Can't Get Enough (29 page)

"All in good time, baby," he teased, brushing her hand away.
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Claire liked the way he took control, the way he seemed to know so surely what she wanted. But two could play at that game.

As Jack lifted his head from one breast and made to move to the other,
she rolled out from under him and shoved him down on the bed. Before he
could stop her, she was astride him, the swollen head of his penis
pressing against her slick lips, but not quite penetrating her. She
slid her hands along his arms until she held his wrists down on either
side of his head. He could shake her off with barely a flex of his
muscles, but they both indulged the fiction that she held him captive.

"Now I'm in charge," she threatened mockingly, gyrating suggestively
against him. Jack's eyes were navy dark as he watched her, his teeth
just showing through his slightly parted lips. Greatly daring, she
rubbed herself against him and felt the giveaway tension in his body.
Watching him closely, she tilted her hips and guided his hardness into
her. His eyes were almost closed now, but she could just see the glint
of his eyes as she paused briefly before plunging onto him, taking him
deep inside. He filled her completely and utterly, and she threw back
her head and reveled in the ride. Excitement built within her as Jack's
hands caressed her breasts more and more firmly, and then suddenly, out
of nowhere, she was throbbing around him again, gasping his name. In
the aftermath, Jack moved like lightning, flipping her back onto the
bed so that he was again on top. In charge once more, he continued the
ride, reaching a hand between their bodies and searching for her
clitoris. She cried out as he found it, squirming beneath him, sure
that she was too sensitive, too stimulated. But Jack knew better, and
in seconds she felt the excitement beginning to build again. He leaned
over her now, shifting higher so that every thrust provided the maximum
stimulation. And before she knew it she was lost, but he was with her
this time, shuddering into her, holding her close.

They broke apart at last, panting. She could feel her heart pounding,
and she closed her eyes. Had she ever felt this fulfilled, this
amazing?

A foot nudged her calf, and she opened her eyes to find Jack watching her. He smiled saucily.

"Don't even think about going to sleep," he warned, and to her astonishment she felt an answering tightness in her body.

She had a feeling it was going to be a long, hot, breathless night.

JACK WOKEbefore her, and he simply watched her, resisting the urge to
tuck an errant curl behind her ear. Her mouth was open a little, and
every now and then she screwed up her eyes and made unintelligible
noises in her sleep. She'd be mortified if she knew. He found himself
smiling, enjoying the small moment.

Then he frowned, realizing something felt different.

He rolled onto his back and blinked up at the ceiling. Maybe it was
because he'd stayed the whole night. That was probably it. Because
normally he wasn't keen on doing that. There was all that morning-after
awkwardness. But for some reason, he'd stayed last night.

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His mind tripped over the incredible evening they'd shared. He hadn't
seemed to be able to get enough of her, and she'd equaled his passion
time and time again. He smiled, remembering how they'd argued like
teenagers in the elevator just a few weeks ago. Who'd have thought they
would wind up like this?

And then he realized what was different—it wasn't just that he'd stayed
the night, it was that he wanted to stay this morning. He wasn't
thinking about getting up and finding his clothes, or concocting a
legitimate excuse for hightailing it out of there. He wanted to stay,
to talk, to have breakfast. Hopefully to make love again. Whatever.
Whatever it was people did when one of them didn't run for the hills
the next morning.

He found his heart rate picking up as Claire stirred beside him, her
eyelids flickering before she at last opened her eyes and locked gazes
with him for the first time in the light of day. And then he registered
the look in her eyes, and all his pleasant imaginings withered to
nothing. She looked panicked, shocked. Unwelcoming.

Damn.

He could feel her body stiffen next to his and he froze, unsure what to
do. A minute ago he'd been trying to decide if they'd breakfast here or
go find somewhere down by the bay. But now she looked as though she was
ready to throw a sheet out the window and try to shimmy her way down if
that was what it was going to take to escape him.

It seemed he may have miscalculated somewhat. Perhaps she needed a
little time to relax and get used to things? He tried a smile, but she
stared at him as if he were some oversize cockroach she'd found on the
sheets.

"Hi," he said, for lack of anything else.

"Hi."

She'd got more of a grip on herself, he could see. Or more accurately,
he couldn't see, because she'd disappeared behind an impenetrable mask
of politeness.

"Would you—would you like breakfast?" she asked, and he watched her
wriggle away from him to the edge of the bed, being very careful all
the while to keep the sheet clutched to her chest. So it was going to
be like this.

He fought back a bitter laugh. All these years he'd been the one to
long for a quick escape the morning after. And the one time he wanted
to stay, he was being herded toward the door. Perhaps she was worried
about what happened next? He honestly hadn't given it much thought, but
maybe she wanted to talk about it. Women, in his experience, could
never get enough talk.

"Claire—" he began to say, but she cut him off.

"I know, I understand, believe me, it's exactly what I was thinking. We
have to work together, and it's awkward, but, hey, it's got to be out
of our systems now, right?" She'd spotted a silky dressing gown on the
bedroom floor, and he watched as she stretched out one leg, clenched
her toes into the silky fabric, and dragged it toward herself, all the
while ensuring the sheet
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continued to cover all her vital areas. He was so fascinated by it all that he answered honestly.

"Well, in a word—no," he said, and she snapped her head around to stare at him.

"No?" she repeated, her eyes wide.

He fought the urge to lean forward and kiss her. She was just so…kissable.

"No. I don't honestly think I've gotten it out of my system," he
elaborated. She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head
decisively. Standing abruptly, she forsook the safety of her modesty
sheet and shrugged into the dressing gown. He was treated to a
tantalizing glimpse of curvy hip and swelling breast before she pulled
the wrap tight around herself and cinched it with a tie-belt.

He found himself facing Professional Claire, the competent,
on-the-ball, matter-of-fact woman who strode the halls of Beck and Wise
every Monday to Friday.

"Look, Jack, I'm going to be straight with you. I'm not really up for
one of your flings. I mean, I know we've sort of had one, a mini one,
anyway, but I'm not up for any more than this," she said, sounding very
brisk and businesslike.

He could feel himself getting a little annoyed at all the assumptions
she was making. Feeling at a disadvantage lying on the bed, he stood
and approached her. Her eyes dropped rather gratifyingly below his
waistline, but she looked away very quickly.

"What if I don't want a fling, mini or otherwise? What if I want more
than that?" Where had that come from? He'd even surprised himself with
that one. Surely he didn't want a…well, a
relationship
with Claire? The idea seemed very strange and alien, but it didn't stop
him from feeling deeply offended when she attempted to smother the
smile that leaped to her lips. He frowned.

"Are you laughing at me?"

She shook her head, her lips pressed together primly now. But he'd seen it.

"You did, you just laughed at me!" he accused.

Claire at last looked him in the eye, and he saw that any trace of laughter was gone from her face now.

"Jack. Come on, listen to yourself. This is you, consummate playboy,
and me, uptight chick from the office. We have nothing in common except
for some physical…curiosity, which we fully explored last night."

Jack opened his mouth to tell her that she was wrong, then shut it
again, the words unspoken. He didn't know what to say. Worse, he didn't
know what to do except to get dressed and go. He didn't even know what
his own feelings were, so how could he question hers when she was
basically drawing a line under what had happened between them?

"I guess I should go, then," he suggested dully.

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She nodded, stooping to detangle the sheets.

"That's probably the most sensible thing."

Jack padded into the living room, blinking at the sight of his clothes
strewn all over the floor. There was only one button intact on his
shirt—she'd ripped the rest off—and he found his jeans rucked up in the
corner near the television. He stood staring at them for a moment,
almost driven to turn around and try to talk to her, sort things out.
Because it felt wrong to end things this way. He didn't know what else
there was to explore, but he felt as though this was incomplete, wrong.
But then he remembered the look that had crept into her eyes the moment
she'd seen him this morning. That was not the look of a woman who
wanted to "explore" things.

CLAIRE FELTas though she was holding her breath as she waited for Jack
to finish dressing in the living room. She scooted over to her chest of
drawers and grabbed a pair of panties, pulling them on hastily beneath
her robe, feeling somehow safer with a bit of satin and cotton between
her and Jack's all-knowing gaze. After all, it was the lack of panties
that had got her into this situation in the first place. She could hear
the clink of his belt buckle, and she guessed he was probably mostly
decent by now. God, she wanted him gone. She needed him gone before she
broke down and begged him to stay. Even for just a few more hours.
Or—her heart leaped—another night. Whatever he was willing to give her.
Which was why he had to go, of course. She relived the bolt of fear
that had ripped through her when she opened her eyes and found him
staring at her. She knew from past relationships that she sometimes
talked in her sleep, and she had a sudden moment of panic as she
imagined what she might have said. What if she'd said something about
him, about her feelings for him?

Oh, anything but that!

Jack would run a mile if she so much as hinted at feeling anything
deeper than lust for him. She was so sure of it, so sure that he would
reject her, that she quivered at the very thought of it. He had the
power to destroy her, she knew, and she didn't have the strength to
face him down.

"Claire."

She turned to find him standing in her bedroom door, his shirt held
shut with just one dangling button. She blushed, remembering that she'd
popped the buttons last night, tearing his clothes off him.

"I'm going now."

She nodded, staring at his back for a moment as he turned toward the
front door. She forced herself to follow him out, to smile in a
friendly-but-not-too-friendly way at him as he opened the exterior door
and then turned to look at her one last time.

"Claire, I really…Look, maybe this is a bad time…"

He seemed lost for words, his face uncertain. For the first time, she
doubted her rock-solid instincts where he was concerned. Was it
possible that he…?

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He seemed to make a decision, his shoulders squaring and his gaze
becoming clearer as he looked down at her. She bit her tongue,
resisting the urge to throw herself at his feet. He was probably just
feeling guilty, trying to find a way to say goodbye nicely.

"I'm going to call you tonight, okay? When you've had time to settle down a little. Get some sleep, maybe."

The ghost of a smile came from him. She'd been right—he felt sorry for her!

"If you want to, that's fine, Jack. But it's not necessary, really,"
she told him coolly. She felt proud of that coolness. If she could keep
this up, she might be able to salvage a little bit of dignity. Jack
stared at her for a moment, and then he turned on his heel and was
gone. She stared at the closed door for a long time, telling herself
she was relieved.

And she was. She was very relieved that Jack hadn't guessed the full
extent of her feelings. That would have been the ultimate humiliation,
of course. Here he was, throwing lonely Claire a bone, and she'd fallen
head over heels in love with him.

She snorted out loud at her own stupidity. Of all the men on the
planet, she had to pick Jack Brook to fall in love with. Hell, she'd
probably been in love with him subconsciously for years. All her
posturing about his dating and his demeanor, all her contempt for him—a
paper-thin veil to hide the truth from herself. She'd fallen in love
with Jack. She adored him. She thought he was witty, kind, intelligent,
funny. She wanted to make love to him until it was medically advisable
to take a break. Thank God he'd gone.

Feeling strangely empty, she padded into her bathroom and shed her
robe. The sight of her shower brought back a rush of hot, sticky
memories from last night, and she found herself overwhelmed by emotion
as she stepped under the stream of hot water.

She wanted…she just
wanted.
She felt as though she'd spent her lifetime
just wanting
a whole bunch of things that were never going to come her way. And she
was sick of it, worn out from it, over it. Slowly she slid down the
tiled wall until she was huddled on the shower base, the water
pummeling her head from on high.

She loved
Jack, and there was no way he was ever going to love her back. She'd
invested her most precious asset in a man who was too scared to let
love into his life. She'd watched him avoid relationships with so many
women over the past two years. He'd said it himself when they were
trapped in the elevator—he made sure that women always knew the score
where he was concerned. No strings, no hassles. She suspected a lot of
his commitment phobia came from what had happened with his brother,
from not being able to deal with his loss. But that didn't make much
difference at the end of the day. Jack was the one who had to decide to
take the risk of loving someone—and it sure as hell wouldn't be her.
They'd fought like cat and dog most of the time they'd known each
other, and, even if they'd discovered an intense sexual chemistry more
recently, she wasn't the kind of woman he'd change his life for.
Katherine, now she was the kind of woman men changed their lives for.
And even she hadn't lured Jack over from the dark side.