Flirting with Disaster (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 2)

“A lot?” he asked.

“Maybe. I bet you never forget to run the dishwasher. I bet you clean the kitchen every night before bed.”

He shrugged. “Only when I’m home.”

They laughed their way through the piece of pie, and by the end of it, Tom had almost forgotten why he was there, the same problem he had every time he came to her place, only now the stakes had gotten higher.

Now he was lying to his boss, lying to the FBI, lying to her. He parted his lips, drawing in a long breath while he braced himself to speak words that would blow apart the safe world she’d made for herself.

And then she kissed him.

She tasted of the same cherries that he’d eaten, but they were somehow sweeter on her tongue. Richer. Or maybe that was just her body and what it meant to him now, because the very first taste of her reminded him of pure pleasure and how much he wanted more.

He slanted his mouth over hers, taking her tongue deeper as he slid his hands up her thighs. She was wearing leggings under her black sweater, and he could feel every curve of her leg, and he wanted those curves on him. She seemed to have the same idea, because she slipped her thigh over his and shifted until she was straddling him. He was hard in an instant.

He slipped his hands down her back and realized that this sweater held a secret. She was naked underneath. His hands slid along her curves, feeling nothing beneath the thin material. He feathered his thumbs over her ribs. She stretched up, as if trying to draw his hands higher.

Following her movement up, his hands found the undersides of her breasts. So soft and warm and irresistible. He cupped her, memorizing the weight of her as she eased away from his kiss and lowered her eyes to watch.

The neckline of her sweater had dipped tantalizingly low. He pressed a kiss to the bare skin there and then another. Her breathing quickened at that soft touch then caught in her throat when he found her nipples through the sweater and squeezed.

He’d meant to tease her for a while, but why tease her when he could be looking at her bare breasts? Teasing was for people who had time. They didn’t have time. A few nights, at best.

He dragged her sweater up, and Isabelle helped pull it over her head. God, she was beautiful. Not perfect and so beautiful for that, for being proud and easy with her body.

She leaned back against the edge of the table, letting him look at her, wanting him to look.

He slid his hands back up her ribs, this time watching as her skin went rough with goose bumps under his touch. Her nipples got harder, drawing tight before he even cupped her breasts. When he did, when he held her in his hands, his breath left him.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed, as he dragged his thumbs over her nipples. She sighed in response. He loved how rosy brown her nipples were against her pale skin. How they were so sweet and dark they made his mouth water.

He circled one with a light fingertip, loving the way she shuddered. He didn’t want to tear his eyes away from the lovely sight, but he managed to do it so he could see her face as he circled her one more time.

Her head was tipped down, her eyes watching her own breast as he teased it. Her lips parted on a breath. When he pinched her nipple, her teeth pressed into her lower lip. He kissed the spot on her lip she’d just bitten, his hands sliding down to wrap around her waist.

As much as he wanted to scoot her hips forward so he could press her against his erection, he lifted her up instead.

She stood before him, smiling slightly as he stripped down the tight layer of her pants, taking her panties with them. “I like this,” she said as she stepped out of her clothes and kicked them aside.

“What?” he asked, distracted by the pretty sight of the dark triangle of curls covering her pussy.

“I like you in your suit. You look so severe. And me...I’m so naked.” She scooted onto the table then hooked her feet behind his knees to pull him against her. “Your clothes feel wicked against my skin.”

He obliged her by leaning down, pressing her to the table, sliding his hand along her naked thigh and hip as he pressed his cock against her. “You look wicked,” he growled.

“Good.” She was still smiling. Still slightly removed and enjoying the tease.

His anger surged back, surprising him. It was all mixed up with his lust for her. He wanted her to give him something. To give something real. He’d shown her something vulnerable, and she still held everything back.

He slid a hand between her legs, found slick heat and pressed two fingers deep inside her.

Her neck arched as a cry tore from her throat. She wasn’t removed anymore. She was stretched out and naked and tipping her hips up for more. He slid his fingers inside her, moving slowly, watching the way she met his rhythm. She was looking at his face now, her lips parted, her gaze steady and unashamed of what she wanted. His thumb touched her clit, and she inhaled so sharply that air hissed past her teeth.

Tom smiled and slipped his fingers free. “Don’t move,” he murmured as he shrugged off his suit jacket and took off his tie. He set his gun and harness on top of a chair and threw his jacket over it then rolled up his sleeves, aware of Isabelle’s eyes on his hands.

He put those hands on her thighs, easing her legs farther open before he went to his knees before her.

The taste of her flooded his tongue as he put his mouth over her pussy and sucked gently at her clit. Her cry filled his ears. When he felt the bud of her clit get harder, he worked his tongue against her. Lightly at first then with more pressure and speed as she groaned her approval. Her fingers clutched at his skull, and when he reached a hand up to pinch one of her nipples, she bucked against him.