surface.
He frowned when he saw a red spot on her breast and he self-consciously rubbed the bristle on his jaw. “Damn. I'm sorry. I should have shaved last night."
"I didn't notice.” Her warm eyes, now with flecks of blue, sparkled with humor. Her auburn curls were even wilder than usual, sprawled across the pillow.
"Tell you what. Let me take a quick shower, and then you can soak in the tub.” He shook his head. “You're probably going to be sore today, sitting for hours on that plane."
"Maybe.” She yawned, shifted to her stomach, and snuggled back down into the pillow. “It was worth it."
If he didn't get up right now, he was going to climb over her, pull her to her knees, and slip inside of her warmth. He forced his limbs to leave the bed. He had to establish some perspective. Otherwise, when she finally got tired of him, he'd be a basket case.
Ten minutes later, Jack emerged from the bathroom barefoot in a pair of jeans, a great deal more composed. “Beth? Your bath is ready."
When she didn't answer, he checked to see if she'd fallen back to sleep, but the bed was empty. He strolled down the hall, expecting to find her in the kitchen.
But no, goddammit, Beth was seated on the couch. In his robe. Looking nothing like the woman who had appeared mesmerized with contentment fifteen minutes ago. Opposite her, in a rocker, was Laurie's mother.
"Hello, Jack,” Gloria said. “I hear congratulations are in order."
He stared at the blue eyed woman who had caused him such misery. Her blonde hair was pulled back neatly in a clip, and she was in a surprisingly plain navy sweater and skirt. She looked a lot older and an unfamiliar clarity was in her eyes as she watched him.
"How long have you been here?” he asked.
It was Beth who answered. “Long enough. You don't look very surprised to see her, Jack.” Disapproval oozed from her honeyed tones. She stood and sharply tightened the sash of the plaid robe that engulfed her. “I'll leave you two to talk."
He folded his arms across his bare chest. “Maybe you should stay."
"No. I believe I've already played my role in this scenario.” She turned back toward Gloria and shook her hand. “I'm certain I'll see you again."
Not if he had anything to say about it. “I'll be back in a minute.” He followed Beth down the hall, silently approving of the way she held the length of the robe up in one arm so that she wouldn't trip, but tucking it around her bottom in the process
Just before she disappeared into the bathroom, he stopped her. “I didn't have any bubble bath. I put shampoo in the water to give you some suds."
"Do you think there's room for the three of us?"
"Shit. I knew last night was too good to last."
"There's nothing about last night that's disappeared, Jack.” She sighed. “Look. I don't want to talk about it now. Let me soak. And maybe even sleep. I'll be more civil then."
"So much for love,” he said with bitterness.
Her eyes narrowed. “I'm a little disappointed in you this morning. And mad at myself for expecting more. That doesn't change the basic way I feel."
"Right. Pissed."
"We have a guest waiting. It would be rude to make her wait any longer."
"My manners are not at my finest around Gloria. I'd just as soon never see her again."
"It's not an option, Jack. You share a child. You need to think about Laurie."
"I always do,” he said tiredly and started back down the hall.
"Jack?” Beth called.
"Yeah?” he turned just as one of his sweatshirts hit him in the chest.
"We wouldn't want Gloria to get any ideas."
"Proprietary little thing, aren't you?” He'd half expected her to kick him out on his sorry ass a minute ago when she'd figured out just why she'd been rushed into this marriage.
"Just put it on. It's cold,” she grumbled. She put her tongue in her cheek and folded her arms. “And since when does a guy who didn't graduate from high school use words like proprietary?"
He ignored her question as he put his arms in the warm sweatshirt. “I guess you want the Beth-Nash-property handyman healthy."
"Of course,” she answered, “and it's Beth-Nash-Swenson-O'Brien property."
Before his head poked through the neck of the sweatshirt, the door to the bathroom slammed shut, effectively cutting off their conversation.
For a few seconds, he stood at the closed door and allowed himself to revel in the fantasy of having someone around who actually cared about him. But as he walked back to the living room, reality intruded. Gloria had shown him just how expensive such pipe dreams could become. He wondered how much it was going to cost him this time.
He sat down opposite her. “Your timing sucks."
"I'm sorry. Really. She seems nice."
"She is.” Most of the time.
Gloria's fingers fidgeted with the worn brown corduroy of the sofa arm. “How is Laurie?"
"Fine."
"Not here?"
"No."
"Does she ever ask about me?"
"Sometimes."
"What do you tell her?” she whispered.
He studied the woman before him. Unlike any of their time together, she actually seemed to be interested in someone's welfare besides her own. But she also was an excellent actress. He proceeded with caution. “That you had problems. The problems wouldn't allow you to function as a mom.” He paused a beat. “That it wasn't her fault that you left."
"It might have been easier if you'd helped instead of walking away all the time, Jack."
He knew. And he wasn't particularly proud of it. Just seeing her brought back memories he'd rather not face. “I admit ... that we brought out the worst in each other."
"Maybe it wouldn't have mattered at all,” she said tiredly.
"I can be a bastard, as you never failed to point out to me."
"There was something driving me to reach the bottom in those years. The fact that you wanted nothing to do with me didn't help. But I doubt anything would have stopped the slide."
He was curious in spite of himself. “Did you finally hit bottom?"
"I nearly died last year."
"I didn't know."
"And wouldn't have cared.” She held up her hand to stop his feeble protest, and then used it to smooth her skirt down over her dark blue tights. “Don't start lying to me now. No one cared. That's what finally reached through the drugs and the alcohol. Not a living soul would have missed me."
"And now?"
"I've been sober for a year. But it's not easy. One day at a time and all that."
He was glad she'd straightened out. But it didn't mean he wanted her back in their lives. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “What do you want this time, Gloria?"
"I don't want to disrupt her life with you, Jack. But I do want to be a small part of her world."
"It's too late."
"Don't you think it would be better for her to go through life knowing that I do care? She must think I hated her."
"She's over it. You'll just unsettle her."
Her lips thinned. “Think about it, Jack. I'm not asking for any change in custody. I'm not naive enough to believe that I could handle the responsibility, even now. Life is still a struggle. I just want to visit her now and then."
He'd had enough. He stood. “I honestly don't know. My instincts are against it."
"I'd rather work this out between us than have to go to court."
"So would I. Can't you see that what you're asking is all about you? I have to consider what's best for her."
"Damn it, she may want to get to know her mother. She may not be so understanding, when she gets older, if she believes you stood in the way."
"Jesus Christ. All right. I'll think about it.” Anything to get her out of here. “Where are you living now, anyway?"
"St. Louis."
Thank God. It wasn't close. “With someone?"
"Yes."
"Serious?"
"I think so. But it's only been six months."
He mentally crossed his fingers. “Are you working?"
Her eyes flickered with humor as if she could see him silently tallying the money he'd given her over the years. “I'm cutting hair again."
She removed a card from her leather bag and handed it to him. “I'd like to know something by Thanksgiving, Jack. But if we can't work it out, I will pursue it. I know I'd have a good chance of winning formal visitation rights."
He took the card reluctantly, turning it over between his fingers with something close to distaste. “I'll call by then. That's all I'll promise."
She slipped on her long wool coat and adjusted the matching plaid muffler. “I want a picture."
Jack just stared at her for a moment. Some nightmares just refused to go away. “I can't believe I'm letting you upset my life again."
"Life is messy, Jack. You still haven't figured that out, have you? You always thought you could live it by some master plan. And you never forgave me for disrupting it."
He was a little surprised and even more uncomfortable that she knew him that well. “If I get you the picture, will you leave?"
She smiled. “For now."
When he returned, he handed her this year's first grade school picture. It was good. He'd even remembered to have Laurie wear something special and had taken her for a haircut the week before. Even being totally objective, Laurie was a beautiful little girl.
Gloria ran her fingers over the surface with near reverence. “She still looks like you. Your nose.” Her voice caught. “And freckles."
He looked at the worn down woman before him and felt an uncharacteristic flicker of pity. “We messed up a lot of things. But we made a good kid."
Her head cocked. “Thank you, Jack.” Before he could close the door after her, she turned back and looked at him. “By the way. I suspect this marriage wasn't in your master plan, either. Do yourself a favor and try not to screw this one up."
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Chapter Eleven
"Mom.” Tom twisted in his seat on the plane and peaked through the crack between the seats at her. “Mark won't quit bothering me. He keeps drawing pictures on my paper.” A distinctly wicked giggle drifted back from her youngest.
"Mark Joseph,” she hissed as she leaned forward. “Unless you behave, you're going to have to move and sit with me."
"Tom won't give me back my red marker."
Jack shifted in his seat. “Do you think Merilee gave your boys a couple shots of espresso this morning?"
She had wondered the same thing. Mark had tried to swing on the velvet rope at the check-in line, toppling five metal poles like dominoes. Tom had knocked over a large cup of cola sitting by her feet. It had splattered over the polished shoes of the businessman sitting next to her, who had been so nasty about it that she'd needed to grab Jack's arm to keep him from leaving his seat to go toe to toe.
