JACK SAT ON A HARD wooden bench inside one of the larger courtrooms in the New York City courthouse, listening intently to Donnie Morissey’s testimony and wishing he would wrap it up soon, in spite of the fact that every new word out of the guy’s mouth put some new scumbag crook behind bars. For two days, Donnie had been sitting before the Honorable Judge Genevieve Dupont and a jury of his peers, spilling his guts—and the guts of more than a few members of one of the city’s most notorious crime families, figuratively speaking. What Donnie was telling the court was going to put away a good number of people and leave them to rot behind bars for a good long time, which was just about the only activity Jack could think of that suited them. Donnie was doing good. In more ways than one.
So why wasn’t Jack happier? he asked himself. His job was about to get a little easier, thanks to Donnie, and since his job had always been his first priority, that ought to make him euphoric. Oh, sure, there’d always be wiseguys lining up to fill the holes these bastards left behind. But Jack and his colleagues were already on top of it. And whenever bad guys got caught and sent up the river, it was always an occasion for excessive celebration.
Funny, though, Jack didn’t feel much like celebrating. Even funnier, he was barely listening to Donnie at this point. Because Jack had his mind on infinitely more important matters than the public well-being. He was thinking more along the lines of personal well-being. And how his being hadn’t felt too well for the past month.
A month, he reflected again. That was how long it had been since he’d seen Natalie. Although the trial had started within days of his and Donnie’s return to the city, it had been dragged out twice as long as they had anticipated. The defense had thrown up one lame roadblock after another to stall the opening arguments, until finally they’d run out of excuses. And even after things had finally gotten under way, they’d still dragged their feet. Even the prosecution had taken longer than they’d intended due to some last minute developments. But at this point, Jack honestly didn’t care about any of that anymore. All he cared about was that he hadn’t seen Natalie for a month. And it was really starting to piss him off.
Starting to? he berated himself. Hell, he’d been feeling irritable since his feet hit the tarmac at LaGuardia. No, even before that. Since he’d left Natalie’s classroom that last afternoon he’d been in town without telling her what he’d gone there to tell her. That he was returning to New York to take Donnie back for the trial. That he didn’t know how long it would take or when he’d be back. That he’d call her and stay in touch and let her know how things were going. That they could talk later, when they had more time and his head was clear of all things job-related. And then, finally, goodbye.
He was such a jerk.
None of those things had happened. Not one damned one. He hadn’t been able to tell her he was going that day, had ended up leaving her that letter instead. He still hated himself for that. And he hadn’t called her since coming back to New York. He’d been too chicken. Try as he might to work out something acceptable in his head to say to her, he hadn’t had a clue. What did you tell a woman you’d spent a week making love to, and a month caring about, when you hadn’t even been able to work up the nerve to tell her goodbye? Natalie probably hated him even more than he hated himself. If he was pissed off about not seeing her, he had only himself to blame.
“‘Yo, Jack,” a voice whispered beside him.
He looked up to find that Donnie had just sidled in next to him on the bench, obviously finished saying his piece.
“How’d I do?” Donnie asked further.
Jack made himself smile encouragingly. Hey, he could feel encouragement for Donnie, if not for himself. “You did real good, Donnie. Thanks.”
Donnie smiled, too, but Jack didn’t think he’d ever seen the guy look worse than he did in that moment. The past few months had really taken a toll on him. But now it was over. Or maybe just beginning. After today, Donnie was going to be buried in WITSEC, given a new name, a new identity, a new social security number, a new life. Jack just hoped the guy realized what an amazing opportunity that was and didn’t screw it up. And he didn’t think Donnie would. His friend had wised up a lot over the past few years. In spite of his youthful stupidity, he seemed determined to lead a good life now. Donnie, Jack was confident, would make the best of his second chance.
The two men sat quietly through the rest of the day’s proceedings, then, when the judge called a recess until the following day, waited for everyone else to file out before rising themselves. Another marshal sat on Donnie’s other side, and the three of them stood together.
The other marshal, though, turned around first, and when he did, Jack heard him say, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to leave with the others,” since, for the sake of security, the room had to be cleared before they could escort Donnie out.
Jack and Donnie turned, too, Jack only vaguely interested in who the woman might be—probably a member of the press corps wanting an interview—but when he saw her, he put his hand on Donnie’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Douglas,” he told the other marshal. “She’s a friend.”
That was when Donnie turned around, too, his mouth falling open when he saw Gabriela Denunzio sitting at the very back of the room. She hadn’t changed much since they were teenagers, Jack reflected, still had a mane of thick black hair and pale brown eyes and lots of dangerous curves. But as much as Jack had lusted for her and her twin sister in high school, he felt not a single stirring of desire now. Well, not for either of the Denunzio twins, anyway. His desire was all twisted in a knot and panting for Natalie Dorset, who lived a thousand miles away, and who he hadn’t seen or spoken to in a month, and who he still hurt from missing.
Donnie turned to look at Jack, as if asking for permission to go to her, and Jack nodded, smiling. Douglas started to mutter an objection, but Jack cut him off with a look. “It’s okay,” he told the other marshal again. “Really.”
And he wished he could say the same thing for himself.
He waited a few minutes while Donnie and Gabriela spoke in low tones, then, when he started to grow worried about Donnie being out in the open like this, he slowly approached the couple to express his concern. As he drew nearer, though, he couldn’t help overhearing part of the exchange, and he halted to give them just a few minutes more. He knew the value of a last few extra minutes, after all. He’d spent the last month replaying that last few extra minutes he’d had with Natalie in her classroom.
“It’s never too late, Donnie,” Gabriela was saying. “Not if you figure out what’s wrong and fix it.” She pushed herself up on tiptoe and kissed Donnie on the cheek, then smiled shyly. “We have a lot to talk about before you go.”
Donnie glanced over his shoulder at Jack, and Jack nodded. They’d figure out a way to make it happen. Donnie smiled his gratitude, and Gabriela murmured a word of thanks to Jack. Then she threaded her arm through Donnie’s and followed Douglas out of the courtroom with Jack right on their heels.
Well, whattaya know, Jack thought as he watched the two of them walk away, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. Maybe Donnie would get a second chance with Gabriela, too. Somehow, the knowledge of that made him feel better.
THE MEMORY OF Donnie and Gabriela was still with Jack when he sat down—alone—to eat his dinner of frozen spinach lasagna and beer—alone—in his Brooklyn apartment that evening. Although he’d been back for a month, he still didn’t feel like he was home.
Before his sojourn down in Louisville, he’d never paid much attention to the place where he lived. He’d moved to his apartment not long after becoming a federal marshal, and over the years had furnished it with functional furniture and all the necessities a single man required—a righteous stereo system, a refrigerator big enough to hold leftovers from Sunday dinners at his mom’s and a case of Sam Adams, microwave, alarm clock, Xbox and the biggest damned TV he could find. His sisters and mother all had done their best to make the place homier whenever they came by to visit—which wasn’t all that frequent—but most of their contributions had threatened to turn the place into the Spiegel catalog, and many had mysteriously disappeared over the years. All in all, Jack had always considered his place to be…fine. Nothing fancy, but it suited his needs.
Since returning to New York, though, his apartment hadn’t been fine. And it sure as hell hadn’t seemed to suit his needs. Every day when he came home, he found himself prowling around the place, because it always seemed like something was missing. But try as he might to figure out what was wrong, nothing ever was. Nothing had changed since he left. What had been there before was there now. Somehow, though, it still felt…wrong.
And, inescapably, he’d found himself constantly comparing his own apartment to Natalie’s. Hers hadn’t been any bigger than his, but somehow, it had seemed so much more accommodating. Natalie’s place had looked and felt like Natalie—warm, welcoming, interesting, cozy. Her place had had personality. And it had made Jack feel good inside. Just like Natalie had.
God, why hadn’t he called her?
And why hadn’t she called him?
He told himself he shouldn’t have expected her to call him. He was the one who’d taken off without even saying goodbye, and he’d written in his note—a note, for God’s sake—that he’d call her when he got the chance. But a part of him had thought—or maybe hoped—that she would call him first. Natalie Dorset wasn’t the kind of woman to take a goodbye letter from a jerk like Jack lying down. Wasn’t she the one who’d told him flat out that she’d stay up all night waiting for him to come back, if it meant they could make love? And then, when he didn’t go back, wasn’t she the one who’d called him on it and told him flat out that she still wanted to?
When Natalie Dorset wanted something, she made it known. So if she hadn’t called Jack, then it could only be because she didn’t want him. And maybe, when all was said and done, that was what had kept Jack from calling her. First, it had been because he was too chicken, and he just hadn’t known what to say to her. But then, as the days had gone by, and she hadn’t called him, either, it had been because he was afraid she just didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to remember him. Because if she had, she would have called him.
Unless maybe…
Something hot and frantic splashed through Jack’s belly then, and the beer he’d been lifting to his mouth slammed back down onto the table with a thump. What if something had happened to her? he wondered. What if the reason Natalie hadn’t called him was because she hadn’t been able to call him?
Why hadn’t he thought about that before? he demanded of himself now. What if she’d been sick? Or hit by a bus as she walked through the school parking lot? What if she was in the hospital right now, calling out his name? Jack…Jack…Where are you, Jack…? Jaaaaaaaack… What if she’d been standing in line at the bank when armed robbers burst in, and what if she’d been caught in the cross fire when the cops responded and been grazed by a bullet or something? What if she’d been sitting too close to the ring at a pro-wrestling match and been beaned by a flying heavyweight? What if she had amnesia? What if she’d been abducted by aliens? What if a bunch of radical activists had broken in to Mrs. Klosterman’s house and were holding Natalie and Mrs. K—and hell, even Mojo—hostage in exchange for their imprisoned leader right now?
Hey, it could happen.
Oh, man, he had to get back to Louisville. He had to help Natalie. He just hoped it wasn’t too late…
“ARE YOU OKAY?”
The question should have been easy to answer, Natalie told herself. And it would have been, had it not been for the fact that only minutes ago, she’d been buried in a deep, deep sleep, but had been awakened by the brutal buzzing of her doorbell, something that had made her snap up in bed so quickly that she’d startled Mojo, who had been so frightened by being jerked out of his own deep, deep sleep that he’d dug his claws—all twelve of them, since he had an extra one on each front paw—into the thigh he’d been nestled against—Natalie’s thigh, incidentally—which had really jerked her out of a deep, deep sleep, and then she’d tripped over a stray shoe after leaping out of bed, something that had sent her barreling into the nightstand before tumbling down onto all fours, but rattling the nightstand that way had made her glasses go careening to the floor, so while she was down there, she’d had to feel around for them until she found them, and meanwhile, the doorbell just kept buzzing frantically, and all she’d been able to think was that Mrs. Klosterman was having a heart attack, and she couldn’t find her glasses to drive her to the emergency room, and then she’d finally slammed her hand down on her glasses—so hard that she’d snapped off the earpiece—but she’d stuck them on her face anyway, kind of haphazardly, and then gone limping out to the living room, where the buzzing was even louder and more frantic now, to throw open the door and find—
“Jack.”
Which was another thing that made it hard for her to answer what should have been an easy question.
She took off her glasses and closed her eyes to rub them hard, certain she must still be asleep and dreaming this. But when she opened them again, Jack was still there, closer now, his hands wrapped around her upper arms. And all she could think was, Dammit, why does he always show up when I’m wearing goofy flannel pajamas? Because tonight she had opted for the hot pink ones that had humongous bowls of ice cream all over them. Well, what had she cared? It wasn’t like anyone else was going to see her in them, because Jack had left her high and dry a month ago and hadn’t called once, even though he’d said he would and—
“And why didn’t you call me?” she demanded before she could stop herself.
It was then that she noticed how hard he was breathing, and that his hair was a mess, as if he’d been dragging ferocious hands through it for the last few hours. He was wearing his black motorcycle jacket again, but it looked kind of rumpled, like maybe he’d been bunching it up in his fists when he hadn’t had it on. The white T-shirt beneath it had a marinara stain on it, as if he’d been wearing it since dinner time, which would have been…Dammit, she couldn’t do math in the wee small hours of the morning. A long time ago. Her gaze skittered down over the black jeans and motorcycle boots—still unpolished, she noted with some regret—and fell on the weekender bag at his feet.
Yes, he’d come back to Louisville, she thought. But he obviously wasn’t planning to stay long.
“You shouldn’t open your front door without checking to see who it is first,” he told her. Vaguely, she noted that he was neither greeting her, nor answering her question. “For all you know,” he added, “I could have been a bunch of radical activists who were breaking in to Mrs. K’s house to hold you and Mrs. K—and hell, even Mojo—hostage in exchange for their imprisoned leader.”
Vaguely, she noted that he was also making no sense. Natalie narrowed her eyes at him. And she was pretty sure she spoke for herself and Mrs. Klosterman—and hell, even Mojo—when she said, “Huh?”
Jack smiled, a tremulous, anxious little smile. “Are you okay?” he said again.
And there was just something in his voice when he said it that made Natalie go all soft and gooey inside. “I’m fine,” she told him quietly. “There hasn’t been any radical activist hostage-taking activity in the house for, oh, gosh, a couple of weeks now, at least.”
“And you weren’t abducted by aliens, either?” he asked earnestly.
Natalie honestly had to think about that for a minute. Not because she was trying to remember if such a thing had happened—even in her sleep-interrupted state, she could safely say that she had never been aboard a UFO—but because she was trying to figure out what the hell was going on in Jack’s head. Finally, though, “Um, no,” she said. “Haven’t seen any aliens for a while, either.”
“Any odd occurrences at the bank lately? Robberies? Cross fire? Getting grazed by bullets?”
She shook her head and eyed him with much concern. “Nope.”
“Buses at the school been treating you okay?”
“Yeah…”
“Been to any pro wrestling matches lately?”
“Nuh-uh.”
His gaze roved hungrily over her face again. “And you called me Jack, so you remember my name—you don’t have amnesia.”
Okay, now this was just plain weird. “Of course I remember your name. Jack, what’s going on?”
“Ah, Natalie,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on. I just know I needed to see you. Right away. Make sure you were okay and everything.”
“You could have just picked up the phone,” she said. Then, before he had a chance to respond, she added, “Oh, wait. Maybe not. You don’t seem to be too good at using the phone.”
She hated herself for being sarcastic, but what was she supposed to do? A month goes by without word from him, even though he’d promised to call, and then suddenly he was at her door, waking her up in the middle of the night to ask her if she’d been abducted by aliens. Call her unreasonable, but the situation just didn’t make her feel like herself.
He studied her in silence for a moment, his expression sober and not a little hurt. “I didn’t call you,” he said, “because I didn’t know what to tell you. I couldn’t figure out how to explain everything, because I didn’t understand everything. I just knew I had to get back to New York with Donnie and didn’t have any choice about that, and I didn’t have time to work through everything else. And there was so much other stuff, Natalie. So much stuff that I wanted to say, but couldn’t figure out how to say it. I just…I just…I—”
“Look, Jack,” she interrupted him when he started to flounder, hoping maybe she could help him out. “You don’t have to explain that part. I always knew where I stood with you, really I did. Ever since that talk we had after we made love that first time, I understood that your job was a lot more to you than just a job. And I understood that you were only in Louisville temporarily, and that you couldn’t possibly stay, because your job obligations were elsewhere. You made that clear. So I totally understood.”
Jack looked at Natalie, saw her mouth moving and recognized the words she was saying as being English. And he appreciated that she was trying to help him out here. But he wasn’t sure he liked what he was hearing from her. Which was weird, because the words and the sentiment sounded kind of familiar to him….
“Plus,” she continued before he had a chance to respond, “I knew you were used to living in a big city, where you could get anything you wanted, anytime you wanted it. I couldn’t possibly have been so selfish as to expect you to stay here.” She met his gaze levelly as she added, “Even if I did…even if I do…you know…love you.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, Jack thought. Now these words, and this sentiment, were definitely new. Now she was saying something that wasn’t familiar to him at all. At least, he didn’t think it was familiar. Was it?
“And I couldn’t have been so presumptuous as to follow you back to New York,” she went on, “because, well, you didn’t invite me, for one thing. But also because I knew your job was very demanding and time-consuming, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to start worrying that I might resent you someday because you were never around.”
Okay, now this was sounding familiar again. But he still wasn’t sure he was liking it.
“Even if I was sure that would never, ever happen, because I did…I do…you know…love you.”
Wow. There it was again. She was saying that thing that shouldn’t have been familiar—and that should have been terrifying, quite frankly—but it somehow felt like it totally belonged in the equation, and was a perfectly natural part of what was going on.
“So I understood,” she went on, “that you had to go back to New York—alone—and I wouldn’t have thought of trying to keep you here or follow you back there. I understood all that, Jack,” she said again. “Really. I did. Honest. I totally, totally understood.” She hesitated just a moment, then added, “What I didn’t understand was how you could just leave me without telling me goodbye.”
A loud buzzing had erupted in Jack’s ears as he listened to Natalie talk, mostly, he supposed, because she had just repeated so many of the thoughts he’d had himself before leaving her, but which, strangely—or maybe not so strangely—he hadn’t once entertained since returning to New York. Well, except for that part about her, you know, loving him. He hadn’t thought about that before leaving Louisville. Or after he’d returned to New York, either. At least, he didn’t think he’d thought about it there…
Now, though, it seemed like the only thing he should be thinking about. Because he realized then—or maybe he’d realized it before, when he’d gone back to Brooklyn—that that was the reason why what he felt for Natalie was so different from what he’d felt for other women. He’d never been in love with those women. They’d never felt like a part of him the way Natalie did. It hadn’t hurt to lose them, because he hadn’t been losing them, not really. But he had lost Natalie. For a whole month. And it had been hell. And he didn’t want it to happen again. Because he suddenly realized—or maybe it wasn’t so sudden after all—that he was in love with her. It all made sense to him now. Being in love with her was what had brought him back here. And now that he was back here…
“You understood why I left, huh?” he asked her.
She nodded slowly.
“Then that puts you one up on me,” he said.
Her dark eyebrows arrowed downward. “What do you mean?”
He expelled a sound of exasperation. Exasperation for himself, mainly, because he was so dense. “I mean that maybe it took me a month to figure it out, but I finally understand now, too.”
“What?” she asked. “What is it you understand?”
He took a step toward her and pulled her into his arms, dipping his head forward so that he could press his forehead to hers. “Natalie, I have missed you so much over the past month that I’ve felt like a part of myself was missing,” he told her without reservation. “What I understand now is that I won’t feel good again until I can be with you. I understand now that I don’t want to lose you. And I understand now that I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep us together. Because as big and exciting as New York is, there is, in fact, one thing I can’t get there anytime I want it.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
He smiled. “You. I can’t get you there. Because you’re here. And you wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to follow me back to New York. Which is going to be a problem,” he added, pulling her closer to him still.
“Why?”
“Because I, you know, love you, too.”
“Oh, Jack…”
“I want us to be together, Natalie,” he told her again. “I don’t care where or how or what the circumstances are. I just want to be with you. Forever.”
“Oh, Jack…” she said again. But this time, she punctuated the remark by looping one arm around his neck and the other around his waist.
And oh, man, did it feel good to have her there again.
He looked around then, at Natalie’s apartment in Mrs. Klosterman’s house, and he realized then that he did actually care where or how or what the circumstances were. Natalie wasn’t the only person he’d come to care about. Because the truth was, he’d kind of been missing his former landlady, too. And he’d been missing this neighborhood—it was a lot like the one where he grew up, only without the bad element thriving. Old Louisville was like what he’d always envisioned his own home place could be like in the best of circumstances. Only it was better. Because it had Natalie.
“Oh, Jack,” she said a third time, her voice trembling. “I want us to be together forever, too. But I love it here—I don’t want to live in New York. And there’s Mrs. Klosterman—she’s like the only family I’ve ever had. I don’t want to leave her. But I’m afraid if you move here, you won’t stay. I’m afraid this life here won’t be enough to satisfy you. That you’d always regret giving up the life you have now in New York.”
He cupped his hands firmly under her chin and brushed a soft kiss on her mouth. “Natalie,” he said firmly. “Since I went back to New York, I don’t have a life. And even if my life there could be full of riches and adventure and every pleasure known to mankind, if you’re not in it, then it’s nothing. Knowwhuddamean?”
Natalie smiled, and then nodded. Because she did understand. Her life would be the same way without Jack. “So then you’re not just back for a visit?” she asked.
“Well, I did sort of leave a few things up in the air up there. For instance, I’m supposed to be at work in—” he looked at his watch “—about four hours.”
“Oh, Jack,” she said, laughing.
“But I’m due for a little vacation time. Especially after this assignment with Donnie. I think if I give them my two weeks’ notice tomorrow…today…whatever…I’ll be good for a month off with pay. That ought to give me time to line up something down here. Something permanent. Maybe even the same thing I’m doing now.”
“But the Mob isn’t a problem down here,” she told him.
He grinned. “Yeah, I know. Which is something else I love about the place.”
“But that’s your life calling,” she reminded him.
He shook his head. “Not anymore. Now my life calling is you.”
He pulled her closer, until he could touch his mouth to hers, and Natalie curled her fingers into his hair and kissed him back deeply, vying with him over possession. For a long time, they only stood at her front door, each trying to devour the other, until Jack pushed the door closed with his foot. Then he took a small step forward, forcing Natalie to take a small step back. That step was followed by another, less small, step. And that one was followed by another. And then another. And another.
And with each step he took, he deepened the kiss, simultaneously tasting and testing Natalie. Little by little, he danced her down her short hallway to her bedroom, which he entered without hesitation. He dropped onto the bed and tugged her down into his lap, then pulled his mouth free of hers to look at her, as if he wanted to silently reassert his intention to stay with her forever. She smiled as she wove her fingers through his hair, nodded to let him know she believed him, then leaned forward and kissed him again.
Jack curved his fingers over her nape, cupping the back of her head in his palm, and draped his other arm over her thighs. In turn, Natalie circled his shoulders with her arms and pushed herself closer, tangling her fingers in his hair as she kissed him more deeply still, with all the wanting and the longing that had been building for so long. He responded by opening his hand over her thigh, squeezing it hard before dragging his fingers up over her leg and under her pajama shirt, then settling the splayed fingers of his other hand possessively over her fanny.
When she murmured low in response to his touch, he pressed his palm more firmly over her derriere. And when she shifted on his lap, he groaned, swelling to life against her. The hand that had dipped beneath her top prowled higher, moving forward to cover her breast. And when she pulled her mouth from his to whisper his name, he pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin of her neck.
As he palmed her sensitive flesh, he pushed her top up under her arms, nuzzling the fragrant skin between her breasts before running the tip of his tongue along one plump lower curve. Natalie caught her fingers in his hair and tipped his head backward, but Jack leaned forward again and drew her nipple deep into his mouth. This time she was the one to tip her head backward, and then her body began to fall backward, halting only when he braced his arm against her back to prevent her from tumbling out of his lap and onto the floor. He held her that way while he tasted her, his mouth closing over her breasts again and again, his tongue at once insistent and indolent, generous and demanding. Finally, though, he chose one breast and held it firmly in his hand, focusing his attentions on it completely, until, unable to tolerate the threads of delight unraveling inside her, Natalie cried his name out loud.
Only then did Jack withdraw. After he pulled her pajama top over her head, she clawed at his shirt until it was off. Liberated from the garment, Jack pushed Natalie back onto the bed, settling his body between her legs, and weaving his fingers through her hair.
“I love you,” he said simply. “And I will always love you. Do you believe me, Natalie?”
She nodded, knowing unequivocally that it was true. “And I love you,” she said. “Forever, Jack. Forever.”
He sealed their promises with a kiss, a long, hard, thorough kiss that illustrated their love for each other quite clearly. Then Natalie felt his hand working its way between their bodies, untying the drawstring of her pajama bottoms and tugging them down. He continued to kiss her as he dipped his hand inside the soft flannel, then beneath the cotton of her panties, until he located the dampened heart of her. He swallowed whatever scant protests she might have offered—not that she really wanted to offer any—with another kiss, then drove her to near madness with his eager and expert caresses.
Natalie stilled at his touch, enjoying the lazy exploration of his fingers. But soon, she began to move with him, arching her hips off the mattress, opening her legs wider to encourage him further. He kissed her neck and her shoulder, dragged his tongue along her collarbone, sucked her breast into his mouth again. And then he penetrated her with one long finger, sliding it in deep, making her gasp as a shudder of heat rocketed through her.
And then Jack was skimming her pajama bottoms and panties down over her thighs and knees and ankles, until she was lying naked beneath him. But he was still half-dressed, damn him, which she simply could not have, so instinctively, almost incoherently, she reached for the fly of his jeans and jerked the button and zipper free. Then she shoved her hands beneath the waistband at his back to grasp the hot, taut flesh of his buttocks, before peeling the worn denim down. And then she felt his hard heavy shaft nestled between her legs, and she knew she was almost home.
Bending her knees, she pushed herself forward and wrapped her fingers around the heated length of him, stroking him none too gently, and loving the way he grew harder still in her hand. This time she was the one to sheathe him before guiding him to herself, but this time he was the one who pushed himself inside. Natalie gasped at the depth of his penetration, feeling fuller and more complete than she had ever felt. Before she had a chance to grow accustomed to having him inside her, he withdrew, and before she could protest, he slammed into her again.
This time she cried out loud at the power of his possession, the sound of his name surrounding them both. Jack thrust against her again…and again…and again, increasing his rhythm with every push, rocking his hips against hers with a pulsing regularity that very nearly drove her mad. Then Natalie began to move, too, her body seeming to respond on its own, sensing what Jack needed from her, and taking what she needed from him in return…
The faster they went, the more Natalie began to unravel, and she yielded to her response quite willingly, letting it run wild. Just when she thought she would lose herself completely, Jack rolled until he was beneath her, bucking savagely up to meet her, penetrating her more deeply than she ever could have imagined.
Once more, he upped the intensity of his movements, until Natalie became lost in the waves of ecstasy breaking inside her. With one final thrust, they cried out together, then she leaned forward and kissed him—kissed him as if she needed him for life itself. But the touch of her mouth on his brought her back to herself again. And she knew she was right where she belonged—with Jack. Forever. The way he belonged with her. As he relaxed beneath her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down to lie beside him.
And Natalie knew then that their happily-ever-after had begun.