She wasn't sure if she groaned it aloud or simply thought it. Before she could reason enough to decide, he stopped.
He stood, her legs sliding to wrap around his waist. His palms flattened to the sides of the mirror behind her head before he drove home. Hard, deep, insistent.
Once. Twice.
Enough.
She bit his shoulder to stifle her scream of release. Her fingers groped for a firmer hold along his sweat-slicked back, dug, held as he bucked against her, pulsed, muffled his shout in her hair.
Aftershocks rippled through her, through him and back again to her, triggering another release. Muffled moans mingled with her name, his, until they both sagged back against the sink jabbing into her skin.
She dusted a kiss across his shoulder over the reddening patch already purpling where she had nipped him. So much for controlled emotions around Jack.
With Monica's body draped against his in the shower, Jack wondered when this woman in his arms would quit surprising the hell out of him. She'd sure knocked him on his ass with her "bossy" scenario.
Finally he'd gotten her into the shower, his original destination, but he'd been too overwhelmed to make it beyond the bathroom sink. And then overwhelmed all over again in the shower stall.
Just the memory of her hot mouth wrapped around him minutes ago left him aching to have her again. But first he needed to find his footing. He hadn't expected the night to end this way once he'd started telling her about Tina. No shit, he wasn't lying about being new to this deep-water stuff and he wanted some lighter ground back ASAP. "So what was your talent?''
"Huh?" Monica stared at him with dewy-dazed eyes, droplets clinging to her lashes from the spray beating against his back.
"For the Miss Texas Pageant. What was your talent?"
Smack. She swatted his wet butt. "Not funny, Korba."
Oh, yeah, lighter ground and familiar territory. "I knew you'd get around to spanking me eventually."
Her laugh floated on steam. "You can be such an ass."
"Flaming batons? 'Beer Barrel Polka' on the accordion, followed by the chicken dance?" He danced her right against the tile wall.
Her hands gripped his buttocks. "Are you mocking my scholarship pageant experience?"
"Not a chance. Just trying to satisfy my burning curiosity." He rocked his h*ps against her, something else entirely burning hot. "Yodeling? Because if fifteen minutes ago was anything to judge by, you yodel mighty damned good."
Smack.
"Please say you worked world peace in there somewhere."
Her cat eyes narrowed. "That was number two on my platform, right behind having all fliers neutered."
"Ouch! That one hurt worse than a spanking."
"Serves you right." She settled against him again, steaming water streaking over their wellwashed bodies. "Do you really want to know?"
"Yeah, Mon, I want to know everything about you." Uh-oh. Seriousness slid in like a bogey from his six o'clock.
She hooked a finger in his dog tags, tugged him down, closer, until they stood nearly nose to nose. "I gave a demonstration on how to organize cabinets."
"Really?"
"No, you idiot." She released his dog tags to clank against his chest.
He traced the path of her dog tag chain down the side of one breast, up the side of the other. "But I'm an entertaining idiot."
"That you are." She kissed the base of his neck, sipped away a taste of the water with a flick of her tongue. "I needed money for med school. I've always wanted to be a doctor. Always. The military part came later and I'll thank God for the rest of my life for the fact that I ended up in an ROTC recruiting office all because I tripped on the hem of my dress during the evening gown competition. First runner-up only gets enough scholarship money for books along with a one year's supply of beef jerky."
No self-pity for this lady, she always met life head-on, made her own way. A veritable mountain of will.