focus only on the nubile flesh between his teeth, sucking, nibbling and releasing it in slow succession.
A throaty groan erupted from Claire, and then her hands were on his head, pulling his face closer. Her fingers tunneled through his hair, tickling his scalp, massaging it, holding him there.
She was responding, kissing him back, nipping at his lips, seeking his tongue. Their mouths melded together and the kiss turned hot so fast, the windows steamed up.
Fuck, he’d damn near come in his pants from kissing her yesterday, and he feared he might face the same dilemma today. Still, it didn’t stop him, didn’t inspire him to pull his mouth away even one inch.
Claire emitted soft, hungry moans that played havoc with his already knotted balls. She kissed him as though she fed off his mouth, gaining sustenance from him. And damned if it didn’t give him an erection from hell. Damned if her enthusiasm and her taste didn’t have his hand on her breast and his fingers gently squeezing the abundant flesh.
She more than filled his palm, making him greedy to touch all of her, greedy to have both breasts in his hands—unencumbered by shirts and bras.
All his life he’d favored small women. Short, thin and small-chested, everything Claire was not. Yet here, with her tantalizing tongue tempting his, and the nipple of her ample breast tightening beneath his touch, he had no idea how he could ever have found skinny women more appealing than this beauty.
Jack lost himself to her kiss, to her feel, to her touch. Their mouths worked in perfect accord, as if they each instinctively knew what the other sought or needed.
Or perhaps Jack just knew what he instinctively needed and sought to give her the same. One thing he did know was that kissing Claire Jones was an experience he wished to relive over and over again. Or maybe he’d just ensure this kiss never ended.
But a kiss would never suffice. His cock pointed out that fact as it swelled against his zip, demanding attention, demanding satisfaction, demanding access to Claire’s body.
He pulled away with reluctance, then almost sealed their lips together again when Claire groaned in protest.
He forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at her, and had to bite his cheek hard at the sight that greeted him. Claire’s head was tipped back, her eyes closed and her lips swollen and parted. It took every iota of willpower he possessed not to clamp his mouth back over hers.
“Unless you want me to strip you naked and fuck you in this car, right here, in the middle of Mosman,” he rasped, “I suggest you climb out very quickly.”
Her eyes popped open, their hazel rims almost invisible around huge black pupils.
“I seem to have very little control when you’re around, Miss Jones.” He grit his teeth, pain and frustration radiating from his pelvic area, making speech almost impossible. Jack pushed through it, aware that his hand was still on her breast, his thumb brushing over the distended nipple. “Go now, before I rip off your shirt and suck on your nipples.” He yanked his hand away, knowing if he moved any slower, he’d never release her.
They sat in his car on Military Road in broad daylight. Anyone could look inside. And while the idea of being watched bothered him not at all, he couldn’t bear Claire facing that indignity. She’d blushed just discussing their kiss yesterday, done her best to deny it. If strangers saw her getting naked with him, he suspected she’d never get over the humiliation.
She stared at him with dazed eyes, blinking rapidly. It took a while, but her gaze began to clear. Her pupils contracted and the hazel rims grew bigger. As her gaze sobered, so did her expression. She snapped her mouth shut and color flooded her cheeks.
“Go now,” he half whispered, half threatened and pushed back, freeing her. He used the hand that had been on her breast to unclip her seatbelt, lest he slip and replace it on her soft, round globe and tease her nipple with his thumb once more.
Claire scrambled from the car, clonking him on the shoulder in her haste. Her color grew deeper as she called out an apology, but at least she was no longer beside him, beneath him, tempting him with her presence.
Fuck, if his pop could see him now, he’d smack him one on the back side of his head. It was bad enough he’d messed up with the contract. But to mess around with one of his clients would never suffice. Big Jack would not stand for it.
Except this didn’t feel like messing around. This felt more like compulsion, an undeniable need to get closer to Claire, to touch her, kiss her, and yes, to fuck her. It was an undeniable need to get to know everything about her.
He took several deep breaths, willing his erection down. Climbing out the car with a raging hard-on was not a good idea. But watching Claire smooth her hair and pull her blouse down helped not a bit.
When old flames unite, the heat is on!
Where There’s Smoke
© 2012 Jayne Rylon
A Two to Tango Story
Kyana Brady never intended to return to small-town life in upstate New York, but reality doesn’t give a damn about plans. She dropped everything to care for her dying aunt. Now that Rose is gone, Kyana realizes something else has changed—her priorities. Her high-paid, higher-stress law career no longer holds any appeal.
While debating her future, an insomnia-driven stroll turns into a desperate dash to save Rose’s elderly friend, Benjamin, from his burning house. And he’s always believed one good turn deserves another. So the old man rewards Kyana’s bravery with a little meddling in her love life.
After Ben’s great-nephew Logan witnesses his childhood friend’s bravery on the news, he rushes home to help his uncle rebuild. But before his hammer hits the first nail, sparks are flying. The heat between him and Kyana melts old affection into a completely new—and combustible—relationship.
Before they have a chance to discover how hot their love will burn, another disaster threatens to separate them forever. After all, they say bad luck comes in threes…
Warning: A love affair that’s been ten years in the making is sure to be hot enough to scorch. And everyone knows, where there’s smoke there’s fire.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Where There’s Smoke:
Logan snagged a plush towel off the rack and wrapped her in its softness. He buffed her arms and legs, making sure not to press any sore spots too hard, then wrapped a smaller cloth around her hair before attending to himself with a handful of swipes.
When he turned to put the towel in the hamper, Kyana plucked his clothes from the floor. She arranged his shirt over the shower door then dug into his jeans, rescuing his faux-leather wallet. He didn’t stop her fast enough.
His face heated, glowing as red as an overheated saw blade when she removed his ID and the last three crumpled singles he had left to his name. Instead of laughing at his pathetic life savings, she flattened the trio of bills on the counter and propped the cheap pleather open to allow air to circulate through the barren folds.
She distracted him from his discomfort when she peeked up from beneath long, if not curled, lashes. The raw vulnerability he spied in her eyes made him feel a little more on even footing. “Logan…”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go, Ky.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” She didn’t pry, just nodded, though her shoulders seemed to slump a little. Avoiding looking at him, she scooted past, into her bedroom.
“Hey, wait. That didn’t sound right.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair, thinking of the countless fuck-ups he’d made when it came to her. All the times he’d said the wrong thing. Or had been too afraid to try to find the perfect thing.
No more of that bullshit. Time to man up.
Crossing the threshold to her sanctuary, he took a gamble. “It wouldn’t matter. You know, if I had a hundred homes. This is where I want to be tonight. I’m only sorry I wasn’t here earlier. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, all of it, on your own. It’s been a long-ass time, bu
t I’m still the same guy who was your friend. I haven’t forgotten how you always had my back. Now let me get yours.”
From a hand-glazed dresser, she withdrew a gossamer garment intended to drive men insane with lust and admiration. Mission accomplished when it fluttered into place around her ideal form, leaving a surprising string of pink, white and red cherry blossoms exposed on her shoulder. He wouldn’t have expected her to go for tattoos, but the artwork suited her. It made his cock ten times harder.
“I’ve got things under control.”
“I don’t doubt that.” He watched her slip beneath the lush duvet and ridiculously soft-looking sheets. “But you can lean on me tonight. Today. Whatever the hell it is out there. And always. I hope you understand that.”
He considered getting in bed with his underwear on but didn’t want to risk the cheap black dye staining her fancy linens. With a shrug, he shimmied out of the sticky fabric, tossed it over his shoulder into the bathroom then strode to the bed.
Kyana’s laser-beam stare tracked his every movement until he obscured her view with the duvet, staying on top of the sheet she rested under. He wasn’t some kind of creeper who’d try to molest her when she was down…no matter how desperately the primal parts of his brain encouraged him to try.
They both lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling for a while. A chasm at least a foot wide separated their tense bodies in her luxurious bed. When he couldn’t stand it another second, he slid his hand beneath her shoulders and tugged. “This is stupid. We’re adults now. Come here.”
Thankfully, she didn’t fight. She laid her head on his shoulder and curled up to his side, with only the thin sheet separating them.
Logan decided it was time to go all or nothing. Lying wasn’t his style any more these days than it had been in high school. Hiding his feelings then had almost killed him.
“Sweet dreams, Kyana-chan.” He tipped up her chin and claimed her mouth in a brief kiss. Brushing his lips against hers, he relished her taste and the complete surrender she offered him. Resisting the urge to plunder, he attempted to illustrate the tumble of emotions rolling around in his guts. Slow, tender and lingering contact seemed to do the trick.
When they parted, they both were breathless.
“Welcome home,” she rasped.
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