Page 69 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

* * *

A warm, hard chest is pressed against my cheek as the world sways around me. Confused, I lift my heavy eyelids and find myself in Jack’s arms.

“What are you doing?” I croak, my voice rusty from sleep. He must’ve turned off the tv after I fell asleep on the couch. And now he’s taking me to my room.

Pushing my door open with his shoulder, he carries me toward the bed before gently setting me down on the mattress.

“I was putting you to bed.” His deep voice hits me in all the right places as the blanket is pulled up to my chin. Like he’s tucking me in for the night. The gesture makes me smile but leaves me more confused than ever.

“So we’re not going to fuck?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Is that your guilty pleasure, Bianca? Good sex?”

“Didn’t used to be, but you might be changing my mind on that.”

With another breath of laughter, he teases, “Is that all I am to you? Good dick?”

“I’m not sure what you are to me anymore,” I admit, surprising us both with my honesty.

His calloused fingertips scrape against my cheek as he tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear that’d fallen from my messy bun earlier.

“Ditto,” he murmurs.

With a soft, contented sigh, I grab his wrist to keep him from pulling away. “Thanks for tonight, Jack.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he returns. “I needed a break from…everything.”

“Is that all I am to you?” I counter, using the same tone he’d perfected from a minute ago. “A distraction?”

Dragging his fingers along my jawbone, he studies me carefully, and I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking.

“I’m starting to think the rest of the world is the distraction.” He bends closer, his weight pressing me into the mattress as he tilts my head to meet his lips. The kiss is…everything. It isn’t fueled by lust or built-up frustration. He isn’t trying to prove anything with his touch. And he isn’t taking like every other man who’s touched me in my life.

“Tell me I’m more than good dick, Bianca,” he whispers against the column of my throat before peppering open-mouthed kisses along my jaw.

I lift my chin and close my eyes, savoring his touch like a glass of red wine. Like it’s an indulgence. One I rarely allow myself to taste. I know how much I could regret it in the morning, but I’m too weak to torture myself any longer by resisting it.

“Tell me,” he pleads. His hands brush against my bare arms and leave goose bumps in their wake. Their promise to deliver a heady pleasure I’ve only experienced with him threatens to turn me into a puddle if I weren’t already lying down. But it’s more than physical with him. More than good dick. And that’s terrifying as hell for a girl like me. A girl who has spent the last decade selling her body for money. Because with Jack, my brain doesn’t disconnect and my heart doesn’t, either.

“Tell me,” he repeats on a breath.

My tongue darts between my lips before I squeeze my eyes shut and admit the truth to both of us. “You’re more than good dick, Jack.”

He swallows my confession with a kiss that makes me dizzy. His tongue drags along the seam of my mouth, tasting me before I open up to him and return the motion. This time, we aren’t dueling for power. We’re introducing our souls to each other, peeling back the armor we’d both built around our hearts while praying we won’t both end up broken by the end of this.

Which is selfish of me. So damn selfish. Because I know the truth. We’ll both be broken when he finds out who I really am and what I really did for years to keep my family––the family I hate––out of debt.

I wish I could erase my past, but I can’t. Just like how I can’t erase my feelings for the man on top of me as he slowly peels away our clothes before entering me with a gentle thrust that makes me gasp.

My husband.

My guilty pleasure.

The one who will finally manage to break me.

But I’m too weak, too selfish, to prevent it.

22

---