Excerpt From Jack Who?
The terrier sprinted ahead
stretching its leash to the max, and reflexively, her grip tightened. Three
rows down, the tip of the mentioned lightning bolt came into view, and her
steps slowed. Her thoughts were uncertain as she pictured knocking on the door
to a rock star’s mobile crib.
The door burst open stopping her heart for more reasons than startled surprise. The doorjamb framed the finest specimen of the male species she had ever beheld.
Her eyes were drawn first to the massive expanse of bare chest, and the six pack, just on the verge of an optical eight pack. A convulsive swallow tightened her throat. Fully inked sleeves tapered off between his shoulders and collarbone barely meeting at the throat. Denim jeans snugly encased his legs, and the button of the fly was open revealing the barest tip of hair on a flat abdomen. Reluctantly dragging her gridlocked gaze upward, past these heavenly sights, her look landed on his striking features and finally stopped on deep chocolate-brown irises.
A smile had worked well for her thus far, and somehow she summoned one yet received a scowl in return. Shaggy, dark hair brushed his shoulder when his chin directionally jerked toward the asphalt beside where she stood.
“What the hell are you doing with my dog?”
Jack was turning her on, simply by standing, more than Kel had affected her in the midst of so much more. Because of that, an override was occurring, her words and actions governed by libido and impulses instead of logic and instinct. He remained silent, assessing her next sip as closely as she had done his.
Relaxing into the sweet spell that seemed to settle around them, she whispered, “So, the best cure for stage fright...is this?” She tilted the bottle for an extra sensuous sip.
Dark eyes welded with hers conveying instinctive and primal understanding, male to female.
“Well, maybe not the best-best...” His voice deepened a few decibels, and the husky whisper was possibly the most sensual sound ever to reach her ears.
“What’s the best?” Her inquiry rode more on a breath than a whisper.
With her fiancé, she had made the first move hundreds of times and with college hook ups a few times when extremely inebriated. Now, despite this guy being a stranger and her being relatively sober, she tailed her fingers down bare skin, from the art just above the first row of pecks, to the still open fly.
Struggling for a casualness she couldn’t feel, she tipped the bottle for another sip and wanted so much more than that swallow. Not for a favor, or because he was famous. Simply because an intimate connection with him became something she needed– even if it only came down to her knees on the cool tiles of the floor.
Jack had more in mind. His bottle clinked as, reaching behind her, he deposited it on the granite counter top. Next, he used one long tan finger to hook a strand of her hair, pulling it over her shoulder.
Automatically, her body leaned into his as he closed the two steps between their toes. Her heart pounded hard, racing with the knowledge that she might be kissed by him...this man that awakened lusts of a nature that she had never felt in her twenty-two years.
The anticipation when his head dipped sent the blood roaring through her veins.
His lips angled against hers, testing with a frictional brush, then his tongue was swiping in a way that stole her breath. After a teasing pull with his teeth, he deepened the kiss, and her tongue eagerly mingled with his.
There was not a way to pinpoint what was different about this kiss from any other she had ever had, but it was incomparable.
Hot and sweet, it kept her hoping that it would never stop.