“Sorry, Red. Couldn’t resist. It’s not often—or ever, for that matter—that I catch you daydreaming.” He slid her Heineken across the table to her and leaned in close, his eyes darkening several shades. “Were you thinking about me bending you over the handlebars of a certain watercraft and taking you from behind?”
The tone in his voice had changed to one he always used with her during sex. So unlike his normal, playful tone, this was sexually charged and authoritative. They’d only been together a handful of times and yet she already responded to that voice like one of Pavlov’s dogs. As soon as she heard it, she melted into a woman whose every goal was to follow his lead. She’d tried fighting it, tried taking back her usual control, but never succeeded. There was something about Jackson Maris that unraveled her control. No, she realized, that wasn’t it. He unraveled her need for control.
Oh my God. That’s it, isn’t it? She half expected to look up and see a floating lightbulb over her head. Her need for control—for her rules—was because she didn’t trust anyone to do right by her. If she controlled everything and everyone around her, she never needed to worry about that.
But almost from the first, she’d felt differently with Jackson. Outside the bedroom he was easygoing, laid-back. More than happy to let her indulge her need to hold the reins. But when it came to intimacy, he snatched the reins right out of her hands and refused to give them back until he was good and ready. And even though she’d fought it out of habit for a while, subconsciously she’d known she was safe with him. So she’d been able to let go. Finally.
She hadn’t realized until now just how freeing that was for her. To let someone else take control, to give her what she needed without her having to take it or order it like she was choosing from a fucking menu. Yes, I’ll have the Bites On My Neck as an appetizer and the Take Me From Behind, medium raw, as my entree, with Pull My Hair and Make Me Beg For It for my sides. Oh! And I’d love some Not-At-All-Awkward Snuggling for dessert. Thanks ever so much.
She met Jackson’s dark gaze and answered him honestly. “Yes. I was.”
“Good. Because I can’t get it out of my head, either.”
“Oh, yeah?” They were in a public place. Surely she could challenge him a teensy bit, right? “Which part exactly?”
The black of his eyes swallowed what little color was left and their intensity left her feeling as naked and on display as she’d been earlier in that cove. “Careful, babe. I’ve never been one for huge public displays, but when it comes to you, it won’t take much to incite me into throwing you up against the nearest wall and taking what I want.” He dragged the rough pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “Especially now that I know what it’s like to have you bare. Goddamn, you felt so good.”
A shiver of unadulterated desire swept over her body. All the moisture sucked out of her mouth and apparently ended up between her legs. He kissed her lightly and then leaned back in his chair, casual as could be, as if he hadn’t just shaken her to her very core with nothing more than words.
She swiped her bottle up and quickly downed half its contents before setting it back on the table. Jackson chuckled as he lifted his own beer to his lips and did the same. Thankfully the waitress brought their food then, because she’d been in danger of leaning over and licking that sexy Adam’s apple as he drank. What? Can those even be sexy? Mentally, she slammed her head against the table. She was soooo into this fling a lot deeper than she’d planned. The next thing she knew she’d be sighing over the guy’s cuticles. Come on, Nessie, where’d you put your balls?
For the next hour they enjoyed their food, talked, laughed, and even debated politics. Turned out, Jackson was extremely intelligent and up on current events. He had a large database of useless facts stored in that gorgeous head of his. By the time they finished their Kimo’s Original Hula Pie—which was absolutely sinful and totally worth the extra sit-ups she’d have to do—she was ashamed of herself for assuming he was simple-minded simply because he had a career in fighting and a hobby in surfing.
He set his fork down after taking his last bite and noticed her staring. “Do I have whipped cream on my face or something?”
She smiled, thinking of what she’d like to do if he had whipped cream anywhere on him. “No, you’re fine. Want to play a game of darts?”
He shot a skeptical glance at the dartboard. “On that thing? It’s broken.”
She shrugged. “So we’ll keep score in our heads, or else ask for a pen and notepad.”
“I’m surprised you’d want to play without your own darts. You and Lucie take this game pretty seriously, don’t you? You’ll have to use bar darts. Could throw off your game.”
“Then you’ll actually have a chance of beating me. If I had my darts, I’d kick your ass down Waikiki beach and back. Then again, I’ll probably still do that without my own darts.”