* * *
Donovan must be dreaming. Or maybe she’d perished in the Canadian wilderness because this right here? This was heaven. Waking up beside Jack Simon after a night of lovin’ sure as hell was her idea of bliss.
He was on his back, one arm flung above his head, the other resting on her hip. Her leg was tucked between his, and as she lay on her side gazing up at him, she knew that she could spend hours doing nothing but watching him. It was a total high school moment. An, I’m-fifteen-and-crushing-huge kind of moment, but she didn’t care.
His thick hair was a mess, and it gave him a boyish look. Coupled with his five o’clock shadow, that beautiful, sculpted mouth and eyelashes any woman would kill for, he was sexy as hell. He was sexy and yummy and at the moment, Jack Simon was all hers.
The storm broke sometime in the night, and the sunlight streaming in from the windows bathed them both in warmth, but the rays gave Jack an almost ethereal look.
Ethereal on Jack was damn hot.
Donovan watched him, listened to his breathing and when she laid her head on his chest, she loved the sound of his heart beating slow and steady. Damn, but she missed this. Waking up with Jack.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she sniffled, swiping at them. No more of that shit. She was done with all of it. Done with feeling sorry for herself. Done with living a life through eyes that were half dead. Done denying that this connection was ever going to go away. There was no chance in hell of that happening.
She winced and eased her body a bit, but it was no use. She was sore in places she hadn’t known existed. How much of it was from her night of sin or how much from her pathetic adventure in the great outdoors was anyone’s guess, but it was a good sore nonetheless.
Sore meant she’d survived that long trek into the bush.
Sore meant that she’d had one hell of a hot night with a man she loved.
And pain? Well, pain just meant that she was living.
“Jack,” she whispered. “Are we going to make it?”
He didn’t answer, of course, because he was still asleep, and she kissed his chest, laying her cheek there again so that she could keep listening to him. He was like a melody she hadn’t written yet. A melody slowly coming to life. She didn’t want to think about all the hard stuff still ahead. Didn’t want to think about Cooper Simon or Derek McKenzie or the many scenarios that could still play out.
All she wanted to think about was how good it was to be here. In this moment with Jack.
Now, maybe Donovan was doing what her mama says she always did. Pulling an O’Hara (as in Scarlett), which basically meant putting off today for a chance at tomorrow. But she didn’t care. Nope. Donovan had other things on her mind.
She moved so that she was on top of a Jack, smiling wickedly at the pleasure that erupted all over her. She slid her leg so that her soft folds were pressed against his hard thigh and slowly she gyrated her hips.
Nice. She pushed into him harder.
Very nice.
She was already wet. So wet. And licking her lips, breaths falling in small pants at the sensation of his hard skin against her moist center, she continued to mov
e.
Her breasts were already swelling, the nipples taut and pebbled, as she slowly kissed his chest and ran her hands up his shoulders. The man was built like a god, and she smiled when she felt his cock start to thicken against her.
Moving onto her knees Donovan stared down at Jack. She bent forward and her breath caught when her sensitive nipples scraped across his chest. She brushed thick hair off of his forehead and kissed him softly on the mouth before heading lower.
The ache between her own legs intensified as she made her way down his abdomen, and she whimpered—like a baby wanting more. His cock wasn’t fully erect yet—she glanced up half expecting to find his dark eyes on her—but he was still asleep.
“Not for long,” she whispered.
Donovan tossed her long tangled hair over her shoulders and slid her hand along the base of his cock. She stroked it, slowly, carefully, before teasing the head with her tongue. When he jerked and swore, she looked up at him with a smile.
“Good morning, Jack.”
He opened his legs giving her all access, and she laughed. “Seems to be,” he replied, a lazy grin on his face.
Donovan didn’t wait. She bent down and took him into her mouth, her tongue sliding underneath the head. She put pressure there, with her fingers and her tongue and loved the way he shifted beneath her. The play of muscles in his thighs. The masculine scent. The velvety softness. The hard and straining cock.
“Jesus Christ, Donnie. Keep that up and this will be over before it begins.”