“There’s a part of me that loves what I do. Don’t think my life has been such a sacrifice. I’m not ready to throw a pity party so don’t you go getting maudlin on me either.”
He laughed. “There’s many things I feel for you, sweetheart. Pity isn’t one of them.”
She scooted forward until her breasts pushed insistently against his back.
“Play fair,” he warned her. “Your parents set you on this course so what’s your mother’s role in all this?” He reached back and squeezed her wrists, the only silent reassurance he could give.
“She loves my father. His disappointment was her disappointment. Do we have to talk about this when there’s so many other things we could do instead?” Her fingernails raked along his back in an overtly provocative move.
“You’re talking to someone who’s made not dealing with his parents an art form.” After her revelation, he felt he owed her that much truth.
And besides, he understood only too well what it felt like to have a painful childhood affect the present. Of course in Jack’s case at least he had one parent proud of his accomplishments. Hers underestimated a child they ought to be proud of, and created a woman who didn’t know her own worth.
“You’re beautiful.” He could give her an honest infusion of truth in return for the fantasies she’d created for him.
She let out a sigh of disbelief. “I’ve looked in a mirror, Jack.”
Those contradictions again. And the old question—which was the real Mallory.
“Don’t move.” He swung his legs off the bed and headed to the corner of the room where a large floor-length mirror with gilded wrought iron leaves stood. He pushed the mirror into the room and parked it at the foot of the bed.
She eyed the object warily. “What’s that for?”
“Before we get on with the beach theme, I wanted to get some things between us perfectly clear.”
After positioning the mirror, Jack moved behind her and gripping her shoulders, he turned her so she had no choice but to stare into the reflective glass.
“Take a look and memorize what you see. Because next time you doubt, I want you to glance into a mirror and see yourself through my eyes.”
Mallory glanced into the large glass and winced. As if she had a choice whether or not to look with the darn thing in her face.
“Because I see a well-satisfied woman.”
Mallory agreed. In her flushed face, she saw the aftereffects of her orgasm hadn’t diminished. Her cheeks were shaded a light pink, her eyes still bright and alive with sensual awareness.
He walked back to the mirror and turned so he stood with one hand slung over the top of the wrought iron. “But I also see a beautiful woman, inside as well as out.”
A grateful yet embarrassed grin lifted her lips. “You do have a way with words, counselor.”
He shook his head. “Truth is truth. No one’s ever gone so out of their way for me. You’ve done it. Twice.”
“Now that you’ve brought up the other women, there must be someone in your life who’d go out of their way to please you.” Not that she wanted to hear about them in detail, but if she wanted to get to know Jack better, his private life was important, too.
“None that count.”
From his solemn tone she realized their time together meant more to him than a one-night stand and the notion pleased her. “If I can make you smile, that’s enough for me.”
“Which is exactly what I mean. You’re beautiful inside and out. You just gave me proof of the first. And those incredible eyes of yours and well-kissed lips are proof of the second.”
She dipped her head, unable to process the thrill that infused her, enjoyment and gratitude that wasn’t merely sexual or egotistical in nature. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“The pleasure was mine. But not only mine, I hope.” He tilted his head in a cocky move she knew was meant to tease her.
She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth and his darkened gaze followed the movement. The man did know how to kiss. He also knew how to distract her from her plan and somehow this seduction had gotten away from her.
Despite all her preparation, she was the one being pleasured, and falling hard for Jack Latham, a caring man with whom she had no future. She rubbed a hand over her face as she accepted the long-term effects of this night.
She’d never see a beach again without thinking of Jack. Never inhale the warm fragrant scent of coconut oil without remembering how his hands gave her immense pleasure. And she’d never again glance in a mirror without remembering Jack and how he’d attempted to make up for every neglectful thing her parents had done by forcing her to view herself through his eyes.