He began to say my name, slowly at first, and then as my hips sped up, his hands gripped me tightly, and he sat up. I wrapped my legs behind him, this new position causing him to penetrate me more deeply, and I began to shudder. The sensation of everything was too much, and the tears that had been in my eyes from the second he entered me now spilled over.
His words belonged to me.
I began to clench down around him, and I knew we were both close.
My mouth was right next to his ear, and I said his name repeatedly as he pushed into me. He felt amazing. I was overwhelmed with emotion and the perfection of this moment, and he lifted his head off my shoulder, urging me to meet his gaze.
“Open your eyes, Grace. Look at me,” he managed to say as I dug my hands into his hair. I did what he asked, and when he saw the tears streaming down my face, his own face broke into the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.
“Oh, Grace. Gracie . . . I love . . . ,” he started to say but never finished. I placed my hand over his sweet mouth and whispered through my tears, “I know.”
The feeling of him inside me as I began to come, my shuddering and his shaking, drove me over the edge, and with throaty groans, we came at the same time.
I had the distinct honor of watching his angelic face as he came inside of me . . . the furrowed brow, the pursed lips, the clenched jaw, his whole face set in exquisite torture. It felt exactly right. We’d never taken our eyes off each other.
I know he’d been about to tell me he loved me. I would let him next time.
With the sexiest groan I’d ever heard, he collapsed against me, sighing sweetly, and wrapped his arms tightly around me, trying to get as close as possible. We fell back against the cool sheets, disentangling, only to tangle once more as I felt the loss of him immediately.
“Don’t go . . . no,” I said, wanting to keep him inside of me as long as possible. I cradled his head to my breast, running my fingers through his hair as he sighed contentedly, his breathing slowing. His hands traveled across my body, revisiting his favorite places, finally resting on my breasts.
As I heard his Happy Sound, I felt a sense of lovely exhaustion and peace. I no longer cared what would happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.
With my Jack snuggled up against me in the most delicious way, I sighed my own happy sigh and closed my eyes. I knew now, with certainty, that I belonged to him.
About twenty minutes later, both of us still nestled into each other, he cleared his throat and lifted his head off my chest, where he had been contentedly drawing circles on my breasts.
“Well now, I don’t know about you, but I think that was a fine bit of shagging, yes?” he asked, a glint in his eye.
“Yes, that was damn fine. But I do have one request,” I answered.
He looked concerned. “What, love?”
“Can I eat that candy now?” I asked.
I heard him mutter, “Candy . . . pfft,” and then I was whacked with a pillow. This time my tears were from laughter as I attempted to defend myself from a pillow-wielding, naked Brit.
There is really no defense against that.
twenty-two
Two seventeen A.M.
I woke up with a start and felt Jack clutch me closer in his sleep. I had been dreaming bad dreams.
Sad dreams.
In the last one, Jack and I were standing on opposite sides of a busy street in a crowded city. We were trying to cross the street to each other and kept being buffeted back onto the sidewalk. Each time one of us would try to cross, another line of angry cars would rush past, making it impossible for us to reach each other. Finally, he was tired of waiting and turned from me, walking away. That was when I woke up. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out . . .
I pulled myself out of his embrace and, grabbing his shirt from the floor, went out to the sitting room. The fire had burned down to embers, glowing like rubies in the darkness. I buttoned up, running a hand through my hair, and noticed the moon over the ocean.
It was full and round and seemed to be very close to the earth. I opened the patio door, then grabbed the throw from the couch against the cool breeze. Wrapped in soft cashmere, I let myself out into the night and stood in the quiet. The only sound was the ocean. I breathed in the salt air, letting out the tension that had come with the dreams.
Watching the moon and the sea, listening to the waves roll in and out, I thought about what had happened earlier—the absolutely indescribable feeling of him inside me. Just thinking about it brought a flush to my skin.
You had sex . . . and it was good.
That was an understatement.
I heard footsteps behind me, and I smiled as I felt his hands creep around my waist.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a stage whisper.
I shivered as he kissed my ear. “Just looking. Did I wake you?”
“Yes. I woke up because my hands were empty—you took away my favorite pillows.” He swept my hair back to nuzzle the nape of my neck.
“We had sex,” I blurted out, and I could literally feel him smiling.
“We sure did.” He chuckled.
I giggled, but when he kissed my neck, my hands came up behind me and tucked into his hair. I pushed back against him slightly and felt him press into me, his arousal evident.
I sighed as I felt his hands sneak under the throw, under his shirt, and up to my breasts. When he found them, I groaned, my nipples hardening immediately beneath his talented hands.
He turned me around to face him, and I saw that he was still naked.
“Aren’t you cold, Sweet Nuts?” I asked, wrapping my arms around him and sharing my blanket.
“No, actually, you have me quite warmed up,” he stated, taking my hand and guiding it lower, encouraging me to grab some Hamilton.
Oh, go on, you deserve another . . .
I really did.
I wrapped my hand around him, relishing the way he moaned instantly at my touch. I urged him back inside the cottage, moving him backward toward the couch. Once there, I pushed him down and removed the throw, propping one leg up on the couch as I stood before him. Then I unbuttoned my shirt and leaned closer to him.
“How about a little more slap and tickle?” I asked in a husky voice. He just grinned that damn sexy grin at me. It made me insane when he did that.
Finished with the shirt, I let it fall to the ground. I took his hands and placed them on my hips, my leg still propped up, opening me up to him. I let one of my own hands dip below, dragging through my own sex, moaning as I did so. His deep green eyes were heavily lidded as he watched me touch myself.
He licked his lips; he was dying to taste me. I let my hand come up and extended one finger to him, running it across his lips, letting him take it into his mouth, suck enthusiastically. He groaned and tightened his grip on my hips. I leaned closer to him, placing my mouth right next to his ear.
“Now that you’ve made love to me, which was unbelievable, I want you to fuck me,” I whispered, feeling him tense beneath me. “Hard.”
His tongue darted out and licked my neck . . . hard. He grabbed my hips, leaving handprints on my skin . . . hard. His right hand came up and pulled my hair, angling my neck so that he could nibble at me . . . hard. He took my right hand and put it on his cock again . . . hard.
“You feel that? That’s all you, Crazy,” he said, looking at me with fire in his eyes.
He even looked at me hard. This would be the polar opposite of what had happened earlier. This would be a straight-up, old-fashioned pounding.
I placed a knee on either side of him and his arms came up to encircle my waist. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I felt him pressing against me. This time, instead of taking him in slowly, I took him in hard.
We both cried out at the suddenness of it, and I marveled again at how well we fit together. I rose back up again, almost withdrawing all the way, and then slammed my hips back down.
“Oh fuck, that’s go
od,” I moaned, and he went crazy. He gripped my hips tightly, rocking me back and forth furiously on him, grinding into me as his mouth sucked my nipples.
I arched my back and pushed my breasts farther against him, riding him as I had wanted to for so long.
Nonsensical words were pouring forth from my mouth. I no longer had the power of coherent thought. He, however, was able to say the most deliciously nasty things.
“Fuck, Grace, you feel amazing . . . Christ, Grace, I love watching you ride me . . . God, your tits are brilliant.”
These were said in my ear as he pounded into me, moaning and groaning and speaking in that heavenly accent. The more into it he got, the thicker the accent got. The closer we both got, the faster and harder he fucked me. He was finally, blessedly, fucking me like it was his job.
I came hard, screaming his name loudly, and he grinned at me while I thrashed about on top of him, feeling his hard cock inside of me, stroking my J-spot over and over again.
He felt my multiples as deeply as I did, groaning each time another wave started, pumping into me firmly and holding on to my hips, anchoring me and moving me the way he knew I needed it.
I came back just long enough to say in his ear, in a sex-filled voice, “Jack, you fuck me so good.” And then he came. He came with a groaning bellow that shook me to my core and made me come again.
We were covered in sweet sweat as he pulled me down onto the couch with him, sighing, grinning, stroking, touching, rubbing, and caressing. We sank into the pillows with him still inside me.
“Jesus . . . ,” I said.
“. . . Christ,” he said, finishing for me, and we laughed.
We were quiet for a moment. Then I said, “Well, I did make you promise to make me see God this weekend.” I chuckled, sweeping his hair back from his forehead and kissing it lightly.
“And did I?” he had the nerve to ask.
“Yes—and all the saints,” I answered, grinning.
The next morning, I woke up early. It surprised me that Jack was already awake. I normally had to drag his ass up, using all manner of temptation to do so. I slipped back into his shirt again and padded out to the living room, where he was on his cell. When he saw me, he put up a finger.
“Right, then. Ten miles from here? Excellent. Right, see you then,” he said, hanging up the phone.
“Who was that?” I asked, walking over to him and snuggling into his arms for a hug.
“Just making plans for the shoot later today. You hungry?” he asked, hugging me to him. He had already showered and smelled like soapy goodness.
“I’m starved. Someone made me work up an appetite last night,” I purred, pressing closer into his embrace.
“Well then, let’s get you some breakfast.” He planted a kiss on my forehead, started pulling me toward the bathroom.
“Wait—I was thinking maybe we could order in. You know, a little room service.” I winked at him, and he smiled.
“Grace, don’t you think it would be nice to go out for breakfast?” He headed toward the bathroom again.
“Actually, no. I was thinking we could have a little breakfast in bed, if you know what I mean,” I said teasingly, reaching out to pull him closer to me.
He laughed but still held me at arm’s length. “I always know what you mean, Grace. Subtlety isn’t one of your gifts. But I need to square some things away for this shoot today, and this way we can spend part of the morning together.”
He patted me on the head like a child.
“Now, be a good girl and scoot. Off you go,” he replied, finally succeeding in pushing me into the bathroom and closing the door.
“Good girl, my foot. You sure wanted me to be a bad girl last night,” I muttered, wondering at this odd morning behavior.
“What was that, Nuts Girl?” he asked through the door.
“I said, good girl, my foot! You sure wanted me to be a bad girl last night!”
His response was silence . . . he really was in rare form this morning. I turned on the water, realizing this was the third solo shower in a row, and I missed my chief hair washer. Ah well, better get used to it.
As I stripped down, I heard a rustling. The little shit had shoved a note under the door. What, were we twelve?
I picked it up and read:
Grace,
You are my favorite girl, good or bad. But I must admit I’m leaning toward bad.
Johnny Bite-Down
I laughed, wetted my fingertip, traced the shape of my hand with my middle finger pointing up, and then shoved the wet note back under the door. Even over the water, I could hear him howling.
It was so easy to crack him up.
Fifty minutes and two blocked attempts at nooky later, Jack had me seated in the restaurant and was ordering us breakfast. He was looking fine, with about two days’ worth of insanely good stubble. We were both dressed casually. He was in jeans and a black T-shirt, while I went with my standard yoga pants and camisole. Since I didn’t know if I’d be going to the photo shoot today, I had a backup plan to go for a run on the beach.
We talked about silly things, inane things. The amazing hotel, whether or not to go out for dinner that night, whether we would have time to do some sightseeing tomorrow before we had to head back to L.A.
My flight to New York was on Tuesday at noon, and while I was excited, I still got a little lump in my throat every time I thought about it. Jack’s week was shaping up to be busy. He had three interviews on Monday and one scheduled for Tuesday.
We ate our pancakes and drank our juice, and he buttered my toast for me. I noticed at least one table that had figured out who he was, but he still showed as much affection for me as he did when we were in private. I found this both sweet and a little infuriating. It was as if he was determined to show Holly she was wrong about his fans, and I wasn’t crazy about being the sacrificial lamb.
When I was finished, I stretched my arms over my head and noticed he was done as well.
“You ready to go back to the cottage? We still have a little time left before you have to leave . . . we could have some sexy times,” I teased, running my fingers down his arm in a seductive way.
“Oh, Gracie, you’re killing me,” he said, reaching for me. “Last night, it was really great, you know?” he replied, bringing my hand up to his mouth, kissing my fingertips.
I heard a gasp from behind me, and I knew the girls who’d recognized him were either fainting or plotting my demise. I understood; I’d had the same feeling when I found out Alyssa Milano was dating Corey Haim.
I still harbored ill will toward her.
I tried to pull my hand away but he kept it tightly in his grip.
“Hey, you know what Holly said. We’re not acting very smart.” I smiled at him, trying to get him to understand.
“Bollocks. I say we do what we want and act how we want,” he said firmly, his brow furrowed.
“I agree that it’s bollocks—except that when these pictures come out, it’s me that’s going to have to deal with it. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet,” I answered.
“Grace, how do you feel about me?” he asked, staring into my eyes.
“What? What do you mean?” I replied nervously.
“It’s a simple question. How do you feel about me?” he asked again, reaching over and scooting my chair closer to him. The dragging of the chair across the tiles caused another table to look over, prompting another round of gasps.
Jesus.
“Jack, I—”
“Pardon me, but are you Jack Hamilton?” a timid voice asked.
I turned my head, grateful for the interruption, and saw a woman in her midtwenties.
As Jack began to talk to her a line began to form, and as I watched him chat with his fans, I could see his nervousness come out more and more. He was kind and sweet, and to the untrained eye, he seemed totally comfortable. But I saw how he tucked his legs closer to him, ran his hands through his hair. He made the funniest expressions with his f
ace; it was like he was one big eyebrow. He smiled at me occasionally, and while most of the girls kept their eyes on him the entire time I could feel their eyes on me, sizing me up, trying to figure us out.
Eventually it was just us again, and we started walking back to the cottage. We were holding hands when we both noticed some of the same girls hovering about fifty paces back, and I saw the camera phones coming out again. They’d taken plenty of pics of him in the restaurant, but shots of him holding my hand would be bad news.
I dropped his hand like a hot potato.
He grimaced but said, “For you, Grace, because I know you’ll take the brunt of it. If it were up to me, I’d have you up against that tree over there.” He pointed at a large Spanish oak.
“I know you would, George. I know.” I laughed.
We got ready, sadly with no time for boom-boom, and headed out to the photo shoot. He promised we’d have time for boom-boom later.
We held hands on the ride there, and we talked about dinner that night. In light of the morning’s outcome I firmly put my foot down when he asked if I’d like to go out for dinner again.
“Hell, no. We’re eating dinner in bed, naked, stopping only to screw,” I answered, bouncing on the seat in anticipation.
He laughed as we pulled into the estate where the photo shoot was taking place. “Well, after the shoot, I’m sure some of the cast will be going out for a drink. Can I at least get you drunk first?”
We had decided that I’d skip the shoot today and hook up with him later on in the evening.
“Sure—not that you’ll need that to take advantage of me. Now that I have had a little Hamiltonian Sex Machine, I don’t think I can do without it,” I said with a grin.
He parked the car near everyone else’s and then kissed me passionately, holding my face in his hands. “Gracie, my ego can’t take the thought of you saying little and sex machine in the same sentence as my name,” he said seriously.