If I Loved You (Harper Falls Book 1) (24 page)

Rose wiggled her phone at the stunned man.
She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Help get her off? That was
the second time today someone had clumsily propositioned her. Was
she wearing a sign that read
Open For
Business
?

Jack was waiting for her, opening the door
almost before her car came to a stop.

“Are you alright?” He pulled her into his
arms. “Did that asshole touch you?

“I’m fine. But what’s going on? Are you
expecting some kind of an attack?”

“Come inside and I’ll tell you all about
it.”

Rose waved at Pam as they passed. Everything
looked normal in here. Whatever was going on, no one seemed to be
terribly concerned. But before she could get an explanation, Jack
had her in his office and pushed up against the closed door. His
kiss, hard and demanding, drove all questions from her mind. The
world could be ending and she wouldn’t care. All she needed was
more of this, more of Jack. His tongue sought out hers, running
slowly along the roof of her mouth before finding hers again,
twining together in a sensuous game tag. Jack’s teeth gently bit
her lower lip then sucked it into his mouth.

“I’ve missed you.” He laid a trail of hot
kisses along her jaw until he found that place, just under her ear,
that drove her crazy. Her knees would have to buckled, but Jack
wouldn’t let her fall. His strong arms lifted her, carrying her to
his desk.

"Honestly, Jack?” Rose moaned the words.
“The desk? The rich businessman? Isn’t it a bit of a cliché?”

Pushing everything out of the way, Jack
lowered her until her back was flat on the cool, smooth surface.
“You know why it’s a cliché, Rose?”

“Why?” Her breath caught when Jack ripped
her shirt open, buttons scattering in every direction. Her bra was
unfastened and removed as if by magic.

“It’s a cliché because works so damn
well.”

He pulled off her jeans and panties in one
quick motion; her shoes flying across the room. “Beautiful” he
breathed. His hand drifted across the slope of her stomach,
settling between her legs. “So soft, so wet.”

“Jack,” she moaned. His fingers were driving
her higher, finding the perfect balance of pressure, knowing just
when to advance and when to pull back. “Inside me, I need you
now.”

Rose gripped the edge of the desk with
desperate fingers. She watched, panting, as Jack pulled his shirt
over his head, tossing it in no particular direction. He made quick
work of the rest of his clothes until he was as naked as she,
standing between her open thighs, erect, ready.

“Tell me again, Rose.” His voice was a low
growl. “Tell me what you want.”

She reached out, grasping his erection.
“You, I need you.”

“Then take me.”

His entrance was a long, slow, fluid
movement. Their eyes locked, their breathing matched. Finally, when
he’d filled her, he kissed her again, urgent but tender. Rose
reached up to grip his waist, and then lower until her hands cupped
the firm cheeks of his butt. She pulled him to her, willing him to
increase his speed, silently begging him to make her soar until she
could crash into oblivion.

“Come with me, Rose,” Jack commanded. “I can
feel how close you are, come with me. Now!”

His shouted his last word in release, a
release so strong it triggered her orgasm. There seemed to be no
end to the pleasure, wave after wave washed over her in a heated
rush. And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, Jack’s
mouth latched on to that spot again, the one right below her ear,
and she sailed just a little bit farther.

Jack smoothed his hand down Rose’s arm and
laced his fingers with hers, pulling back just enough to see her
face. Ah, there it was. That look he was beginning to crave, the
one that said she had been thoroughly satisfied, and whether she
knew it or not, thoroughly loved.

Jack lifted her into his arms and carried
her into the bathroom.

“I can walk, Jack.” Maybe. Given time. When
he sat her on the marble counter, Rose gave in and relaxed. Why
argue? He was responsible for her being in this condition, let him
take care of it. She wondered quite vaguely if she should be
embarrassed when he gently washed between her legs with a warm
cloth. But it felt
so
wonderful that
there was no room for anything but the soothing pleasure. Thank
you, she whispered, which earned her a smile and a light kiss.

“We can nap if you’d like.” Jack carried her
back into his office. She was so relaxed he thought she might have
already fallen asleep. The idea of cuddling on his couch with her
for a while was pretty appealing.

“I’m not sleepy,” Rose said languorously.
“Just very, very mellow. I didn’t know sex could do that. Does that
happen all the time, Jack?”

“No, sweetheart, not all the time.” Only
with you.

ROSE COULDN'T SLEEP.

It was three in the morning; she’d had a
busy day and the man in bed next to her had given her enough
orgasms to put any woman into a blissfully comatose state. But
instead, she was staring at the slit of light that was peeking
through the closed curtains of her bedroom window. For the last
fifteen minutes she’d waffled between getting up and adjusting the
material, convinced that the little shard of light was what was
keeping her awake. Or she could just turn over and forget it was
there. Then there was the possibility that she was an idiot
obsessing over tiny bit of moonlight. So she finally gave up. Sleep
wasn’t coming.

Careful not to wake Jack, Rose slipped out
of bed. With a quick look at his sleeping form, she started to
tiptoe out of the room. Naked. Right, she didn’t sleep in the nude.
But after she and Jack had officially had sex in her bed for the
first time, and the second and the third, there hadn't seemed much
point in putting on her usual nightgown. After all, Jack had
reasoned with her, in a few hours she would be naked again, she
might as well save herself the effort. Of course, he’d been right.
Grinning with the sexy memory, Rose grabbed her robe and headed to
her music room.

Edgar, asleep on the doggy bed that Jack had
brought for him raised his head at the sound of feet on the stairs.
The slap of his tail signaled his approval of the intruder. He knew
Rose, liked the way she smelled. He liked the sound of her voice,
and the way she somehow knew his favorite spot to be scratched. He
loved Jack with unwavering doggy devotion; Jack was his number one.
But Rose was a close second. Jumping from his bed, Edgar rushed to
greet her with wiggling enthusiasm.

“Hello.” Rose bent down and scratched
Edgar’s muzzle, smiling at his whine of approval. “Do you need to
go out, baby? Come on.”

She waited while Edgar sniffed every inch of
her back yard, the same back yard he’d explored when he and Jack
had first arrived. But Rose didn’t mind waiting. She sat on the
steps and let her mind wander back to last evening.

After they'd dressed, Jack had invited her
to his place for dinner. Rose hesitated. She was still feeling a
bit shaky. She didn’t know what had happened between them, but it
had been more than just sex. Something had shifted; it was subtle
but unsettling. Spending the rest of the evening with Jack sounded
right, natural. So maybe it would be better if she went home and
gave herself some room to think. About what? She had no idea.

“I’d rather go to my place, Jack.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go pick up Edgar and then
stop for a pizza. I shouldn’t be more than an hour behind you. Then
over dinner I can tell you about all the excitement we had here
this morning.”

Right, she'd completely forgotten the guard
at the gate. At some point she would have remembered and then it
would have driven her crazy until she ended up calling Jack and
getting the whole story. As Rose drove home, she reasoned that
satisfying her curiosity was more important than being alone with
her thoughts. Besides, those thoughts could be brutal when they
wanted to be. Let them keep to themselves for a while. An evening
of pizza, Jack and Edgar was much more appealing.

Jack arrived, dog and pizza in tow, and
after they'd settled down at her dining room table he gave her the
scoop. It turned out the security problem was pretty hysterical, at
least from an outside perspective. That morning, without warning,
women started arriving, lots of them. They wanted to meet the
almost naked men from the video Jack had taken. The thing had been
posted online almost a week ago and he and Drew had forgotten all
about it. It never occurred to them that there would be a delayed
mass pilgrimage, and while the women couldn’t get into any of the
buildings, they were causing a traffic jam in the parking lot.
There had never been any reason to lock the gates during business
hours—until now.

But before the gates could be closed they
had to get the women out. Jack had taken pity on Drew and braved
the frenzied throng.

Rose had called him on that description.
Frenzied
?
Really
?

But Jack stuck by his words. Over two dozen
women ready to charge the first naked man they laid eyes on?
Frenzied seemed kind.

Rose conceded the point. Good thing he
hadn't been naked. He hadn't, had he? Rose teased.

Jack assured her he'd had all of his clothes
on.

It took him twenty minutes to make them
understand that, as a rule, they didn’t run around in their
underwear and that none of the men in the video were even on site
anymore. He almost had them convinced when one of them called out
for him to take his clothes off. It didn’t take long for that to
become a popular idea, and Jack was soon running for cover. He
ended up amplifying the outside speakers to inform the women that
if they didn’t leave the premises now, and in an orderly fashion,
he would be forced to call the police. That seemed to do the trick.
After they had all cleared out, Jack posted men around the
perimeter in case any of the women tried coming back. That was
idiot boy had stopped her at the gate.

It was a good story, Rose thought. But, to
be honest, a little embarrassing for the female population. A good
man might be hard to find, but come on ladies. Have some pride.
Driving for hours on the off chance a guy you saw online was going
to fall into your arms? Not cool.

The feel of a wet nose on her hand pulled
her attention back to the present and a happy dog with an empty
bladder. Deciding she could use the company she invited him to join
her down in her music room. Edgar only hesitated for a moment at
the top of the unfamiliar stairs. He sniffed to get his bearings,
gave Rose his best
ladies first
grin, and then trotted easily down behind her. Rose went into the
nearby bathroom and filled a plastic bowl with water.

“There you are, Edgar.” She set the bowl
down away from anything that the dog could harm with his
enthusiastic drinking style. “Make yourself at home. All I ask is
that you don’t pee on any of my instruments. Licking is allowed,
within reason. And you can sniff to your heart’s content.”

Normally Rose would have picked up a guitar.
It had always been her go to instrument. Her mind became more fluid
when she strummed the strings. But tonight she gravitated to the
keyboard on the far wall. She was a more than competent piano
player. She used the electronic instrument mainly to provide a
different sound when she was composing. Sometimes it helped to
shake things up.

Rose ran her fingers up and down the keys
until they were warmed up and nimble. Then she just let them
wander. There wasn’t any real tune, not to start with. Just a
series of discordant notes played over and over again. The
repetition settled her mind, cleared it of random thoughts. And as
sometimes happened, that was when the melody came. Her hands took
over and played what her mind couldn’t conceive. When the notes
started making sense Rose reached over and hit the record button on
the console. She’d done the same thing so many times she wasn’t
even aware of doing it. Some part of her knew when it was time to
preserve her ramblings. Later she would refine and polish, but
right now she just needed to get the genesis of the song on
tape.

That was how Jack found them. Rose, eyes
closed, playing an achingly haunting melody, and Edgar, head
resting on the bench beside her, a look of pure adoration on his
face. Jack knew how he felt.

He had woken alone, his hand reaching for
her warm body but finding nothing but empty bed and cold sheets. He
stretched to his full length, which meant his feet were hanging off
the bed by a good four inches. Rose might not have needed a bigger
bed before, but she did now. He just had to figure out a way to
convince her. He couldn’t just have a new bed delivered. She
wouldn’t go for that. Jack bounced up and down, testing. If he
broke it, it would be his responsibility to replace it. He’d think
on it for a while. The solution would come to him. In the meantime,
they would stay at his place.

Rose wasn’t in the bathroom. Jack splashed
some water on his face. Finding some mouthwash in the cupboard, he
took a swig then spit the liquid into the sink. It was time to let
Edgar out. He pulled on his jeans and headed down. But there was no
dog and no woman. They weren’t in the backyard. While looking in
the kitchen, Jack poured himself a glass of orange juice then drank
it in three gulps. He was about to check to see if Rose’s car was
in the garage when he heard the music. It was faint at first but
grew louder as he walked towards the slightly ajar door. Music
meant Rose. He felt his stomach as he started down the stairs. It
had been crazy to worry, did he really think she was going to
disappear in the middle of the night taking Edgar with her? Of
course not. But he felt better knowing she was safe—and near.