they needed to order in supplies.
“We’re good together. You know we are, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I am the best man for you, or I wouldn’t be laying myself out here like this.” And that was the God’s truth.
“I don’t know, Jack, it’s been—”
He silenced her with a kiss, sliding his free hand around the back of her neck and lowering his mouth to hers, bending her into him—and at the first taste, he knew he should have done this years ago.
She melted against him, rising up on her toes, her arms coming around his neck, her body pressing up against his, every luscious curve. He slid his hand up under her shirt and held her close, kissing her wildly, and when she did the same, slipped her hands up under his shirt, instant need became his driving force, replacing every other thought in his body.
He wanted her. He loved her. And he needed her to be his, wholly and completely, on the bed with him inside her.
One of her hands went to the waistband of his pants, and just the thought of her touching him made him hard.
“Scout,” he whispered her name and undid his pants, asking her to please, please, please …
And she did, sliding her hand into his pants and stroking his cock—and the clothes started coming off.
“I need you, Jack,” she said between hot kisses. Pants hit the floor, shirts went flying, shoes disappeared, underwear melted away, and he scooped her up in his arms, both of them naked, and her so beautiful, she took his breath away.
Laying her on the bed, he came down on top of her, and he kissed her and teased her, rubbing himself against her, until she was moving beneath him.
“God, Scout, you’re so beautiful, so damned beautiful.” He kissed her breasts and cupped them in his hands, and he slid down her body to tease her with his mouth.
This was Scout, his love, his lover, and everything about her excited him: the taste and softness of her, the way she responded to every lick of his tongue. It was going to take days, weeks, years to get enough of her, if he ever could.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God … Jack.
Scout was melting from the inside out. She’d imagined making love with Black Jack Traeger hundreds of times, if not thousands—but nothing in her imagination had prepared her for Jack in love and in her bed.
Jack loved her—it was all she needed. He loved her, and he was giving her pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known. Forever, he’d said, and oh, God, she believed him. She’d wanted him forever—and the more he aroused her, the more she never wanted him to stop, not ever, not when he felt so amazingly good, not until he took her straight over the edge.
“Jack …” His name sighed out of her on a groan of pleasure more intense than anything she’d ever known. “Oh, Jack … Jack.”
When she’d gone limp beneath him, he came up her body and fitted himself to her—and she was so ready for him to thrust inside, to fill her up. He was hot, and hard, and heavy, and he held her so strongly, giving her even more pleasure. He was a big man, every inch of him solid muscle, and when his release came, she felt every last pulsing thrust, her body alive and in tune with his.
He didn’t withdraw for a long time, just held her there, keeping her close in his arms, breathing softly against the side of her face.
“That was crazy,” he finally said.
“Yeah.” It sure had been, sweetly intense, wildly out of control.
“Crazy wonderful.”
“Yeah.” She’d go there with him. It had been wonderful.
“We should do it again.”
A smile curved her mouth. Now, that was the Jack she knew.
“Yeah,” she said, sliding her hand up to cup his face. “We should do it again.”
He looked down at her and grinned—and they did it again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Dylan Hart had a well-earned and well-deserved reputation for coolness under pressure. He owned the words “cold bastard.” He was the iceman, his emotions always tempered by reason. Always.
Except for tonight.
With the terrifying abduction of Jane, and faced with the crimes committed by the man Kid and Zach had hauled down into Steele Street’s basement, he was struggling inside, in a fierce conflict with himself. Under other circumstances, he would have gone to Skeeter to talk things through. The kick-ass blond bombshell was his mate, his sounding