Montana Ice: A Small Town Romance - Book 2 Page 11

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I haven't written anything else.”

  Goldie's shoulders slumped, clearly disappointed. “Oh, I thought surely you and Jack would move things along.” She liked happy endings in real life as much as in her romance novels. Or she was fishing for me to kiss and tell.

  “He's leaving tomorrow sometime.” I tried to hide the sadness from my voice. Goldie could pick up on that better than a bomb-sniffing dog and explosives.

  “Tell him to stay,” Goldie said.

  “It's not that simple.” I idly stirred the fried rice around in the white container. “He has things to take care of. To work out. Goldie, he's got ten years of issues to deal with. I can't solve his problems for him, no matter how much I want to help. No matter how much sex we might have.” Besides, I’d already told him I wanted to be a reason he’d stay, and he obviously hadn’t listened.

  Saying the words made me sad. My life was here. His was two thousand miles away. To top it off, we hadn't even had sex. If Goldie knew, I'm sure she'd make him stay long enough for me to at least have one male-induced orgasm.

  * * *

  “Where are you?” Jack asked when he called me several hours later.

  I was happily settled back in my own house. After leaving Goldilocks, I'd quickly picked up my things from Violet's and headed home. Home. Thrilled didn't come close to how I felt to be back. My own bed, my own everything. I cranked the heat so it was warm and toasty then climbed into my bathtub filled with tons and tons of hot, scalding water. Oh, how I loved my hot water heater.

  “At my house.”

  “Your house? It's all fixed?” He sounded surprised.

  I smiled to myself as I played with the bubbles floating like islands in the tub. “Yup.”

  “What's that sound? It sounds like you're doing dishes.”

  “I'm in the bath.” I heard a strange noise over the phone. “Jack?”

  “Sorry, I think I just swallowed my tongue. What's your address?”

  Excitement raced up my spine. I told him. The line went dead.

  * * *

  “You're supposed to be in the tub. My fantasy driving over here was of you in the tub,” Jack said when I'd unlocked the door for him. He stood there with thick snowflakes in his hair and on the shoulders of his coat, his eyes raking over me, taking in my painted toenails, my just-shaven legs, my ratty robe, my wet hair.

  Smiling, I stepped back and let him in. “How were you planning on getting in then?” I asked, my hands pulling at the lapels on my robe, shivering. The floor was chilly beneath my bare feet.

  “I was going to break in. It didn't really matter as long as you were still in the tub.” His eyes moved once again over my body as if searching for contraband.

  With one foot, he kicked the front door shut behind him. With both hands, he grabbed hold of the ends of the tie about my waist and pulled me into him. The weak knot I had holding the front together came loose, the robe parting down the middle. Goose bumps rose across my body as my exposed skin was pressed against his cold jacket. And lower. His lips descended to mine in a quick, searing kiss. There was nothing gentle about the man who stood in front of me. He appeared to be on a mission and did not intend to fail.

  His tongue circled with mine, delved deep before his lips moved to kiss my eyes shut, my jaw, my neck, all the time his hands holding tightly to my sash, keeping me from moving away. Not that I wanted to.

  “You're wet,” he said, his voice a rough whisper by my ear. “I know it.”

  I tilted my head back for his mouth, which had found a delicious spot halfway down my neck.

  “No...no, I dried off in the bath—”

  Jack laughed against my neck, his hands found my waist and I gasped at how cool they were. One hand slid down past my belly button, lower still until he plunged not one, but two fingers into me.

  Oh my god. I went up on my tiptoes, but the pleasure of the bold contact made me gasp.

  “Here. You're wet here.”

  My inner walls clamped down on his fingers, wanting them to stay deep inside me. My knees crumpled beneath me as he slid in and out. The lightning quick pulses of pleasure radiated out of my core to every part of my body. Jack's scent swirling around us, his lips on my neck made me lose all practical thought.

  Jack pulled free, picked me up in his arms, my robe gaping open. I looked down at myself. One breast was exposed, just like the other time, the nipple tightening from the cool air, and Jack's gaze. He kept staring when he asked, “Where's your bedroom?”

  His voice was dark and gravelly.

  I pointed in the general direction, lost in a fathomless need. My body craved his touch. It had for years. I'd fought him for days—at least mentally—and knew when it was time to throw in the towel. Or, in this particular situation, maybe my old, frayed robe. Yes, he was leaving. Yes, it was going to hurt when he was gone.

  But this was Jack Reid. The Jack Reid of every one of my fantasies. What woman in her right mind turned down a hot, smart, hot, kind and did I mention hot, man who carried you to the nearest bed? I'd put up a good fight against the oh, so tempting Jack Reid, but I was just a mere woman. For once I wanted to do the wrong thing. And the wrong thing felt so right.

  Jack laid me down on the bed and spread the sides of the robe apart, exposing me to his gaze. For the first time. I'd dreamed of this moment and it was everything I'd imagined, and then some. He looked enthralled, lost, as if he was memorizing my every curve.

  “You're so beautiful,” he murmured, running his finger gently over my stomach, moving up to circle the curving slope of one breast, then the other. I watched his finger move, hoping, longing for it to brush over my nipples. His hand was so tan, so rugged next to my Montana pale skin.

  “I'm leaving tomorrow. Going back to deal with all the stuff I've done,” he said roughly as he caressed me with a tenderness that was my undoing.

  Jack closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. He fought an inner demon. “But I've got to touch you. Make you mine. You've always been everything that's right with the world.” He looked into my eyes. Pinned me in place with his storm swept, sea colored gaze. “I've been in love with you since I was seventeen. Seeing you again made me realize I hadn't stopped.”

  His fingers finally brushed over my nipple. He paused and watched as it pebbled hard beneath his touch. I arched my back and my breast lifted up into his palm, wanting, craving every part of him. He said he loved me. Had always done so. Those few words were like a balm, they filled up every nook and cranny of my heart and it overflowed. Just for Jack.

  “Please, Veronica, please tell me not to stop.”

  Right then, whether he knew it or not, he was doing the right thing. He was stopping. Waiting. Letting me dictate what happened next. He didn't have to ask, he could've just taken what he wanted, and he knew I wasn't strong enough to stop him.

  I placed a hand to his cheek, felt the rasp of his stubble, the hard bone beneath. He turned his head and kissed my palm, took hold of my arm and kissed the pulse point at the inside of my wrist.

  “Jack,” I said, my voice clogged with emotion. “Look at me.”

  He turned his eyes to mine, but held my wrist to his mouth still. His breath fanned hot against my skin.

  “You're a good man. No matter what you did, you're a good man. Your past doesn't dictate who you are. It's what you do in the here and now. You'll go and do the right thing.”

  Jack laughed silently, but it didn't show in his eyes. There, beneath the desire, was a bleakness that made me ache for him.

  “Am I doing the right thing now?” he asked, his voice rough with so many emotions.

  I nodded against the pillow, my wet hair wild about me. I'd fought my desire since I first laid eyes on him again, sprawled unconscious on Violet's floor. The love had never gone away for me either. The need always lingered.

  Even when he went back to Florida, he'd still be in my heart. But this night, this time together, was ours. The outside wor
ld—Violet, Crazy Lady Lorraine, lawsuits—was just that. Outside. Here, in my bedroom, it was finally, once and for all, just me and Jack.

  “It's right. Everything between us is right,” I whispered, taking his hand and placing it on my breast. “I love you, Jack. Don't stop.”

  Jack froze in place at my words, looked at me, searching maybe to see if I told the truth. He groaned and took a deep breath as if he still struggled, doubted. Then I saw something shift in his eyes. Worry and guilt were replaced by something else. I saw love. Lust, too. That combination, knowing he wanted me, body and soul, was the most amazing feeling ever. Knowing he felt it too made it even better.

  Jack yanked at the zipper of his jacket, sliding it down and ripping the coat off. His sweater, shirt, pants, boxers, everything followed. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a condom, tossed it on the bed.

  I stared at him, in all his naked glory. He was everything I'd ever imagined rolled into one, and then some. Hard muscles over tanned, smooth skin. A smattering of dark hair across his chest dipped lower, to a line that ran down to his magnificent cock. It was thick and long and everything Goldie's romance books talked about. But it wasn't fiction, it was pure, hard—very hard—fact pointed straight at me. And it was all mine.

  “It's big,” I commented, staring at him.

  “If you keep looking at it that way it's going to get bigger.”

  17

  Before I had a chance to think about that, he moved on top of me, one leg nudged between mine, spreading my thighs so he could settle between. He placed his forearms on either side of my head so our faces were close, so close I could feel his warm breath, see the dark flecks in his blue eyes.

  I saw him clearly in that moment—his frustration with the person he'd become. The boy he used to be. The man I knew he really was.

  I wanted it all. I ran my calf up and down his thigh. “Jack, please.”

  He lowered his head to mine, kissed me and I forgot everything but the two of us in this moment. He plunged his tongue into my mouth. His hands roamed my body, never stopping as if he were afraid I might disappear. I all but melted into the bed, his body so hot above me, his touch setting little fires everywhere his hands moved. He nibbled at my ear, my neck, my shoulder, lower to lick one hard nipple, then the other. Opening his mouth, he sucked on one, pulling it taut. A zing of pleasure shot to my core, and I felt wetness coat my thighs.

  “This isn't the girl's body you wanted at seventeen,” I said breathlessly, worried I might be lacking. My frayed robe and wet hair hadn't made me the alluring siren.

  He looked up at me from my breast. He flicked his tongue over the tight tip once, smiled like a Cheshire Cat. “I know.” He moved his head lower pressing kisses to my abdomen, my hip bone, and then moving to the center, blew out a hot breath against me there. “I bet that girl wouldn't have let me do this.”

  And then, spreading my thighs, cupping my butt with both hands, he pressed his mouth to me, his tongue darting out and circling me, up one side and down the other. Two fingers dipped in, moved in some magical way, and I exploded. Pleasure seeped into every cell of my body, hot fire racing through my veins. I cried out his name, my head thrown back against the pillow.

  Jack kept his mouth on me as I kept falling, falling forever. He didn't stop until I lay limp and sweaty, replete.

  I chuckled as he started kissing his way back up my sweat-slicked body. “You're right. That girl didn't even know what that was,” I said.

  He grabbed my hips and rolled us so he was on the bottom, I, on top. I adjusted my legs to straddle his thighs, looked down at him. “Veronica, seeing you this way, you're my undoing.”

  His hair was tousled, his skin hot under my palms. The crinkly hair on his chest was soft to the touch. “Ride me. I want to see your pleasure when you come again.”

  I looked into his eyes, saw everything there. Us.

  I reached down between us and took him in my hand. He was big, and oh so hot to the touch. Smooth and so hard. Stroking him once, twice, Jack groaned and bucked his hips.

  “Miller,” he begged. I grabbed the condom and slid it on him. Jack placed his shaking hands on top of mine to guide me.

  I lifted my hips, held him in one palm and directed him into me. Slowly, slowly I slid down until he was deep within me. “Reid,” I cried out. I felt so full, so complete. He did fit. Perfectly.

  He grabbed hold of my hips, lifted me, and then drove me back down onto him. “Tell me not to stop,” he said, his voice rough with need, his skin damp from his exertions.

  My hands mindlessly went to my breasts and I pulled on my nipples, feeling my body open, get wetter for him. “Don't stop!”

  He didn't. Jack drove me to the brink of another orgasm, then slowed his movements, then took me up again. This time, he reached between us and touched me. That one brush of his thumb set me off. I came again as Jack surrendered to his own pleasure.

  * * *

  We fell asleep, our bodies entwined, sheets tangled about us. I woke twice in the night, the first time with Jack buried deep within me, his hips moving in incredibly slow motion, my orgasm building just as slowly. The second, Jack spooned me, his front to my back. He'd lifted one of my legs on top of his and his fingers were slipping into me, around and over all the crucial spots before sliding his hard length into me from behind. We didn’t need toys or kink.

  We didn't move from my bed the next day other than to go to the door to pay the pizza delivery man. Having a new kitchen was great, but there was absolutely nothing to eat in the cabinets or fridge. Since Jack's plane wasn't until after dinner, we spent the day completing only the most important tasks. Sex and more sex.

  I was insatiable. I couldn't get enough of Jack, his scent, the feel of his skin, his taste, the weight of his body pinning me beneath him. His hot mouth on mine, on other places. Having him deep within me.

  Jack drove me with a need that I recognized partially as desperation. He knew he was leaving, but didn't know what he would face on his return to Florida.

  Both of us clung to the time alone together, hiding from the world in my remodeled home.

  Eventually, the world intruded in the form of a phone call from Goldie.

  “Bring the gnome,” she said. No 'hello', not 'It's me, Goldie'.

  “Tonight?” I asked, breathless. Jack was trailing his hot mouth down my back as I leaned across the bed for my cell.

  “Yes. Zach wants it back, and I'll be seeing him in the morning.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Goose bumps rose on my skin as he kissed, then licked one dimple, then the other, at the base of my spine.

  “Don't let me keep you from your muse. Or what he's doing to you,” Goldie said with a chuckle, and then hung up.

  I rolled my eyes as Jack flipped me over and smiled down at me with that little upturned corner of his mouth, desire in his eyes. I forgot all about Goldie and George the Gnome for another hour.

  Eventually, grudgingly, and with a sad heart, I had to go to Goldilocks for work, and Jack soon after to the airport. He drove me in his rental car, both of us quiet on the way, and walked into the store. I tried to put his departure out of my mind, but it was impossible. It was painful to breathe, to take a step knowing he'd soon be gone. I'd once wished he'd fly away, get as far from me as possible. Boy, had I been wrong.

  After only a few short days, my life had changed. Drastically. I'd put Jack Reid out of my mind as best I could for ten years, only popping up occasionally to wonder where he was, what he was doing. Or to wonder, imagine 'what if' scenarios.

  What if Jack had really wanted me instead of Violet? What if he hadn't left town?

  Now I knew all the answers, to every question. And it hurt. Hurt knowing I’d had him just for one night, knowing he loved me and had showed me just how much, with every brush of his hand over my body, with every look, with every whispered endearment.

  The worst of it was knowing we had wasted ten years. Ten years of living without each oth
er. And now, I didn't know when I'd see him again. We'd said our 'I love you's', but that didn't mean he was coming back, that we were more than these past few days.

  He had to go. I knew it, grudgingly accepted it. Okay, not really resolved, but at least understood. Didn't mean I had to like it.

  Goldie smiled at both of us from her perch behind the counter. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” She waggled her eyebrows at us. I rolled my eyes at her in return, no doubt I had a just fucked flush to my cheeks. I looked around the room, three customers. Not bad for after a snowstorm.

  “Here,” I told her, placing George the Gnome on the counter, facing him out so he could survey the store. His cheeky smile now called out to me, 'Way to go!'

  I patted the ceramic garden gnome on the top of his pointy hat. “Now, I'm gnomeless.”

  A customer came up to the counter. She was in her early thirties, bundled up against the weather in heavy coat, hat, and snow boots. “Can I get this wrapped?” she asked Goldie, handing over a pocket pussy.

  “Sure thing. Something for your husband?” Goldie asked.

  Goldie was good at making small talk. She picked up on clues from all of the customers. In this case, it was the honking large diamond on the woman’s left ring finger. Even I couldn't miss that one.

  Customer smiled. “He's going on a business trip to Texas. He'll need something to relieve some of his stress while I'm not there.”

  Goldie nodded her agreement. “Good choice. A pocket pussy is a great way for a man to masturbate, and it's small enough to travel with.”

  The device looked like a flashlight with a silicone replica of a woman's downstairs at one end. A man could stick his erection in it and simulate having sex. Obviously, I hadn't tried it, but I guess it worked if they were moving off the shelves.

  “Do you have something for yourself while he's gone?”

  The customer nodded and said, “Christmas present.” She pointed to the glass case filled with high-end dildos.