Can't Get Enough (12 page)

He must have been a mind reader, because no sooner had she wrapped her
fingers around his shaft than he was dragging her panties off
impatiently. She got lost in space and time for a beat as he swept a
knowing hand across her mound, his thumb finding the sensitive nub of
her clitoris unerringly. A shaft of pure desire rippled through her,
and while she was still recovering, he slid his fingers down to the
slippery folds of her inner lips. She clenched in anticipation of his
penetration, but he held back as his thumb continued to work her
clitoris.

"You want me inside you?" he whispered huskily at her ear, his finger
circling her slickness now, teasing. In answer she raised her hand to
her mouth and licked her palm, her eyes holding his as she slid it back
between their bodies and slicked her wet hand up and down his shaft,
her thumb gliding across the delicate velvet of the head of his penis
before sliding down again. As she had before him, he shuddered in
response, and she felt a surge of feminine satisfaction as a muscle
clenched in his jaw.

"You want to be inside me?" she whispered back, increasing the tempo of her movements, loving the feel
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of him in her hand.

Suddenly he twisted away from her, grabbing his wallet, finding a
condom and putting it on, all before she could protest his leaving.
Then she was on her back and he was positioned between her legs, his
body weight supported by his formidable arms as he hung above her.
There was a split second of thrilling anticipation and then he was
plunging inside her, filling her completely, so much so that the base
of his shaft ground satisfyingly into her swollen clitoris as he buried
his length in her. She gasped her surprise—it was never, ever this good
for her. It was as though he'd been made for her, as though she'd been
waiting for this moment for so long that she was on a hair trigger,
ready to explode. And then Jack was stroking in and out of her, each
sweep driving her crazy. She clutched at his back, his butt, his
shoulders, pushed her hips up to him, rocked away, gasped out his name.
Straining, wanting all of him, she chased the growing tension inside
herself, loving the harsh sound of his breathing as he rode her. Just
when she thought it couldn't get any better, he reached a hand between
them and found her clitoris again, swollen with need, ready for him.
One, two, three passes of his deft thumb and the tension inside her
broke in a cascading wave and she was falling apart in his arms, her
muscles clenching around him, her hips bucking, his name on her lips.

It was as though he'd been waiting for her, because no sooner had she
dissolved around him than he'd stiffened with his own orgasm,
shuddering into her, his face pressed against her neck. For a long time
afterward there was nothing but the sound of their harsh breathing.
Jack lay on top of her, still inside her, and she tried to pull the
fragmented parts of herself back together. She felt…consumed. There was
no other word for it. Utterly, completely consumed by the magic they'd
just created together. The best sex she'd ever had. Ever. Hands down.
The most amazing sensual experience of her life.

At last Jack raised his head, and their eyes met. He looked as blown
away as she felt, his blue eyes incredulous as he looked deeply into
hers. A smile softened the curve of his mouth, and he opened his mouth
to speak—

The phone rang. They both stiffened. The phone sounded again, and Jack shrugged ruefully.

"I have to get that."

"I know."

He withdrew and rolled away from her in one smooth move, and the sudden
loss of skin contact made her feel inexplicably cold and alone.
Flushed, she watched as Jack reached for the phone.

"Yeah?" he said, one hand coming up to push the hair back from his
forehead. The action hid his face from her momentarily, just when it
was very important that she be able to see his face, his reaction. His
body seemed tight, defensive. What was he thinking? His hand dropped
down at last, and she studied him closely.

He glanced across at her, his eyes flicking down from her face to her
still-sprawling body. Suddenly she felt exposed, spread out in front of
him with her skirt rucked up, her bra pulled down. With trembling hands
she tugged her bra into place and slid her panties on before pushing
her skirt down, listening all the while to the cryptic, monosyllabic
conversation Jack was having with whomever was on the other end of the
phone.

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"Great, thanks," Jack said, at last placing the receiver back on the hook. He reached for his boxers before he spoke.

"Ted estimates about five minutes," he reported, and she nodded her
understanding. It was over. They were about to be rescued, and their
enforced encounter was at an end. Neither of them said anything as they
shuffled into the rest of their clothes. Claire didn't know what to
think or feel. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she was shocked
at what had just happened. She felt as though she was swimming in
treacle as she tried to analyze her feelings. It had been so good…so
intense. She'd never felt anything close to the kind of passion she'd
just experienced. But now it was over, and it was back to the real
world, to office politics and maneuvering and executive meetings ad
infinitum.

She shot a glance across at Jack, trying to work out what he was
thinking. They'd just had the wildest, most uninhibited sex in all the
world. Was he feeling as shell-shocked and shaky and amazed as she was?

He glanced across at her, his expression unreadable, and her spirits
sagged. Of course he wasn't. She was kidding herself. He was probably
thrilled to be getting out of here. As she should be. What had just
happened had been an aberration, an insane one-off that would never
have happened outside of this very particular set of circumstances.
Hell, it probably happened to him every second day—this was the office
stud they were talking about, after all.

"They're winching us to the nearest floor," Jack explained belatedly.
They'd pry the doors open there, and then they would go their separate
ways. This moment, this incredible, challenging timeout from the normal
world, would be gone forever. Claire found herself reaching into her
bag, grabbing one of her business cards and a pen. Urgent, she
scribbled her home number on it, not thinking, just feeling. She'd just
shared the most extraordinary physical connection with this man. It had
been more than great sex—surely she hadn't imagined it?

Surely, he, too, must think that there was something undiscovered
here—something with so much potential that it would be crazy to walk
away from it?

"Here," she said softly, and when he met her eyes she saw Jack's
confusion and amazement and she felt a surge of confidence as she slid
the card into his hand.

"My home number," she said huskily.

Before he could respond, the elevator lurched up several feet, and the
sound of screeching metal filled the car. Slowly the doors slid open to
reveal a crowd of onlookers and rescue workers. She and Jack were swept
up by their various assistants and colleagues, and before she knew it,
Jack was heading one way down the hall, and she was being ushered
another. She glanced over her shoulder once, but he was listening to
something his assistant was saying and he didn't see her. It was almost
as though it all had never happened. But she remembered the look in his
eyes as she slid the card into his hand.

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He'll call,she assured herself fiercely.
He has to after what just happened between us….

JACK PROPPEDClaire's business card on his hall bureau as soon as he got
home, liking the invitation and potential contained in that small piece
of card. It was a no-brainer, really. He'd just had the best sex of his
life, and she'd told him to call her. What man wouldn't want more of
what he'd just tasted?

Still, there was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it
wasn't until he was shucking his clothes in the bathroom and stepping
into the shower that he realized he couldn't possibly call. Because
there'd been that moment afterward, when he'd still been inside her.
He'd looked down into her eyes and seen so much vulnerability and
surprise and amazement in her face. And he'd felt a weird surge of
protectiveness and tenderness that had nothing to do with hot sex or
physical chemistry…. Every survival instinct he possessed screamed
"Run." And he was used to following those instincts—not for nothing had
he remained single all these years.

The bottom line was that Claire Marsden intrigued him and attracted him
in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable, and every
instinct told him that that was very dangerous to his status quo, hot
sex or no hot sex.

Even as he acknowledged this and accepted it, his body protested. How
could he walk away from something so hot and intense? His hands curved
reflexively as he remembered the weight of her breasts, and he closed
his eyes for a brief moment and groaned with frustration as he
remembered the taste of her and the smell of her and the feel of her.
She'd been pure desire, uninhibited, wild. Tight and wet and so
responsive, her body seemingly attuned to his naturally.

He made a disgusted noise as he registered that he was now fully erect
and aching for round two with Claire Marsden . Brutal, he switched the
shower to cold and stood with gritted teeth under the punishing spray
for a full five minutes, trying to purge the memory of her silky skin.
Because it wasn't just about animal attraction. There was more—that
wasn't the only thing that drew him. He admired her bravery in holding
up under the ridiculous conditions Morgan Beck had imposed on her. He
thought she was funny and clever. And for some reason, he'd told her
about his brother when he hadn't spoken about Robbie with anyone—family
included—for more than a year. And that was the scary part. Because
even now he was wondering if she was okay, wondering what she was
thinking. Perhaps she was in the shower, too….

He stepped from the shower and swiped at the water on his chest and
arms with a towel. He couldn't call her, it was as simple as that.
Claire had to be off-limits. He liked her, and he couldn't raise her
expectations. He wasn't a forever kind of guy, and she was a forever
kind of woman. It was never a good combination, and he didn't want to
hurt her.

And she scares the crap out of you,an honest little voice chimed deep
inside him. That didn't mean he wasn't tempted, however, when he passed
that taunting white rectangle an hour later. Fortuitously, he had his
portable phone in hand, and he almost dialed her number. Almost. It was
exactly because he wanted to call her so much that he didn't. There was
something different about Claire, about the way she made him think and
feel. And it was distinctly unsettling.
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No, she was best set to one side and avoided. Too much at stake, too
hard. Too daunting and demanding. Repressing a small pang, he tossed
out her card.

He decided to organize some assignments that would take him out of the
office, but then the memory of his recent meeting with Morgan rang in
his mind. Damn it, he was expected to be on hand to play macho man for
old man Hillcrest. How was he supposed to resist having his way with
Claire when he was supposed to be her associate editor?

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, catching sight of himself in
the mirror as he paced. He paused, leaned in to look himself in the
eye. Could he trust himself to work side by side with Claire and not
give in to the impulse to touch her?

Not a chance. Unless certain parts of his body came with an off switch
he hadn't been aware of previously, the only way to stop himself from
making a fatal mistake was to pull back as far as he could go.

It wasn't as if it was a tough decision, anyway. In many respects,
getting to see Claire a lot was the only attractive aspect of the whole
arrangement Morgan had proposed.

Who in their right mind would want to be the token anything on a
project? Not Jack Brook, that was for sure. He'd been too taken by
surprise to put up a good fight when Morgan had sprung the idea on him
and Claire today, but he wasn't hot to put his hand up for credit on a
project he'd had no involvement with. It was unethical, and unfair to
Claire.

He padded into the bedroom, his decision made. First thing tomorrow he'd call Beck and make his position clear.

CLAIRE FORCED HERSELFto go for a run, despite the burning urge to sit
by the phone and will it to ring. She had an answering machine, and it
would take a message if Jack called while she was out. She only had to
repeat this to herself five times before she could force herself out
the front door of her apartment. All other considerations aside, she
had only two more weeks of training until the finals and she hadn't
done all this hard work to blow it off because she and Jack Brook had
had wild animal sex in the elevator at work. Every time she thought
about it she battled a wash of embarrassment, closely followed by a
rush of desire. She was going crazy pacing around her apartment,
second-guessing herself, staring at the phone.

So now she was ignoring the burning muscles in her thighs and pushing
herself harder up the hill. She forced herself to go past the car
dealership where she usually turned for home, then stopped in her
tracks for a beat as she caught sight of a red Mustang convertible
holding a place of pride in the center of the yard.
Well, hello, old friend,
she thought, remembering the ad that had kept her entertained for a
full fifteen minutes that afternoon. The car looked much better in real
life—shiny and red and fun. Pity she wasn't a convertible kind of girl,
she mused a little wistfully as she pushed on up another hill, her mind
almost immediately reverting to its default position of wondering what
Jack was doing right now, if he'd called, and what would happen next.