“It was for me,” Jared answered calmly. “There’s nothing better than watching you come, Mara. And I’m not pushing you for more than you want to give me right now.”
Her heart melted. If Jared only knew that she’d wanted to give him everything, make him as crazy as he’d just made her simply with his voice, his touch, and his kiss. Chances were, if he’d stripped her naked and taken her right here in the kitchen, she wouldn’t have stopped him. She might have even begged him to do it. He hadn’t done that because she had reservations, because she might end up hurt when this was all over and his attraction waned. “Thank you. But I don’t feel right that you still haven’t . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“That I didn’t come.” Jared pulled back and looked down at her with heated eyes. “Don’t. A hard-on isn’t fatal. Plus, I have plenty of fantasy material now when I take care of the problem myself.”
She bit her lip to keep from moaning, visions of Jared stroking himself to completion, his head thrown back as he came, were now floating erotically through her mind. “I’d like to watch that,” she blurted out before she could censor herself.
Jared gave her a mischievous smile. “I don’t generally sell tickets to that particular event, but you’re welcome to an exclusive showing.”
She pulled away from him regretfully. “Sounds like trouble,” she answered, trying to appear nonchalant when she was anything but aloof right at the moment.
“The best kind of trouble,” he agreed in a hopeful voice.
“You’re a wicked man, Jared Sinclair,” she admonished playfully, her hands still not completely steady as she grabbed a pot holder and took the corn bread out of the oven. Truth was, she loved his kind of trouble, and his sexy voice saying erotic things to her drove her half-crazy.
“Baby, you haven’t begun to see me misbehaving,” he drawled in a husky voice.
No? Oh, God, then I’d really like to see you completely wanton.
Her wayward core flooded with heat just at the thought of Jared abandoned and wild. Something about his raw sensuality called to a carnal side of her that she hadn’t known existed.
“Time to eat,” she squeaked, needing to change the subject.
“My thoughts exactly.” He leaned against the kitchen counter and sent her a wicked, heated grin.
Mara stirred the mixture in the pot on the stove furiously, fairly certain he wasn’t talking about lobster stew.
“These are terrible,” Mara giggled later that evening as she looked at the long string of photos that had spit out of the machine at the Amesport Arcade. “I look like a confused owl. I should have taken my glasses off.” She’d been squashed beside Jared in the picture booth, laughing at his dry jokes as the pictures were taken.
“I like them,” Jared said indignantly, snatching the strand of images from her hand.
Mara rolled her eyes as they waited in line to turn in their tickets. They’d wandered to the arcade hours ago when they’d driven into town. She’d finally convinced Jared that she was perfectly able to do the farmers’ market this week, and she wanted supplies. Reluctantly, he’d agreed, but insisted on driving her into town to carry anything she needed.
He’d spotted the small arcade along the boardwalk while he was waiting as she’d ducked into one of the shops along Main Street. She’d seen him jogging back from the bank across the street, his hands full of rolls of quarters as she’d exited the store.
After depositing her supplies in his SUV, he’d nearly dragged her down to the arcade, and they’d been there ever since. She’d learned he was an expert at Skee-Ball, and he could trounce her at almost any video game. Collecting tickets like a madman, he’d hit every game in the small arcade more than once.
Munching on a bag of popcorn he’d bought for her, she sighed. “I love it here. This place has been here as long I can remember.” The old building could use a paint job, but it was loud, colorful, and just as happy as she remembered. “This is where my mom taught me how to play Pac-Man.”
“She must have been good,” he grumbled.
“She was,” Mara answered with a smile, loving the fact that there was at least one game that she was better at than he was. “Where did you learn to play all of these old games so well?”
Jared smiled at her as he folded the photos carefully and put them in his pocket. “I have three older brothers and three male cousins. We used to spend some time with my cousins in the summer, who were raised near Salem. We snuck out of the house as often as we could to play at the arcade, sometimes every day.”
“There are more Sinclairs?”
“Yep. They scattered around the country, too, just like we did. Offspring of my father’s younger brother, but they’re close to us in age.”
“You never see them anymore?”
“I think they’re all coming to Dante’s wedding. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together. A long time,” Jared answered, his voice holding a note of regret.