There was a small sense of disorientation as she placed her cell on the end table and walked into the bathroom, not hurrying, but not dawdling, either. After getting home she’d stripped off her business suit, removed her makeup and washed her face, then taken a quick shower and put on her comfortable thin white pajamas—a simple tank and loose-fitting pants. She’d taken her hair down and thoroughly brushed it, the strokes of the brush easing the last bit of tension from her scalp. Her scintillating plan for the evening had been to relax in front of the television for an hour or so, watch something easy like House Hunters or maybe the Food Network, then lights out. Tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.

Now … this. Eric was coming over. For a moment she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, wondering if she should slap on some makeup again, maybe spritz on a little perfume, put on some clothes. It didn’t take her long to decide. No, this was her, fresh-faced and unadorned, her shoulder-length black hair hanging loose. She glanced down at her bare feet, glad she’d recently had a pedicure. Her toenails were a bright red, the only splash of color on her body tonight.

As for putting on clothes … who was she kidding?

She did brush her teeth, before returning to the living room to wait for him. Should she put on a pot of decaf? No. That would be just as ridiculous as rushing around to put her clothes and makeup back on. Eric Wilder wasn’t coming here for coffee and more conversation. He was coming for sex, because he wanted her and she wanted him. They were adults, they both knew what this was about, and there was no reason for her to play games.

Her toes curled in anticipation.

When the doorbell rang she didn’t jump, not exactly. Her heart jumped; something deep and low within her jumped. She took a deep breath, walked to the door, and, just as a precaution, she glanced through the peephole to make sure it was him before opening the door wide.

They stood there facing each other almost like adversaries, gunslingers standing in the street, each waiting for the other to make a move. Eric had loosened his tie, but nothing else had changed in the short time since she’d seen him last. Because she was barefoot now, he was a lot taller. Well, to be accurate she was shorter, but the end result was the same. He towered over her a good seven or eight inches.

He looked her over, blatantly, without an ounce of discretion or subtlety or pretense, just the way he’d looked at her ring finger. His gaze traveled up and down, then slowly back up again, taking his time, lingering on the places of most interest to him. Jaclyn took a deep breath, then backed away from the door, stepping out of his way, inviting him inside. He strode forward two steps, into the room and closer to her, and then he closed and locked the door behind him.

His eyes were slightly hooded, his gaze pinned on her—her face, at the moment, which was good form on his part because she knew damn well her erect nipples were evident against the thin fabric of the white tank. Then again, he’d already seen all he could see while her clothes were on. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said.

Ditto. “Good … I think.” She didn’t know anything for certain, except she felt as if her skin might blister at any moment from the heat building inside her. Everything else was moving both too slow and too fast, events jumbling and bumping against each other even while time crawled.

He looked her up and down again; his gaze lingered on her toes for a moment. “Good God, I could eat you up.”

Butterflies fluttered in Jaclyn’s stomach. It had been years since she’d been nervous or anxious enough to suffer from butterflies, years since she’d simply let go and felt. “So what’s stopping you?”

“Nothing, thank God,” he said roughly, catching her wrists and sliding his palms up her forearms, then cupped her elbows and pulled her forward until her progress was stopped only by his muscled body, the thin fabric of her pajamas doing nothing to cushion the impact or protect her from his heat. As naturally as if they had been together forever, his hands moved from her elbows to her back, down to her bottom, gripping and urging her hips forward until she was nestled against the hard length of his erection.

She drew a deep, shaking breath, savoring the feel of him, then tipped her face back and went up on her toes, meeting him as he lowered his head. As first kisses went, this one was like lightning, bright and hot and explosive. Maybe it was because they both knew where this was heading, knew there was no holding back. The kiss was deep and hungry, tongues tangling, one big hand in her hair, her fingers clasping the back of his strong neck. He bent his knees, wrapped one arm around her butt and the other around her back, and lifted her so her feet came off the ground and her head was more level with his. Automatically her legs parted, coiled around him, and he made a rough sound deep in his throat as his penis pushed hard against the softness between her legs.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, the words so low and rough-edged they were almost a growl. His hand slid down her spine, thrust inside the loose waistband of her cotton pajama pants, stroked over her butt.

“Back there,” she said, freeing one hand to indicate where “back there” was. He turned and began striding in that direction even as his rough fingers delved lower, probing, and she gasped the last word. Oh, God. What was he—Oh, God! Her legs tightened around him and she instinctively lifted herself a little, though whether she was trying to escape or giving him easier access, she couldn’t have said. Her breasts rubbed against his shirt, turning her nipples into aching points. What he was doing set off explosions all along her nerve pathways, making her squirm and arch and whimper, and they weren’t even on the bed yet.

He maneuvered her through the doorway into the bedroom and put one knee on the bed, then took her down to the mattress with her still locked around him, his heavy weight crushing her. She’d left on a lamp, preparatory to going to bed; the mellow light washed over them as she pulled at his shirt; he peeled her tank off over her head, then went for her pants. While he stripped them down her legs his mouth closed hungrily over one nipple, sucking strongly, his tongue rasping around and around the puckered point until she almost couldn’t bear it. She made a raw, wordless sound and her back arched, her hands leaving his garments to clasp each side of his head. The hot smell of his skin surrounded her as surely as his touch did, dragging her down beneath the rising tide of sheer need.

He fought his way out of his clothes and they were both, finally, naked. She felt as if she’d been waiting forever, as if the feel of his hot bare skin against her was something she’d been craving to the edge of madness. Panting, she clung to him, her hips lifting, searching for the inward thrust that would bring them together.

“Fuck!”

With that one explosive word, Eric moved away from her, damn him, and just as she was about to grab his ass and pull him back, she realized that he was reaching for his pants, delving in his pocket and pulling out a few condoms. He tossed a couple of them on the bedside table and tore open the one in his hand. Thank God, she thought weakly, horrified that the basic safety measure hadn’t even occurred to her. At least one of them had a few working brain cells left; she wished she’d been the one, but she was grateful nevertheless. Even though she was on the Pill, a condom was a requirement.

He pulled her into position under him, spread her legs, braced himself on one arm, and with his other hand guided his penis to her. At last, at last. She was wet, ready, so close to the edge she thought she might come without him even making it inside her, if he didn’t hurry. With one quick short push he had the head in, and she gasped as she discovered maybe she wasn’t quite as ready as she’d thought.

It had been a while for her, so long that she couldn’t immediately think of the last time; maybe that was why the discomfort was so sharp, why for a moment she wavered on the very edge of pushing him away. But need outweighed any other consideration, a need that had her clinging to him even though a whimper of distress almost escaped. She bit it back, and dug her nails into his shoulder muscles as he pushed deeper, his movements slow now, easing him deeper inside. His penis was hot and thick, so thick her flesh quivered around him. She blew out a breath, tried to relax. When he was seated to the hilt he let his weight down on her and framed her head with both hands, his fingers threaded through her hair. “Okay?” His voice was low, the word a breath across her lips.

“Give me a minute,” she murmured, turning her head to find his lips again. How could something feel so wonderful and so … upsetting at the same time? She felt as if her flesh was under so much stress she might fly apart, but she didn’t want him to stop.

He gave her the minute she’d asked for, and more. He kissed her, seducing her even though he was already inside her, courting her with his mouth and stroking hands, enticing her until her inner muscles eased and began to clasp his rigid length, until her breath came in rhythmic gasps and her hips began to move. “Now,” she said in a choked tone, clinging to him and closing her mind to everything else except him.

For tonight, for now, there was nothing else, just the man and the night, and that was all she needed.


Chapter Four

JACLYN SLIPPED OUT OF BED AT FIVE O’CLOCK THE NEXT morning and, bemused, stood there listening to the slight snoring sound Eric was making: not really a snore, but more than just breathing. It sounded almost like a soft growl rumbling, barely audible, in his throat: a subconscious warning to any nearby predators maybe?