A Date on Cloud Nine (19 page)

“It’s pretty rocky here. You might want to put on your shoes.”

When she opened her door, the overhead light showed how dirty she’d gotten the bottoms of her feet. “Nah, it’ll ruin them.”

Jake solved that quickly, bending down and draping her across his shoulders, uttering a very put on, he-man
growl as he straightened up again, making her laugh so hard she had to pee.

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I carried you out of the store.”

“Ah, so you
are
perverted.”

His bare hand grasped her naked leg. “You know, garter belts are a lot more fun when you have stockings attached.”

“I can slip some on,” she said wickedly, figuring she owed him any way he wanted her.

“Sweetheart, the next thing on you is gonna be me.”

A burning flame raced through her from head to toe, then returned to center and burned there, waiting for him to make good on his promise.

Dear Lord, if talk got her this hot, she wasn’t going to make it through the night.

As he thumbed open the back door, she slid to her feet and reached around from behind, blindly working on his zipper, ripping it down, dragging the coat from his shoulders. She tossed it toward a kitchen chair, neither knowing nor caring where it landed.

“Wait.”

“In your dreams, buster.”

He pulled her around him and grinned against her lips as she kissed him. “Oh, I think this could be better than my dreams, but…”

Whether he said more, she couldn’t say. She certainly didn’t hear anything. When he fanned those strong, stone-laying hands of his up alongside her face, holding her, making it impossible for her to continue blazing a path from his lips to his chest to points farther south, she
had to go still—well, all except her fingers—and listen.

“Lilly, I want you to be, no, I
need
to know you’re sure about this.”

“Does
take your clothes off before I rip them off
do it for you?”

“You were drugged.”

“It wore off.”

She pulled his shirt free from his jeans, liberating his skin to her touch. He felt
sooo
good. Ten times better than chocolate tasted. No, a hundred.

If he hadn’t had such a good hold on her, she would’ve had his shirt over his head before he knew it, but as it was, she couldn’t raise it any higher than his nipples. Which, as it turned out, made perfectly good targets for her fingers, and she rubbed and tweaked and generally drove herself more nuts than she appeared to be doing to him.

“I wouldn’t want you to wake up in the morning and regret this.”

“For Pete’s sake, Jake, I’ve been after you for two weeks.” She made short work of his buckle, button, and that zipper.

In a raspy voice now, he murmured against her hair, his breath hot on her scalp. “It’s important that…that I know…hell, I don’t know, but I’m sure it was something.”

She breathed against his lips, lifting herself up, her skirt hiking itself around her hips as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling herself in tightly to where his jeans were spread open and he had only briefs to protect his erection.

“See how strong I am, Jake? Feel how tight I can hold you?”

His murmur was unintelligible.

“Feel me move against you?”

“Shit, my jeans’re falling down.”

“Good.”

“No, you don’t understand.”

“I think
you
don’t understand.”

“If they fall down, I won’t be able to get us up the stairs.”

She took a long, long moment sliding down him, teasing him naughtily on the way, wiggling against him, feeling her own moistness before she let go and yanked his jeans up.

He jumped. “Uh, careful.”

“Okay, big guy, get us upstairs.”

He scooped her up, right back where she’d just been, sliding his large hands under her skirt and cupping her bare butt as her thighs locked his jeans safely in place.

“Hot damn, another thong,” he whispered raggedly. “Hold on tight.”

“Oh I intend to.”

His devastating grin indicated he was back in control, sure of himself, sure of her, certain he was going to give her the ride of her life.

They fell onto his bed together. Clothes flew every direction until they were both naked, and no matter how hard she tried to roll them over and get beneath him—because for this first time, she wanted him to be in control, really needed him to give her all the passion she’d dreamed of—he held her on top where his hands were free to roam, driving her slowly, madly insane with need.

Turns out his hands were highly accomplished with a lot more than laying stone and building gizmos. They were doing a fantastic job laying her and building her toward a shattering climax.

“Oh God, Jake,
now
.”

He shifted then, finally rolling to one side. Just when she thought
finally
, she realized he was reaching toward the nightstand.

Shit.
She didn’t need this. She was about to burst, swollen and wet with need, aching for him to push inside her, and he was maintaining a comparatively clear head, fumbling for the drawer. No way she was letting him get a condom.

“
Oh God, Jake
,” she gasped loudly, then louder again because it seemed to interfere with him grasping anything he didn’t already have his hands on—
her
. He moaned in response, which made her hotter and she thought she was going to come too early. She wanted it to be with him.

Catching him off guard, she grasped his shoulders and rolled the both of them over, away from the drawer.

“Lilly.” He started to say something, but then his mouth was all over her, tasting her, kissing her. His fingers dipped low between their bodies and played her intimately until she was mindless and breathless and boneless and desperate to feel him inside her.

“Now, Jake,” she whispered. “Please.”

It was the desperate
please
that did it. There was no nudging this or grasping that or pausing anywhere. She was ready, and he took her in one swift movement. The dense thickness of him touched every sensitive spot inside and out and sent her flying over the edge, begging him to come with her as he pounded into her again and again.

He wouldn’t have to ask how it was for her. Hell, the neighbors probably knew, even the geriatric ones who took their hearing aids off at night. He gave her more
than she’d bargained for, one orgasm after another until she thought she’d pass out.

When they finally lay still, arms and legs and sheets all tangled together while they caught their breath and let their heartbeats slow, he chuckled low and deep near her ear.

“Remind me never to take you to a motel.”

“Yeah, like that’d ever happen.”

“You wouldn’t go to a motel with me?”

“Shoot, I’m not letting you out of this bed until you’re too old to do it again.”

He sighed and laughed and rolled to the side, taking her with him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

She prayed that she wouldn’t be either, that she’d make her deadline.

W
hat an incredible night
.

Jake meant what he’d said when he told Lilly he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d promised her breakfast in bed, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be burned, so he kept a close eye on the bacon grilling in the Foreman and thick slices of French toast browning in a large skillet.

Man, could that woman make love.

Now normally, being a guy, he wouldn’t use that term in relation to sharing a bed with a woman he’d spoken to less than twenty-one days out of his entire life. It would’ve been something more basic like screw or fuck. But it hadn’t been basic screwing to him—love did that—and he was pretty sure it hadn’t been to Lilly, either.

She seemed to have a one-track mind recently, bent on getting him in the sack for what he’d thought would be a simple quickie—for her. Being with her could never be
simple for him. Once there, though, he sensed something totally different on her part, a real connection.

Not only had she been making love last night, but mad,
passionate
love. Missionary, on top, doggy style, positions that probably didn’t have names and variations on the ones that did. She’d been a woman possessed, insatiable—in a good way—and
determined
.

She’d been shy about making noise until he whispered how much it turned him on, which it did, then forget volume control. She hadn’t been shy about demanding what she needed—hell, what guy wouldn’t love that?

Her actions as much as told him he didn’t need condoms, so she was obviously in charge of birth control, which was a good thing, because he had a lot of lean years ahead, getting his business started up again. Given time, he’d pull in enough money to support her.

Well, except for her charity habit. He didn’t mind her giving her money away—it was hers—but he had plans for his, so there’d be no joint bank account.

She strolled into the kitchen then, wearing his favorites—a red thong and garter belt, a lacy bra cut so low it was probably illegal in forty states, a pair of stockings, and
oh yeah
, those strappy high heels.

“You have a thing for red, don’t you?”

She shot him a saucy grin. “I have a thing for you.”

“Really? I’m glad you told me, because, you know, I wasn’t sure last night. All that moaning, it could mean anything.”

He turned the toast, his hands itching to get back on her breasts again. He’d promised her breakfast, though. But then she swooped up behind him, lifted his unbut
toned shirt, and rubbed her barely covered breasts against his back.

“We’d better do it again, then,” she said. “You let me know which part you don’t understand, and I’ll explain it. In detail.”

To hell with food
. With his body leaping to attention, he slammed off the burner and unsnapped his jeans. If she expected him to keep up this pace—not that that was a complaint, because it wasn’t—eventually they’d have to raid his trunk. He had a nice selection of new toys they could try out together.

“What’s that?”

He followed her curious gaze to the multimeter he’d left on the table. It was small, not much larger than a pack of cigarettes, and he’d brought it upstairs to test her charm bracelet, but later. Much later.

“That, sweetheart, is how I’m going to prove there’s nothing heavenly about your bracelet.”

“So you say.”

“So I do.”

Abruptly, she pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.

“
Now?
” he asked with disbelief, and she said, “So there’s nothing between us.”

On his way to another chair, he trailed his fingers along her bra strap, over her shoulder, and down to the lacy cup. “
Nothing
sounds great.”

“Later, I promise. Now, what do I do?”

He patted the table. “Rest your arm here, sweet cheeks.”

“Keep up that sexy talk, and more’ll be cooking in this kitchen than breakfast.”

“Countertop sounds interesting. Hold still.” He hooked leads to clips, and clips to her bracelet. His fingers were bumbling and uncooperative with a greater desire to be unhooking something else.

“Hey, I’m not the one dropping parts.”

“Watch here.” He tapped the readout. “If there’s any actual—as opposed to static, mind you—if any actual electricity runs through the bracelet, you’ll see the needle move. See? Deader’n a doornail.”

She snickered. “You call this scientific?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Yeah, watch the meter. Go on, I don’t want you to miss this. Now ask me to write you a check for three million dollars.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter—”

“Ask me.”

“Lilly, I’m trying to tell you—”

“Afraid I’m right?”

He sighed. It’d be simpler to give in and get this over with so he could get it on with her again. “Okay, write me a check for three million dollars.”

“Demand it.”

He said it again, the roughness in his tone belied by trying very hard not to laugh at himself.

“Okay.” She sounded surprised when nothing registered. “Since I’m all connected here, you go get my checkbook and a pen.
There
! Oh, you weren’t looking.”

He’d seen the spike out of the corner of his eye, but it had to be a fluke, so he didn’t admit it. “Where’s your purse?”

“Oh. Hm.” She glanced around the room. “Must still be in the car.”

“Don’t move.”

Not that he thought she would. He was pretty sure she was as eager as he to get this behind them. Then they could get on the counter or go upstairs or do it anywhere she wanted. He ran for the car, nearly tripping over the cat as it made a beeline for the kitchen.

Upon Jake’s return, Lilly flipped open the checkbook and dated the top check.

“Watch that meter. If I get all the way through this, you’re going to win a whole lot more than a measly bet.”

“Lilly,” he said softly. “I don’t want your money. It doesn’t matter. Even if you’d asked Brady to change the policy—”

“Which I didn’t.”

“—you’re not the kind of woman who’d take—”

“Damn straight. But I feel I owe you some—”

Lilly’d barely begun writing his name when the meter spiked to the top, and the charge catapulted her right out of her chair. She would’ve sprawled on the floor if he hadn’t reached out and grabbed her, albeit awkwardly.

No way!

Jake began analyzing, hypothesizing why it had happened and why the needle still vacillated about midway. But it was hard to concentrate with Lilly straddling one thigh in next to nothing, begging him to tear up the check, and the cat clawing him above the knee in a frantic attempt to join her.

He sent Mooch flying, then tapped the multimeter, turning it this way and that, examining it. “But—”

“
Now
.”

“Oh.” He ripped the check in half, not because he believed in any angel crap, but because he hated the strain and irritation in Lilly’s voice, and he’d do anything to
stop her from being hurt—even though this couldn’t possibly be the cause. No way.

Still, meters didn’t lie.

She sagged in relief against his chest, her head tucked up against his neck in a pose of complete trust. With each shred of the check, he discarded one theory after another.

Mooch took a retaliatory bite out of his ankle and glared up at him. Relishing the feel of Lilly’s soft hair against his cheek, Jake muttered, “Wasn’t me who hurt her.”

Though he was at a loss to say exactly whose fault it was.

With Lilly’s heat straddling his leg and her breasts spilling out of the low-cut lace right in front of him, right below his mouth, his concentration was irrevocably broken. He groaned as he said, “Oh, this is so not fair.”

“Not convinced?” Her lips brushed softly against his neck.

“Only that something other than static’s going on, but I need time to figure out what.”

“And you want to do that
now
?” She wiggled on his thigh.

At the moment, rational breakthroughs were impossible. Shoving the equipment aside, Jake surged to his feet and sat Lilly on the table, missing her grip on his thigh already. “Obviously I didn’t do my job last night.”

She chuckled deliciously as he towered over her. “You mean it gets better?”

“I don’t know about better. But I remember you begging me to fuck your brains out, and it appears to me that you’re still thinking.”

“I didn’t!” Her lustful laugh was laced with invitation.

“Oh yes.” He bent her backward until she was spread on
the table before him, the narrowness of her thong barely concealing her from him. “You most certainly did.”

“Well then, big guy.” She dipped her thumbs into the top band and V’d it downward, out of his way, revealing the nest of curls he hadn’t seen in oh, twenty minutes or so. “Better get to it.”

An hour later, Jake poked at the French toast in the cold skillet, wondering if it was salvageable. He turned the burner back on to give breakfast another try.

Lilly was still upstairs, singing bawdy love songs in the shower, and he was tempted to turn the stove off and go see what else she came up with, but the phone rang.

Andrew opened with a smooth, “Congratulations on taking round two.”

“Go to hell.”

“Don’t you want to know what round one was?”

“Go fuck yourself, Marquette.”

Andrew laughed. “Oops, can’t say over the phone. You probably have
three million
ways of bugging it. Father warned Brady not to put money into your little side business. It wasn’t right.”

Brady’d understood his family better than Jake thought, whereas he’d just underestimated them.

“Oh,” Andrew continued, “you know that three million dollar life insurance policy Lilly’s buying?”

He didn’t.

“Don’t count on it either.”

Wow
was Lilly’s opinion of the passionate night she’d wanted and received.
Double wow
—she’d gotten a morning
of it, too. If she died right now, in this shower, she couldn’t say she hadn’t had the best time of any woman ever.

She felt boneless.

She ached deliciously in all the right places.

She couldn’t stop singing.

When Jake had shared the shower with her earlier, she’d teased him with lusty, improvised lyrics like
I could have spread my legs
and
Get me to the bed on time
. When she belted out
Murdoch is a girl’s best friend
, he grinned mischievously and said he’d heard that vibrators were a girl’s best friend. Then he was off to salvage their breakfast.

And as sure as she was standing under the most delicious spray of pulsating hot water, her night hadn’t been just about sex. Jake was too tender, too playful, too powerful, and far too generous to be just about sex. He didn’t have to say it; she could see it in his eyes, feel it in every touch of his skin against hers, hear it in every word he murmured, every query as to what she liked and how she wanted it.

Now that she’d finally gotten him in bed and knew he’d be back for more, she needed to bone up on increasing her chances of conception. Not only did she want that baby, she wanted Jake, every night and every day, forever.

She enjoyed the shower until she ran out of hot water, thinking mostly of Jake, grateful that he was an adventurous and generous lover. Afterward, she sprinkled in a few plans for her day and the week ahead: giving money away and disposing of more personal assets, like her wedding and engagement rings. Nothing that would interfere with their nights.

“Hungry?” Jake asked when she strolled into his room, wrapped in one navy towel, blotting her hair with another.

He was lounging on the bed, his dark blue robe belted
so loosely that it didn’t even cover his smooth chest, and he was halfway through a heap of French toast, smothered in syrup and heavily dusted with powdered sugar.

“It’s not as good as the first or second time I cooked it”—he winked—“but it’s passable.”

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

“Are you kidding? You’re insatiable. Eating while you’re in the shower’s the only chance I get to fortify myself. I have to keep up my energy, you know. Here, sit down, have some.”

She crawled onto the bed and opened her mouth as he aimed a forkful her way.

“Oh my gosh, you think that’s not good?” She caught a dribble of syrup running down her chin and sucked it off her finger. “No wonder you’re such a great lover. Are you a perfectionist at everything?”

“I’m great, huh?”

The light in his eyes danced, and she hoped he wasn’t going to demand a list of his many ways. “Shut up, you know you are. I told you so often enough.”

“Ninety times, at least.”

“Maybe if you count by tens.”

“Here, have another bite. Not to spoil the mood or anything, but Andrew called while you were in the shower.”

She couldn’t talk with her mouth full, so she squeaked something that sounded like
What’d he want?

“He says you’re buying life insurance.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “That does it. I need a new agent, too.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. This doesn’t have anything to do with paying me back, does it?”

“Jake, I meant it when I said I’d find a way. And if some
thing happens to me before I do, then that base is covered.” She grabbed his hand, steering more food her way.

“Boy, you really worked up an appetite, didn’t you?”

“Mm-hm.”

He set the plate aside and kissed away her pretty pout. “Listen, before we get sidetracked…After talking to Andrew, I know who—not how or when, but
who
—changed the beneficiary. If anybody owes me anything, it’s the Marquettes.”

“Can we prove it?”

He snorted. “Frank Marquette has never been caught at anything yet.” He took her hands in his. “While we’re on the topic of money, there’s something I know Brady’d want me to pass on to you, about investing money back into the family business.”

“As if.”

“I know, but I can’t stop thinking about it, just in case. The reason he and I went into business together was because he eventually wanted to distance himself from the rest of his family. I’m sure he wanted to protect you.”