“I want things from you, Derelie Honeywell.” He brushed the back of his knuckles gently over her cheek. “I want them and I shouldn’t. You make me feel things I’d forgotten about, remember things I’d locked away. You, not the idiot experiment—you. I’m answering the questions because of you. Because of your generosity, your honesty. Because you have a clear heart and a strong mind and a tenacity that impresses me.”
Oh, it wasn’t anger, it was fire. It crackled across his skin and flickered in his eyes. She’d never wanted to be so close to a blaze so intense, so willing to be consumed by passion without care for the consequences. There was nothing careful about wanting to be with Jack. It was hot coals, no shoes, a tightrope walk without a net.
“I want your mouth on mine because you astonish me. I want your hands on me because you delight me. I want to hear your voice because you inspire me. I want to smile at you because I’m no longer afraid it might hurt either of us to show you what you make me feel.”
She put her lips to his ear. Jack made her feel reckless and free. “Do it.”
He crushed her to his chest, his mouth on her neck. “I don’t know what the questions mean anymore, but the answers fucking terrify me.”
The question was how to keep her sanity while Jack’s kisses were restrained and tentative, at her jaw and her cheek and her brow, while his hands stroked, held, explored and her blood sizzled. Her breathing got noisy and her own hands busy, burrowing into his short hair and gripping his arm. She wanted his lips but he wouldn’t take them. Wouldn’t let her mouth near his.
There was only one more question in this set. What roles do love and affection have in your life? She already knew Jack’s answer—he’d had very little love and was wary about affection.
“Please,” she whimpered against his throat. He’d kissed her before; his hesitancy now was infuriating and it made her fingers into claws. She’d been loved deeply platonically and grown to adulthood fueled by affection. She’d had sex, great, good, boring, bad, but she’d never felt need like this. She burned for it. “Please, Jack.” She would be nothing but ash if he failed to answer.
She was incendiary when he did.
He caught her jaw in his hand and they locked eyes. His had gone dark, in their bed of bruises, and then with a groan that shook through him he brought their lips together.
Kiss followed kiss followed kiss. Thorough and sweeping and possessive. Jack’s lips could be soft and addictive or hard and cruel. He didn’t censor, he got lost. He gave her his emotions without guarding them, and she reflected them back without judgment. Her tongue to encourage him, her hands to praise him, the echo of her pulse in her breath and her core, ground into his stomach and hips. But there would be more.
Derelie scrambled to exchange sidesaddle for sitting astride Jack’s lap without losing contact. He grunted in disapproval when she moved, but woke quickly to the possibilities of closer contact, opening his arms to give her room, but damn this dress, the skirt was too narrow to allow her to settle over his thighs.
He broke the kiss, hands to her waist. “No.” He stood, backing her up. “This can’t happen.”
What was he talking about? “It’s happened before.” It’d happened with less buildup than this.
“That wasn’t real. This isn’t real.” He took his hands off her and put distance between them. “It’s the voodoo from that experiment.”
“You said you wanted me. Was that a lie?” He turned his face away. Her own had gone past flaming and entered nuclear meltdown. Any minute now her features were going to slide down her chin and pool on her chest. “Did you make out with me for the story?” What a complete cad.
“I made out with you because I meant everything I said, because I want you, Derelie Honeywell, but we’re being manipulated.”
“You think a game of Twenty Questions made us want to kiss.” The questions were probing, they forced confessions and the whole setup demanded honesty, but could a question and answer session have that kind of power?
“I don’t know, but I think we need to take a breath to find out.” He moved about restlessly, putting his back to her. “And that wasn’t just kissing.” He groaned and turned to face her. “There are a dozen reasons why it’s a bad idea that I want you to stay for the weekend.”
He didn’t say the night. And it was more than kissing. It was more than a game of questions and answers. “Is this about work? Because no one has to know.”
“It’s about us. My behavior toward you has been unacceptable.” He shook his head as if even his own formality appalled him. “I took advantage of you once before
. I’m not doing it again.”
“I’m choosing this. It’s not like you’re forcing me.”
“Like I didn’t force you outside Elaine’s?”
She could’ve kneed him in the groin outside Elaine’s. She’d been more annoyed when he stopped kissing her and shoved her in a cab. “I’m not some backwater innocent. If I want a one-night stand with you, I get to decide that for myself.”
“Do you sleep with the man from yoga?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“You’re right. Ask me why I invited you to Elaine’s.”
“You told me.” It wasn’t flattering. “You needed a decoy.”
“And I could’ve invited anyone, but I invited you. You thought it was a date.”