Page 123 of On the Power Play

She grinned and dragged her teeth gently over the stubble on his jaw. “Oh, I know. I waited until your mom corroborated your abstinence story.”

Jack tensed. “She what?”

Delia laughed and strategically moved her hand until Jack dragged in a breath and held it. “She may have mentioned you hadn’t dated anyone in a long time.” Since Angie. She avoided saying her name just like he had. “You said you haven’t been with someone in three years. I haven’t been with someone in at least a year and a half, and I always get tested at my annual physical.”

Jack’s grip tightened on her hip. “You’re sure?”

Delia wasn’t sure about anything, but she knew she wanted this. She wanted him. Possibly more than anything she’d wanted in the known universe. She was drunk on the sound of his ragged breath, of the clench and release of his fingers against her skin.

“If you keep doing that, there won’t be any need for this discussion.” Jack’s voice was raw as he placed his hand over hers and interlaced their fingers, then drew her arm up over her head. He brushed his cheek against hers and pulled the lobe of her ear into his mouth. His tongue was hot against her skin, and Delia writhed against him.

Jack kept her tethered as his other hand found its way back to lace. “I think it’s your turn to teach me something.”

Delia whimpered. “I don’t . . . know any nursery rhymes.”

“Mmm. Good thing, what I’m hoping to learn would never be appropriate for a classroom.”

She breathed a laugh as Jack sank against her. She’d been exactly right. His hands were gentle and extremely capable. He was slow, tantalizing, and full of that storm she’d been desperate for.

Yes. Jack Harrison was an excellent lover, and for the first time since she could remember, Delia’s head was so full it was silent.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The room was dim when Jack awoke, with only a snatch of light sneaking in around the edges of the drawn curtains. His body ached, but at the same time was more settled than he could remember. He'd slept like a rock.

Delia breathed next to him. The sheets were crisp against his skin as he rolled to his side as quietly as possible. She laid sprawled on her stomach next to him, and even though he'd never asked her how she slept, this was exactly how he’d imagined her. Arms and legs splayed, hair mussed. Uninhibited and free.

Jack watched her for a moment as emotions swirled like a wind tunnel, each taking turns gripping his full attention. Love. Warmth. Gratitude. Pleasure. Disbelief. Guilt. He exhaled. Ah, his ever faithful companion. At least it had lessened. The hole inside his chest had started to stitch together—he could physically feel it shrinking even though he could still punch a fist through it.

He was allowed to want happiness. He was allowed to want this. He knew it, and yet the questions still came. Did this mean he didn't love Angie? Did she hate him for sleeping with someone else? Could he ever love someone the way he'd loved her?

Normally, the fact that he didn't have answers would have sent his stomach cramping, but this time they sat there, not sinking deep like usual. Jack moved closer and threw an arm over Delia's bare waist under the sheets, pressing against her like he had in her room the other night.

She drew her limbs in like a disturbed hermit crab. Her skin smelled like herbal hotel soap, not her regular floral, and he missed it.

Delia grabbed onto his arm, wrapping it more tightly around her. "Morning."

Jack kissed the back of her shoulder, and she hummed in her throat. Almost all the sounds she made sounded like singing, even the ones he'd drawn out of her the night before. His heart rate quickened remembering those.

"Someone's happy this morning," Delia teased, reaching behind her and slapping his hip.

"How could I not be?" He grinned and nuzzled into the hollow between her shoulder and neck.

Delia squeezed him out, laughing and rolling to meet his eyes. She cupped a hand over his cheek, and Jack wished he'd taken the time to pull back the curtains so he could see the colour of her eyes. She dragged her nails through his scruff. "What time is it?"

"I don't especially care."

Her grin widened. "Don't you have to meet your parents?"

Jack groaned and reached for his phone on the nightstand. He tapped the screen. "Nine fifteen."

"Hmm. And you have brunch at ten?" Delia trailed her hand over his stomach.

"Ten thirty." He sucked in a breath.

"Interesting."

"Very interesting." He rolled back to face her, pulling her flush against his front. "Am I allowed to kiss you?"

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