W hen he heard Lily’s light footsteps on the stairs at the front of the house, Jack pulled open the front door to welcome her. He didn’t care if she figured he’d been waiting for her. He had. Impatiently. As soon as she reached the doorway he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, capturing her lips with all the hunger he’d kept at bay in the past week, all the while hoping her torment at their lack of contact was as great as his own.
“Missed me?” he growled in Lily’s ear as he lifted his lips from hers and nuzzled her neck. She smelled of jasmine and vanilla, an intriguing combination that hit his olfactory senses and zapped straight to his groin.
“Just a bit.” She smiled back.
He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. She was smiling but he could clearly see there was no pleasure in it.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Really. Just a silly spat with my dad. Nothing to worry about.”
Jack pressed his lips together in a grim line. Trust Charles Fontaine to find some insidious way to stamp his personality on their evening. Well, he’d make certain that Lily’s thoughts were as far away from her father as possible. It was a task that both challenged and excited him.
“Good. Because I’d hate anything to upset your appetite tonight.” For anything, he added silently, for he fully intended to seduce Lily into staying the night with him. Nothing would yank Fontaine’s chain harder than knowing his precious daughter was sleeping in Jack Dolan’s arms—again. This seduction had been planned with the precision of a military exercise. It had started with their day out on the boat, the tease and tantalisation of her senses, and continued with deliberately having no contact in the past week. The flowers today had been a subtle touch, the short message on the card another string to his seductive bow.
He hooked his arm around her waist and led her inside. When they were in the middle of the living room he took her hand and twirled her around, whistling a long, low, wolf whistle from pursed lips.
“You look delectable tonight, Miss Fontaine.” He smiled and pulled her to him again, swaying her body gently to the music he’d chosen for precisely this moment. Their proximity sent his blood thrumming in his veins, her scent swirling around him as they turned about the floor.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied, a breathlessness to her voice that told him he’d hit the mark with his intentions. A spark in her eyes replaced the dull look of pain she’d arrived with. Yes, everything was going to plan. His courtship was like a dance—slow, slow, quick-quick, slow—and he was most definitely in the lead.
The song on the stereo ended, slipping into the next and for a while Jack simply allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her willing body against his. As the song changed again, he led her outside onto the deck where he’d placed two chairs to face the ocean, a smaller table between them with two wineglasses and a perfectly chilled Marlborough Chardonnay in an ice bucket between them. He lifted the bottle, wiped the dewy moisture from its base, then poured them each a glass.
He handed Lily her drink and lifted his in a toast. She met his gaze as she lifted hers in response.
“To a spectacular evening,” he toasted, his voice deep and strong, imbued with promise.
Her lips parted and a tiny smile pulled the corners up slightly. She lowered her eyelids in a gentle sweep before opening them again, her blue eyes sending him a silent message of assent. “A spectacular evening,” she echoed.
“Take a seat and tell me what you’ve been up to this week,” he invited.
He’d had tabs on her all week, had heard about her visits to a couple of local Realtors and her enquiries about a couple of the empty shops in the shopping area of town. It would be interesting to hear what she had planned. Lily Fontaine had never dirtied her hands in her life, except for when she’d dirtied them on him, he remembered ruefully. The prospect of her actually setting up a business should be a joke, but he had a suspicion, from what he’d heard, that her idea had strong merit for a place like Onemata.
Her face became animated as she talked about how she’d come to her idea and how she’d been gathering information on the costs of actually setting up the business, overheads for the running, supply of stock, et cetera. Eventually the last of the shadows in her eyes disappeared. He was surprised at the detailed lengths she’d gone to in her quest for information and statistics, even going so far as to contact the local business association for information.
“It’s a big step,” Jack commented as he topped off her glass of wine again. “What made you decide to do something like this?”
“I’ve finally learned I can’t let other people dictate my life anymore. For too long I’ve just let them, been happy to let them.”
Jack watched as Lily leaned forward in her seat, staring out at the glistening ocean, at the birds working the school of fish jumping in the water a few hundred metres off shore.
“I need to grow up, Jack. I need to be in charge of my life. Even tonight, my father thought he could control me, stop me from coming to see you. You know, when I got here, all I could think about was being back in your arms, feeling safe. It’s really no different to how I was ten years ago. Him trying to rule my life, everything I said or did, and me running to you for comfort.” She gave him a wry smile, “Well, not exactly comfort, not always. But you know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed. She’d been her father’s puppet, even when it had come down to their child. The son or daughter he’d been doing his best to track down and had consistently hit one brick wall after the other. “I know what you mean. Sometimes you have to take a stand. Do what you know is right for you.” Like he was doing.
Tomorrow Charles Fontaine would hear the news of the lost contract, would hear it and weep at the loss because the insider news was that FonCom was unsustainable without it. Jack would tighten the noose so tight that Fontaine would never wriggle out of it again. Would rue the day he’d ever heard the Dolan name. And so would Lily, eventually.
He turned their conversation to more general matters, filling the time until he’d planned to serve their meal. Their entrées they would take outside, here on the deck, then he’d decided the main course would be at the cosily set coffee table in the lounge. The formal dining table was too vast, too impersonal for what he had planned. Lily would literally be eating from his hands and, he hoped, she’d return the favour for him.
When Jack brought out the Onion Mumm entrée and dipping sauce, Lily exclaimed in delight.
“Oh-hh, I haven’t tried one of these since I was in New Orleans on a photo shoot. Did you prepare it yourself?” She eagerly tore off a “petal” and dipped it in the sauce before lifting the morsel to her mouth and closing her eyes as she savoured the piquant sauce with the onion.
“I have to admit, no, I didn’t prepare it myself. Even I know when to defer to the experts.” Jack smiled and watched as she took another piece of the battered and deep-fried onion, the same expression of satisfaction crossing her face as she ate it. “There’s a spot of sauce, just here,” he said, and leaned over. With the tip of his index finger he lifted off the tiny pearl of sauce from the edge of her lip. She watched as he brought his finger to his mouth, opened his lips and licked the sauce away with the tip of his tongue.
Instantly her cheeks flushed with warmth and her eyes brightened in the way he knew so well. Blood pooled in his groin. Lily had always been a generous partner, even if initially they’d both lacked experience. Tonight was going to be worth the wait.
By the time they’d progressed indoors and he’d brought out the finger-food platter of crayfish, lemon-pepper-seasoned calamari and chilli-lime-marinated mussels together with vegetable crudités, he noticed Lily’s wineglass was empty.
“Would you like another glass of wine with dinner, or are you driving tonight?” His question was loaded. If she accepted the wine, it would be acquiescence to a lot more than just another drink.
She tilted her head up to look at him from where she lounged on the floor pillows he’d scattered around the coffee table. In the middle of slipping off her sandals, the soft folds of her dress spread around her like water. He looked forward to undoing the tie at the nape of her neck, to slowly uncovering her skin and to laving it with the attention he craved to give. He waited for her reply, every nerve in his body poised.
“I wasn’t planning on driving tonight. If that’s okay with you, that is.”
A lump settled in Jack’s throat. He swallowed to get past the restriction. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.” More than fine.
“I—um, I didn’t bring anything with me.”
“It’s okay, you won’t need anything other than yourself. I’ve got everything covered,” he promised.
Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get through with dinner. To hell with the slow and sensuous seduction he’d planned. He wanted her right now. But he was a man used to waiting. After all, hadn’t he waited ten years to wreak his revenge on Charles Fontaine? He could wait another hour or two for the pleasure of holding Lily in his arms, beneath his surging body with her long, slender legs wrapped around his waist. He almost groaned out loud. Instead he turned and went back to the kitchen and brought through a bottle of wine to the table.
Instead of sitting opposite Lily, he knelt down next to her and reached for a piece of juicy white crayfish flesh.
“Here,” he said, offering it to her. “This should be eaten alone, so you can savour just how delicate the flavour is.”
His fingers tingled as she opened her mouth, taking the delicacy with her teeth, her lips grazing against his fingertips. He watched as she slowly chewed the tender meat, a moan of pleasure escaping her mouth as the subtle taste sensations danced over her tongue.
“Oh gosh, that’s so good. I haven’t had plain boiled crayfish in forever. I forgot how the simple pleasures are often the best. Here, you try some.”
She eagerly leaned forward and scooped some of the meat from one of the half shells on the platter and held it to Jack’s lips. He hesitated a moment before taking her offering, his eyes locked on hers as he opened his mouth, sucking in her fingers with the piece of meat, stroking them with his tongue before letting her go. Her pupils flared in reaction to the intimate sensation of his tongue, her lips parted, her tongue at the edge of her teeth.
“Yeah, simple pleasures,” Jack said, his voice deep. “The best.”
Lily burned with anticipation. For each selection of food Jack offered, a coil deep inside her tightened up a notch. His closeness, the scent of him, the sheer heat that radiated from his body, sent her mind into overdrive. Was he as aroused as she at the moment? Did his entire body thrum with the rhythm of their breathing? With the tease and dance of feeding one another with the exquisite flavours, sating the olfactory senses yet stirring up a physical hunger that built and built like a bonfire of need?
She’d never found eating a meal to be such a sensory pleasure before, but tonight it was as if every sense in her body was magnified, strengthened by the seduction of her taste buds and by the promise of what lay ahead. A flutter of nerves skittered down her spine. She’d been certain in her mind she was ready to take this next step with Jack, but now as the time drew nearer, she felt as skittish as if they’d never been intimate, as if she had no idea of what type of touch drove him to distraction or the look in his eyes in the seconds before he climaxed.
She shivered as a pull of longing drew through her body and the coil of tension in the pit of her belly tightened up another notch. All of a sudden she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him. She wanted gratification, hard and fast, and she wanted to give it, too.
They’d almost completed the seafood platter, the taste sensations lingered on her tongue, but she wanted a different flavour now. She wanted him.
“Jack?” She trailed her hand up one of his strong forearms, the dusting of masculine hair tickling her fingers.
“Hmm?”
“Is there dessert?” She smiled at the surprise on his face.
“Yes. Are you ready for dessert?” His voice was cautious, testing.
“I’m ready. Very ready. But not for dessert. For you.”
Lily rose up onto her knees and straddled Jack’s hips, his long legs trapped under the table in front of him. She rocked her pelvis against the hard line of arousal she felt beneath her and bent her head to take his lips in a kiss with which she wanted to demonstrate just how much she wanted him.
His lips were slightly glossy with the juice of the marinated mussels, the tang of chilli and lime initially overwhelming his own intrinsic flavour. She deepened the kiss, sweeping her tongue into his mouth, swallowing his groan of need, pressing her heated core more firmly into his groin. She felt him shudder beneath her. With another groan, Jack pulled away from her. He shoved his hands up into her hair, holding her head still and forcing her to meet his simmering amber stare.
“Tell me you’re not going to change your mind, Lily. At this point I could just about let you go, but trust me on this, in another second I won’t be capable.”
She smiled. A soft secret smile as old as the attraction between the sexes.
“I’m not leaving you tonight, Jack. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted you or anything else. Let me show you.”
She took his lips again, felt his fingers bunch and tighten almost painfully in her hair before they cupped the back of her head, drawing her in closer as if he, also, couldn’t get enough of her. Incredibly, she felt his erection grow even harder and she rocked against its length, feeling the dampness grow at the apex of her thighs. She was so ready for him now she shook with the wanting. Already she hovered on the brink of orgasm. No other man had ever had this incendiary effect on her. She’d never loved another as she loved Jack Dolan.
A spear of shock plunged through her. Love? How had that happened so quickly? But deep inside Lily acknowledged that it hadn’t been a quick transition. The feeling in her heart had dwelled there dormant, suppressed for ten lonely years while she struggled to find what was missing in her life. And all along it had been here. At home. With Jack.
She felt his hands tugging at the ties of her halter, his fingers trembled in their haste. She took her mouth from his and straightened slightly, and lifted her hands to assist him, deftly undoing the knot of ribbons and beads. His hands dropped away as she caught up the ends of the fabric then slowly lowered them, exposing first the gentle swell of her breasts then her taut nipples, darkened and questing for his touch, before she dropped the fabric away completely. It pooled around her waist in a carmine swirl, the jewelled colour of the fabric a strong contrast to her lightly tanned skin.
Shivers of delight chased up her skin as Jack’s hands wrapped around her slender waist then skimmed upward, feathering over her rib cage before tracing a fine line under her breasts.
“Ah, it’s still there,” he said, satisfaction ringing in his voice.
“What?” she asked, her voice heavy with desire.
“Your birthmark.”
He leaned forward and his tongue traced around the heart-shaped birthmark she’d all but forgotten about. Jack teased her with tiny licks across the surface of her breast until she all but begged him to take her nipple into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth.
Despite her pleas he appeared in no hurry and Lily felt as if her skin would split with the tight demanding need that rose within her, the pressure building and building, seeking release yet not finding it.
His fingers continued their feather-fine tracery of the underside of her breasts as he paid due homage to her birthmark. Finally his tongue traced a track from the underside of her breast and up toward her engorged nipple. Again he teased, swirling his tongue around but not over the tight bead of flesh. Lily rocked her hips harder, physically begging him to take her nipple in his mouth.
When his lips closed over the tightly ruched skin, Lily nearly jolted off his lap. A spear of sharp building sensation arrowed down through her belly to her inner core. She felt the contractions begin in her womb as his tongue played across her nipple, drawing it into his mouth, releasing it and then starting all over again. His other hand slid down her body, seeking, questing beneath the gathered fabric of her skirt. His fingers traced a new feather-soft line from behind her knee and up to her buttocks where he cupped the warm globe of flesh, exposed by her G-string, in his hand. He squeezed slightly, pulling her ever more firmly against him. A shudder started from deep inside her, her nerve endings screamed for release.
His hand slid across her hip, to the hollow at the top of her thigh, his fingers slipping inside the tiny triangle of fabric now soaked with the juices from her body. Lily angled her hips slightly upward, allowing him better access to the aching nubbin, the centre of all her pent-up need. He barely touched her, once, twice, a gentle sweep of his finger, and she came apart in his arms, his name a savage cry from her throat as paroxysms of pleasure rode through her body in wave after wave.
Eventually she sagged against him, her head nestled against the curve of his neck and his shoulder. Her heart beat so fast, so loud, it almost felt as though it would leap from her chest. Slowly her breathing returned to normal, but the aftershocks of her orgasm continued to send little shocks of pleasure through her body, leaving her feeling boneless, helpless in his arms.
“You cheated,” she murmured against his throat, nipping lightly at his skin. “You made me come but took no pleasure for yourself. This time is for you.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Lily.” His voice was rough like gravel, as if each word was being ripped from his throat. “I take the utmost pleasure in watching you lose control, in feeling you fracture apart in my arms, knowing I brought you that pleasure.”
“Then you’ll understand my need to reciprocate.”
Lily pushed against his shoulders, using his solid strength for balance as she regained her somewhat shaky composure and slowly stood over him. She pushed at the dress, bunched around her waist, letting it slid down over her hips before it fell to her feet. One by one, she lifted her feet, stepping out of the pool of fabric, then she flicked it away with a gentle kick. Still standing over Jack’s prone body, she arched her back and stretched, like a cat in the sunshine. Sleek and proud and incredibly female.
“Lie down on the pillows,” she commanded from her vantage point. “It’s your turn.”