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Authors: Leanne Banks

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BOOK: Trouble in High Heels
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“Yeah,” he said, his heart turning an odd flip as he pushed down the sheet. “A little bit.”

“Can I be on top this time?”

He hesitated, feeling himself grow harder. “Top?”

“Yeah. I’ve never done that-”

If Lori wanted to be adventurous, then he definitely wanted to accommodate her. He immediately rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. The view was divine. Her hair shimmered over her shoulders, and her breasts swayed inches from his mouth.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said.

Leaning forward, she braced her hands on his shoulders and positioned herself over him, pausing a few beats. Jackson held his breath and reined in the urge to plunge her down over him.

Mounting him, she enveloped his shaft, millimeter by wet, silky millimeter. When she had finally taken all of him, she took a little breath and whispered, “Wow.”

He gave a rough chuckle. “Yeah. Wow.”

She leaned down and took his mouth in a French kiss at the same time she undulated with him inside her. “I think I could like this,” she said, her breasts pressed against his chest.

He slid his hands over her derriere and groaned. “That makes two of us.”

The following morning, Lori awakened to the sensation of Jackson ’s breath tickling the back of her neck. His chest curved protectively against her back. His arm rested over her waist, and she felt as if she were in a delicious, sexy cocoon. Inhaling deeply, she caught a hint of his masculine scent.

She swallowed a moan of satisfaction. This felt delicious. She could grow to like this. After marathon lovemaking, they’d fed each other a midnight snack of cheeseburgers and chocolate cake. Afterward, they’d taken a shower together and crashed.

She heard a muted humming sound from somewhere in the room and wondered what it was. She carefully moved her head to glance at the bedside table to see if anything on top of it was off balance, but she didn’t see anything. The sound stopped for a few seconds and she relaxed.

It started again and she frowned. What was it? Slowly lifting Jackson ’s hand from her waist, she wiggled away, not wanting to awaken him.

“Are you always this squirmy in the morning?” he asked and pulled her back against him.

She couldn’t help smiling at his question. “Good morning to you, too. No. I’m not usually this squirmy in the morning, but there’s some kind of humming noise. I don’t know where it is, and it’s driving me crazy.” She paused and was very quiet. “Do you hear it?”

“Cell phone,” he said. “It must be yours. I turned mine off.”

“Oh,” she said, not wanting anything or anyone to intrude on the short time they had together.

“You want to check it?”

“Not really,” she said, turning toward him and burying her face in his throat.

“What are you afraid of, Lori Jean?” he asked, sliding his hand down her back. “I can tell something’s wrong. Your body is tense.”

“I’m not really afraid,” she said and closed her eyes. “I just don’t want to answer any questions about-” She took a breath. “About us.”

He tilted her chin upward. “Are you wishing you’d married the duke?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “I just don’t want to deal with other people and their opinions right now.”

“Tell them to stuff it.”

“My sisters wouldn’t like that. And that’s probably not the best approach with the press.” She sighed against his throat. “The last two days have been so wonderful. Do we have to tell other people yet? Can we wait a little bit until we figure out how to announce it?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said, sliding his fingers through her hair. “If you don’t want a lot of attention, you’ll probably need to go back to the ranch.”

“That’s fine with me. Will you go, too?” she asked, searching his face.

“Yes, but I’ll need to resign from the firm soon and get started on the real-estate development I’m putting together.”

“That’s what you want to do with your husband money?” she said.

One side of his lips lifted in a dry smile. “Husband money,” he said and shrugged. “I guess that’s as good a description as any. But yes, I’m going to use the husband money to launch a midrange neighborhood development outside of Dallas, with pools, a park, shopping facilities, hopefully a school, and whatever else will draw in buyers.”

“Did I read somewhere that real estate is in bad shape now?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, you did. But this would be for entry-level or second-time buyers. That’s the group who wants a chance at the American dream. I have contacts with mortgage companies and construction outfits. With this combination, I think I can give these people a chance at getting a shot at owning their own homes.”

He was so fervent, so positive. She admired his confidence and decisiveness and wished she had a fraction of it. “You sound like you have it all planned out.”

“A lot of it,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about this for years. I bought the property, and I’ve just been waiting for the opportunity to move ahead.” He met her gaze and gave a wry laugh. “I never dreamed I’d get the chance by marrying the hottest girl in Texas.”

Her stomach twisted and tumbled. It gave her a thrill to think that she could help make Jackson ’s dream come true. He was so strong, so independent that she couldn’t imagine him ever really needing her. “You would have found a different way to get your funding. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“You have a lot of confidence in me,” he said, cupping her jaw with his hand.

“You’ve earned it,” she said and wondered if or when he would ever have the same confidence in her. If or when she would have the same confidence in herself.

Chapter Eighteen

“Almost every woman regrets getting married. Give it a little time. Hopefully you’ll get over it.”

– SUNNY COLLINS

 

G
eoffrey read half of Huckleberry Finn; then Maria kicked him out of her room so she could sleep. Since he couldn’t sleep, he spent most of the night at the piano. The next morning, Maria woke up as her snappy kick-ass self and insisted on performing her regular duties despite Geoffrey’s protests.

After dinner, Geoffrey sulked for a bit, but since Maria just ignored him, he gave up on that and returned to the piano. Feeling the keys beneath his fingers and the vibration of sound throughout his body usually calmed him. But not tonight. He was so incredibly torn.

He wanted Maria with every cell in his being. How could he possibly marry Lori? His stepmother had called again today and left several threatening messages. What a bloody mess.

Raking his hand through his hair, he sighed and began to play the piece Maria had inspired. He played everything he knew of it so far but felt as if there was another line. The sensation was like having a word on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite summon.

The door creaked open behind him, interrupting him. He knew before turning who it was. Maria. He began to play a different song, one someone else had written. One to which he knew the blasted ending, which was more than he could say for his own composition.

“Why did you stop playing my song?” she asked, sliding beside him on the piano bench.

“You were listening?” he asked, glancing at her, feeling his stomach dip, his chest tighten, and something else grow hard. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she shot him a sideways glance. “That was because you were pouting.”

“Because you’re doing too much today. You should have rested more.”

“It’s my body,” she said. “I’m the best judge of that. So why did you stop playing my song?”

He decided not to look at her. The woman made him a mess. “I’m stuck. I don’t know what the ending is.”

“Ah,” she said.

“I know there’s something else, something more-” He frowned in concentration. “But I just can’t hear it. Yet.”

“Maybe I can help,” she offered.

“I thought you said you didn’t know much about music,” he said.

“I don’t play a musical instrument, but I know what I like.”

He nodded. “True, but how can that help?”

“There are other ways I could help,” she said.

“How?” he asked, still not wanting to look at her. She was too distracting. He wanted her too much. It was bad enough that her thigh was against his and he could almost feel the brush of her breast against his arm. She was one gigantic tease. From his peripheral vision, he saw her stand and straddle the piano bench so that she was facing him.

“Maybe I could inspire you?” she said and slid one of her hands over his thigh.

Geoffrey immediately felt his mental and emotional circuits crackle. His erection grew and his heart stopped. She lifted her head and rubbed her wicked mouth over his cheek, a caress that somehow managed to combine affection and seduction.

He couldn’t move a muscle, at least voluntarily.

“You’re not saying anything. You don’t like-”

Panic raced through him. Please, don’t stop. “I do like very much,” he managed through his tight throat.

She lifted her hand to his jaw and swiveled his head so that he was forced to look at her. Her lips were curved upward in a tempting smile, her eyes lit with promises he prayed she would keep. “Tell me what you like about me.”

“Everything,” he blurted out. “Every bloody thing.”

Her smile grew, and she lifted her mouth to his, nuzzling his lips. “I want a list,” she said. “Give me a list.”

He squeezed in a breath of air. “I like your hair,” he said. “It’s long and wavy, but soft.” He lifted his hand to touch, but she pushed his hand aside.

“Not until you finish the list,” she said playfully.

He wondered what kind of game she was playing but would do anything to keep her hand on his thigh or anywhere else, so he went along with her. “I like your eyes. They’re sexy.”

She squeezed his thigh and moved closer, brushing her breasts against his arm. Geoffrey was immediately consumed with thoughts of her breasts, touching them, caressing and kissing her nipples.

“Go on,” she said.

Fortitude, my man. Fortitude. “I like the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re displeased about something.”

She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “I do?”

“Yes, you do, and you look down your nose at people when you get impatient with them.”

“I do not,” she said and wrinkled her nose. Realizing what she’d done, she wrinkled it again and removed her hand from Geoffrey’s thigh. He almost died. “Okay, maybe once in a while. What else?”

He cleared his throat. “Could you put your hand back on me?”

She met his gaze for a moment, then a realization crossed her face and she gave a wicked smile. “Does it help with the list?”

He nodded. She returned her hand to his thigh, this time higher, and he sighed in a combination of agony and expectation.

“More,” she said and rubbed her breasts against his arm.

He could say the same thing. More. Please. Now. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I love your mouth. It gives away your emotions. The way you talk, the way you smile. The way you laugh.” He sighed. “The way you kiss, although I don’t have nearly enough experience.”

A beat of silence followed, and he felt her lips on his jaw, moving down to his neck. Her tongue darted over his skin, scoring him with her heat, then he felt her open mouth on his neck and he shuddered with pleasure. She squeezed his thigh and he turned to take her mouth, but she backed away, shaking her head.

“The list,” she whispered, but he saw a hint of arousal in her eyes that gave him hope.

“I don’t like how you got your scar,” he said. “But I like what it says about you. You’re strong. You’re a survivor.”

Her gaze turned solemn. “For a stuffy, self-centered Englishman, you see a lot.”

Affronted, he sputtered. “Stuffy? Self-centered? I am neither stuffy nor self-”

“I know. Just wanted to see your reaction,” she said and smiled again. “Anything else you like about me?”

Dammit, she was pushing him to the edge. “Obviously I like your body. You could make every clock in England stop. I like everything I’ve seen, but I haven’t seen everything. I want to see more,” he said and decided to hell with it. “I want to feel more. Do more.”

“Me first,” she said and slid her hand between his legs to his erection.

It took several seconds for him to respond. “Okay,” he said. “Ladies first.”

“Lady,” she said, squeezing him gently. “Lady.”

“Lady,” he agreed, and one second later, she took his mouth in hers in a searing French kiss.

Geoffrey nearly came right then, but she pulled back. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said.

“Yes,” he managed in a gruff voice. His clothes felt tight, his skin even tighter. “You’re wearing too many clothes, too.”

She opened her mouth to protest.

He shook his head. “Fair is fair.”

Meeting his gaze for a long moment, she sighed, then unbuttoned her blouse and stripped it off. Her bra barely concealed her full breasts, her nipples just barely peeking above the white lace.

“Oh, my-”

“If you’re going to be that distracted, should I put my shirt back on?”

“No, no, no, no…”

“Okay,” she said and kissed him again, this time stripping off his shirt and rubbing her palms over his naked skin. Somehow he’d ended up more bare than her. How had that happened?

Her hands flowed down to his waist, where she unfastened his slacks with little fumbling. He didn’t want to think about what that meant regarding her experience. How many men before him? He cut off the thought. He didn’t want to go there. What was important was this moment. This woman.

Seconds later, she plunged her hands into his crotch, touching his bare erection. He forced himself not to growl, not to…

“What are you doing?” he murmured. “What do you-”

“I’m going to kiss my way down your chest,” she said, lowering her wicked, wonderful mouth more and more. She pushed his jeans down farther, exposing him to her gaze. And mouth.

Geoffrey stifled a dozen oaths as her breath brushed over him intimately. “Oh. God.”

Meeting his gaze, she lowered her head and took him into her mouth.

“Oh. My-”

Geoffrey was in ecstasy. The sensation of her tongue on him, the visual of her hair on his crotch, her mouth devouring the most sensitive part of him.

“Do you like it?” she asked, then slid her tongue over him. “Does it feel good?”

He was one millisecond away from losing it, and she stopped. She smiled at him with a sultry gaze. “Your turn.”

Geoffrey acted purely on instinct. He lifted Maria on top of the piano and pulled off her bra. Her breasts spilled free-her nipples were large, dusky, and taut. He cupped her breasts and took a nipple into his mouth. She moaned.

Geoffrey fumbled with her jeans but succeeded in unfastening them. She graciously lifted her gorgeous hips so he could lower the denim to her thighs, then her ankles.

He caught sight of her swollen femininity. Her obvious arousal nearly did him in. “You’re so gorgeous,” he said, sliding his fingers between her thighs to where she was wet and velvety.

“That feels good,” she said, wriggling beneath his touch.

He had to have her every way. Every way. Lowering his head, he spread her legs with his hands and took her with his mouth. She gasped and sighed and gasped.

The sound was like music to his ears. The taste of her drove him crazy. She grew more swollen with each stroke of his tongue. Her reaction was beyond gratifying. “Take me,” she whispered. “Take me.”

Sitting down on the bench, he brought her onto his lap. She struggled with her jeans, kicking them off, then rose again and plunged downward on him.

“Oh. My,” he said.

“God,” she said, undulating on him.

“I can’t last long,” he said.

“Me, either,” she said.

And Geoffrey felt as if he’d died and gone to heaven. Or hell. Or both. He didn’t care which. He just wanted to go again.

After they made love again, this time on a blanket on the floor, Geoffrey held Maria in his arms. She was warm, sensual, and lush. “You are the most amazing woman in the world.”

“That’s your woodie talking,” she said, but she smiled.

“It is not,” he said. “I don’t even have a woodie at the moment,” he told her, then chuckled to himself. “You took very good care of that.” He slid his finger over the dark tendril of hair hiding one of her eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a secret goddess?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “If I were a goddess, would I shovel horse manure?”

“I don’t know. Would you?”

Her smile faded, but joy glinted in her dark eyes. “Perhaps.”

“If you were a goddess, what would your life be like?”

She closed her eyes and her black eyelashes curled against her eyelids. “I would have my own house and my own horses. I would have a dog or two. I would have beautiful flowers in every room, and music. All of the furniture would feel soft against my skin. I would eat fruit and fajitas and pie. I would have enough money to hire helpers and pay them well. I would give money to Virginia so she wouldn’t struggle. It would be beautiful.”

“Would you have a husband?”

Her face fell again, and he felt some of the joy slip from her. “I don’t know,” she said and opened her eyes. “He would have to be a very gentle man. I would have to be sure that he would never ever hurt me.”

A sharp longing stabbed him deep inside. More than anything, Geoffrey wanted to be that man for Maria. He opened his mouth to tell her, but the sound of Lori’s Pomeranian yapping downstairs interrupted him. He glanced up. “What the devil-” He frowned. “What time is it anyway?”

“Around eleven, I think. We should go to bed,” she said and shifted away from him. It took everything he had not to pull her back into his arms as she dressed.

Hastily pulling on his briefs and jeans, he darted to the window and spotted Jackson ’s SUV in front of the house. His gut sank. “They’re back,” he muttered. “Lori and Jackson are back.”

Maria joined him at the window. “Lori,” she said, her voice dead.

His heart hammering, he turned to Maria. “I want to be with you more than anything,” he said. “But my family’s finances are in dire straits. They’re counting on me to get us out of the bloody mess. It’s not fair. It’s not right. But it is my duty. I must marry her if she’ll have me.”

“Tough being a duke, isn’t it?” she said, with a sad smile. “She’s pretty and rich, no scars-”

“Stop.” Geoffrey pulled her against him. “She’s not you,” he said. “And you are who I want. You are who I wanted before I even knew you existed.”

He saw the flicker of emotion and passion in her eyes before she closed them for a second. “But I don’t have what you need. You would suffer if you didn’t take care of your family. You must marry Lori.” She lifted on tiptoe to press her lips against his. “I won’t forget you,” she whispered. “I’ve never felt so treasured. You’ve been gentle with me.”

“You deserve so much more,” he said, feeling helpless. “You deserve-”

“Shhh,” she said. “We have this to remember, and I will always have your song. Good night, Geoffrey,” she said and left him staring after her. He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.

Lori awakened the next morning in her bed at Virginia ’s ranch house with Kenny at her feet. It could have been three days ago or two weeks ago. She closed her eyes and opened them again. Had she really gotten married?

Her mind flashed back to the awful wedding ceremony and the two mind-blowing nights she’d shared with Jackson. She couldn’t have dreamed all that. She sat up in bed and thought about how they’d parted last night. He’d parked her duffel bag inside her bedroom and she’d held her breath, wondering if he would stay, wondering if he would ask her to join him. Instead, he’d muttered, “Good night.”

BOOK: Trouble in High Heels
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