Jack inhaled, breathing me in. “God,” he murmured.
I knew I should stop him, stop this, but for a moment I just wanted to … feel again.
A thumb pad brushed down over the pulse beating wildly in my neck, and I let out a breath that hitched without my consent. I was thirsty for Jack’s mouth, but I refused to close the miniscule distance.
“How can you tell me this isn’t real?” Jack whispered, his words caressing my mouth. Then his tongue flicked gently across my lower lip.
Oh God.
A small sound escaped me. I should have stopped him sooner.
“This is as real as it gets, Keri Ann. This is Technicolor, when everything else is black and white. This …” His hand trailed down over the exposed skin of my chest then brushed over my dress and the tip of my breast sending shock waves through me. I arched into his hand without meaning to.
Damn my traitorous self.
His hand didn’t stop, but floated down my belly to my thigh, and I tensed, my mouth pressed tight to keep my reactions in, trembling on the edge of a place where my pride would cease to exist.
“This …” he continued and began bunching up my dress in his fist and drawing it up my thigh, “what we have … is extra-sensory overload … where everything else is a silent fucking movie.”
I panted out a breath then jammed my jaw shut.
My dress glided up. Heat pooled low in my belly. It was intoxicating. Would anything in my whole life ever feel this way? I’d been numb before he’d touched me and numb since he’d been gone. I wanted to sob with the injustice of it.
How could I not want to be with him and want to be consumed by him at the same time? I wanted to be back on that bed underneath him, the way he’d looked at me as if I was his salvation. His benediction. His release.
But I knew why I didn’t want it. I’d lose myself in him.
“This,” I managed just as his hand released my bunched up dress and landed hot on my bare upper thigh, sending waves of sensation cascading over my skin, “is just lust.” Grabbing his face between my hands in the pitch dark, I closed the distance and slanted my mouth over his, sliding my tongue into his delicious mouth.
Jack groaned deeply, and his fingers on my thigh dug in.
He tasted so good. So … Jack. His face was hard and rough beneath my fingers, his mouth soft as he let me in, kissing me back gently, not responding to my aggression. So I kissed him harder, wanting to punish him for doing this to me. Wanting him to take over for me, make it so it wasn’t my fault we were here again. Make it so it was him kissing me, and I wasn’t willingly doing this.
This was so messed up.
His gentleness and his refusal to respond to my fierce need did me in. And made me crazy. I pulled my mouth from his, our erratic breathing reverberating around the interior of the vehicle. I struggled to shut down my body.
He was heavy as I pushed at him in the pitch black, moving him away from me.
Turning in my seat, I flicked the truck lights back on, and the light sloshed over the heated moment like ice water.
“Get out of my truck, Jack.”
“What?” His voice was ragged, but I refused to look at him.
“You heard me. Get. Out. I can’t do this with you. I won’t. How can you even expect me to? How can I even want to?”
Jack blew out a harsh breath and adjusted in his seat. Silence and unspoken words stretched out, wending their way around the truck, sliding into all the available space between us and pressing me back into my seat with their weight.
And then, I heard him move to open the truck door. He paused as the interior light flicked on, and the pressure between us released into the night.
“Tonight, that girl, like all of the girls, the interchangeable, available girls, that girl—”
“Her name is Ashley.”
“Whatever. Ashley … offered to blow me.”
I flinched and my stomach dropped. “I don’t have time for this, Jack.”
“But I told her, very nicely and quietly, so as not to embarrass her in front of her friends, that I had no intention of taking her up on her offer.”
“Poor Ashley,” I muttered sarcastically. He climbed out, and then leaned back into the cab of the truck, his shoulders hunched and broad, filling the doorway.
His eyes were fierce, bitter, and vulnerable at the same time. “I’m telling you about Ashley to illustrate a point. I’m not just trying to get laid. I can get laid anytime I want. I’m a potential trophy fuck to pretty much every woman I meet.” There wasn’t even a hint of arrogance in his expression, despite his words.