Beauty from Surrender (Beauty 2)

I turn the water on as hot as I can tolerate and step under the raining heat. It feels good and I warm up in a matter of minutes. I use his masculine products to wash my hair and body and I remember the way these scents mix with his skin to create the most intoxicating essence. Oh, I have missed his smell.

I hurry through my shower because I'm eager to be with him. Next to him. Hopefully, under him.

Once I'm out, I blow-dry my hair using the hotel-provided dryer. I flip my head up and my tresses are wild and untamed. I could really use a brush. I rummage through my purse and find an old one floating around in the bottom. I brush out the tangles and wish I had a flatiron to smooth it down.

I use his toothpaste and my finger to brush my teeth before I slosh around a mouthful of minty goodness. I would've preferred to have found a toothbrush in my purse to the hairbrush.

Two luxurious velour robes hang on the back of the door. I slip one on. I don't really want to wear it. I'd like to hang it back on the hook and walk out naked. But I don't because he says he wants to talk.

I come out of the bathroom and see him sitting on the couch. He's traded his wet clothes for a T-shirt and lounge pants like he used to wear around Avalon on his days off. He's drinking from a short, clear glass containing a dark amber liquid over ice. I suspect it's some kind of whiskey, which isn't like my Jack Henry at all. He never drank straight whiskey before and I'm suddenly more afraid than I already was.

I stop just outside the bathroom, unsure what to do. He watches me from where he's sitting. He seems looser than when we arrived, and I wonder how many of those little amber drinks he had while I was in the shower.

He holds up his glass. "Want a drink?"

"No. But thank you."

He shakes his glass to settle the ice. "Come sit with me."

I don't say anything but I walk over and lower myself onto the seat right next to him. I don't know if that's where he wants me, but it's where I want to be. I twist so I'm facing him—I have to look into his brilliant blue eyes. I don't want to go another minute without searching them for all the things he's about to tell me. Good or bad.

He puts his glass away and reaches for my hand. He brings it to his lips and closes his eyes as he presses a kiss into my skin and strokes my hand against his scruffy face. "I've missed you so much, Laurelyn."

My stomach flips before it races my heart up toward my throat to see which can get there first. He's facing me now and I can't resist reaching out to touch his cheek. "I've missed you too—more than you could ever know."

He turns his face toward my palm and covers the top of my hand with his. "Believe me—I know all too well what it's like missing you. I've been a mess since you left me. I thought I would lose my mind before I found you. You didn't make it easy on me, Miss Laurelyn Paige Prescott."

He just said my name—the whole thing. "How long have you been trying to find me?"

"Since the week you left."

Three months? My head is reeling. All this time I believed he hadn't given me a second thought because he was too busy screwing number fourteen. I was wrong. He's been looking for me all this time.

And that's when I can stand it no longer. I have to feel him against me. I put my knees on each side of his hips so that I'm straddling him, as I've done so many times before. I bring my mouth down on his and he reaches for the back of my head to pull me closer.

We shared a multitude of kisses while we were together, but never one like this. I can't label it because this isn't the kiss of a man making a temporary arrangement with a woman he cares nothing about. This is different from anything I ever felt while in Australia.

He pulls away from our kiss but presses his forehead against mine. "Please tell me you're not in love with him."

Him? Oh. It takes a moment for me to realize who he means—Charlie. "No! I'm not in love with him."

I look into his eyes and I can see that my denial isn't going to suffice. "But you let him touch you…and kiss you," he says through gritted teeth, as though it pains him to say the words.

I don't want to have this conversation right now. And even though I want him to take me to bed and make up for all the time we've lost, I know we have to talk about what he saw. "I've spent the last three months in agony believing that you cared nothing for me. I just needed an escape from this emotional roller coaster. I thought Charlie might help me forget you for a little while."

He drops his head back against the couch and squeezes his eyes shut. I can see he's about to say something and his expression tells me it isn't going to come easy for him. And that terrifies me.

Chapter Eight

Shit! Am I too late? Has she let this Charlie guy into her bed so she could forget me?

I am a selfish bastard, and undeniably a possessive one, when it comes to Laurelyn. I don't want her happier with another man and I'm petrified that she is. I fear he's giving her the things I didn't. And telling her the words I should have but refused to say because I was too stubborn to see the truth.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I brace myself for her answer to the question I'm bloody terrified to ask. "Did you let him f**k you?"

Laurelyn won't lie to me, but that's only one of the reasons I'm scared to death. I stare into the blackness behind my lids. I won't be able to bear it if she tells me she let him get inside her. I don't know how to handle that.

I feel her hands on my face. "Look at me." I don't know if I can until I know she hasn't been with another man. "Please, look at me."

I've never been more frightened in my life, but I open my eyes because it's what she's asking me to do. Her face is so serious. I think she's contemplating how to say the words, how to break my heart gently and kill me slowly.

I stare at her caramel eyes and wait for the verdict as she strokes her hands down my face. "Jack Henry." I hear her say my name and I'm ready to fall at her feet. "There's been no other man since you—not inside my head, my heart, or my body." She reaches for my hand and brings it to rest over her heart. "No other man will ever reside here. It's reserved for you alone."

I hear the breath I'm holding escape in relief. Words don't have a way of describing the solace I'm experiencing.

I feel her heart speeding beneath my hand where she's holding it. It's keeping pace with mine perfectly.

I bring my other hand to her chest and stroke my fingertips across her skin to push the robe away from her shoulders. I lean forward and inhale deeply after I place a single kiss between her bared br**sts. She has her own feminine fragrance—despite the scent of my body wash—and it drives me crazy. I can't get enough of it; I've missed it so much.