Page 43 of It's You
“I didn’t think you saw me.”
“I didn’t see anyone but you. That night was my last chance. To let you know, to try to let you know?—”
“Jack, you were my first kiss.”
She felt a jolt go through him at her admission. She leaned back in his arms, taking in the surprise on his face. The gold flecks burned like liquid copper in his eyes, flashing with need and hunger. He licked his lips and swallowed. That was her undoing.
I don’t care if you can hear me. I don’t care if we’re complicated. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense right this minute. I want you.
She placed her hands on either side of his face, tilted her head, and pressed her lips to his.
He growled, animal-like, desperate, slamming his body against hers, his hands clutching her backside and pushing her roughly up against him. She gasped in surprise, then sighed, her fingers curling until she held his face with her fists, barely able to stand, trying not to faint.
As if he sensed this, he suddenly lifted her off her feet. He carried her to the couch and placed her on her back, moving with her to rest on top of her, never breaking contact with her lips. He plunged deeper and deeper, taking over her mouth, and Darcy gasped and twisted beneath him, feeling a stirring in her belly she had never felt before. She drew her legs up to his waist and locked her ankles behind his back, cradling him, and felt him gasp with pleasure, his hands holding her face firmly, forcing her to keep meeting the hungry demands of his mouth. She moved her hands to his back, pushing his shirt up over his smooth, blistering-hot skin.
He broke their kiss and leaned back to help her finish the job, throwing his white shirt on the floor beside the couch. Darcy looked up at his chest, sitting up, pushing him back into a kneeling position. “Oh, Jack.”
She knew he was going to be well built, but she hadn’t quite expected this. This was the body of a god or a movie star, perfectly toned, strong, and beautiful…and covered in scars. He heaved in and out, panting, trying to catch his breath.
“What happened to you?” she murmured, her heart hurting for what he’d endured, the crisscrosses of scar tissue covering the expanse of muscle.
“I’ll tell you someday.” He took her hand, flattening it over his chest to reassure her. “None of it hurts anymore. All of it was needed to become who I am today.”
He let go of her hand, and she started touching him with tentative, then confident fingers, splaying them out as if to measure him. “How do you keep this up?”
He looked at her face, which must have been kiss-bruised and heavy-lidded. He flinched as she ran her fingers through the black hair on his chest. His ragged voice held a note of humor. “Darcy, I don’t date. I work…I work for…Ohhh…”
His voice trailed off as she leaned forward, pressing her lips against one angry slash of white under his left nipple. He lay back slowly, drawing her with him until she was lying across his chest, peppering his torso with kisses and licks. Finally, she straddled his lap and bent her head, finding his lips and kissing him gently, tenderly, like she would if she loved him, if she had always loved him.
He moved his hands down to the bottom of her sweater and tugged it up over her head, then reached up to cup her breasts. Darcy shuddered with pleasure as her nipples tightened instantly into pert peaks under his palm. He pushed the thin lace aside and leaned up, taking one in his mouth to suckle strongly,making her writhe against him, moaning in pleasure-pain. He moved to the other nipple to do the same, and Darcy couldn’t help gasping at the sharpness of the pressure, the heat of his lips on her sensitive skin. She ran her hands through his black hair, holding him against her breasts as he licked and circled. She grabbed handfuls of his hair, eyes closed, heart beating out of her chest.
He finally eased her down onto her back and kneeled on the floor beside her, leaning over her, kissing a path from her breasts, down over her belly to the waist of her jeans. He unbuttoned and unzipped them, slipping his hand under the waistband, under her panties, flattening his palm over the soft, springy hairs there. She breathed in sharply, and Jack looked quickly at her face.
Please let me, Darcy. Please let me touch you there.
How could she possibly say no? She had never felt anything as exciting, as hot, in her entire life. It was like she’d die if he didn’t move his fingers lower, if he didn’t touch the secret parts of her. She closed her eyes in acquiescence, and he moved his hand lower, one finger searching for the little button of pleasure hidden in the sensitive folds. When he found it, she bucked against his hand lightly, feeling her insides slicken in pleasure as a whimper escaped her throat. He rubbed lightly in hypnotic circles, then up and down, the occasional friction of his fingernail on her clit making her almost see stars.
His thumb took over his ministrations, and she felt one of his fingers move slower, stopping briefly at the opening of her sex before entering her body, sliding in slowly, the hot, wet walls of muscle clinging to the welcome intrusion. He moved the finger all the way in, then withdrew it slowly, his thumb still circling the hardening nub with increasing pressure. The world started swirling, and Darcy opened her eyes.
Please, Jack. Help me.
A second finger joined the first, hooking forward and pressing against the wall of her sex as his thumb rubbed the sensitive folds right above his moving fingers. Darcy threw her arm over her eyes, moaning as pleasure and urgency increased to such a climax that her body exploded. She bucked hard against his hand, moaning his name, stars bursting behind her eyes.
At the same time, it was as though her heart exploded too, and she felt the full, unbridled, unfettered force of her feelings for Jack Beauloup. Feelings that hadn’t lessened over the long years away from him, but had amplified to such a pitch that they crashed over her like sound, like waves, like certainty in a coupling fraught with ambiguity. She had argued with him about the binding, but she knew in that moment, as her heart contracted with the rest of her body, she was bound to Jack. She belonged to him, just as she always had.
He moved from the floor to sit on the couch, gently lifting her limp head onto his lap, then coaxing her into his arms, cradling her face against his chest.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, curling up against him and finally opening her eyes. She tried to catch her breath as shudder after shudder still racked her body.
“Easy, baby,” he said softly, stroking her hair and rubbing her back lightly. He pushed her hair gently off her forehead and kissed her tenderly.
She leaned back from his chest to catch his eyes.
That was the first time I ever…
I know.
He smiled and kissed her lips gently, nudging her head back to his chest. Darcy could hear the racing of his heart. The evidence of his arousal was still rampant in his lap, and he was probably aching. She leaned back to catch his eyes again, her starched New England sensibilities deeply relieved that shedidn’t have to articulate her thoughts aloud in order for him to hear them.
