For a wild moment, Morgan thought he would pull away. Tease her, enflame her with what might be. Instead, he grasped the sides of her face and kept her gaze locked to his dark one.
“The memory of you in my arms…it’s been keeping me hard all night. Watching you sleep was torture. I kept thinking about lying next to you on the bed, peeling your clothes away and devouring everything underneath. I want to get my hands on you, cher. My mouth on you. Get inside you, drive deep and sure. I want you to scream my name when you come.”
Morgan couldn’t breathe. The impact of every word did more than rev up her libido; they struck her like body blows, every syllable battering her resolve with hot intent. He robbed her of air, of the will to resist. How would he feel? Taste? That terrible vise of desire clamped her clit with need. She hardly contained her whimper with the need to come again. And he’d barely touched her.
What if she gave him free rein? What would it be like to let go and give herself to someone with his mastery, just this once?
She exhaled on a ragged sigh. Arousal flared like a forest fire under a harsh wind, burning her from the inside out. About to rage out of control.
Moisture threatened to trickle down her legs. She licked her dry lips, but when his gaze followed the motion, it only made her temperature spike hotter.
“You going to put that pretty pink tongue on me, cher? While I watched you sleep, I pictured you on your knees, my c**k in your luscious little mouth.”
Morgan knew next to nothing about o**l s*x from personal experience. Reading and talking about it to prepare for her show didn’t make up for that fact. At this moment, with a mountain of man like Jack in front of her, pressed against her, that seemed irrelevant. Jack inspired an urge to sample everything wicked, including his cock.
“Ah, I think you like the idea,” he murmured, breath caressing her tingling lips. “Those blue eyes are turning darker. I wonder what else you like? I know you enjoy this…”
As he’d done before, Jack stroked her ni**les through her towel, now painfully hard, with brushes of knuckles and fingertips. She gasped and couldn’t stop herself from arching toward him and seeking an end to the erotic torment of his touch.
“Sensitive ni**les. I’ll enjoy sucking them until I can feel them swell on my tongue.”
Would he? The suggestion made her faint with pleasure.
“Don’t presume. I didn’t say yes,” she pointed out, trying to hang onto sanity. But the croak in her voice made her protest a joke.
No, no, no! Jack might be thrilling her beyond belief— beyond bearing—but tomorrow…how messed up would her head and her life be tomorrow if she gave in now? Wasn’t having a stalker enough? She’d agreed to meet him to facilitate an interview for Turn Me On, not to find a dominant looking for a plaything.
“Your body is saying it for you, cher. Breath chugging. Jackhammer pulse jumping. Your ni**les are as hard as diamonds.” Suddenly, he found the fold in her towel down her abdomen again, parted the halves of terrycloth and planted his hot palm on her skin. He was so warm, it startled her. Stung. She jumped…closer to him. Now their chests brushed. His mouth was only a whisper away from hers as he dragged that hand over her hip, across her belly—then started heading down.
“You going to say no, cher?”
Morgan hesitated. If she was smart, she’d scream “no” now. She’d jerk away from him, march back to that claw-footed tub of his, fill it up with cold water and dive in. But his fingertips whispered swirls and circles across her belly, over her thighs, brushing over her mound just enough to entice.
She clenched her thighs together but it only magnified the ache. It climbed up into her belly, spread down her thighs. The fact that she wore nothing but a tiny green bath towel did not comfort her.
“Or are you going to say yes?” he whispered. “Are you going to let me fill you with my fingers and tongue? Are you going to let my c**k ride you hard and deep?”
God, more of his wicked words that gave her lascivious ideas—and irresistible pictures to go along with them.
Morgan threw her head back against the door and closed her eyes. She wanted to say yes, yearned as she never had for the forbidden pleasure she knew Jack could give her.
Once. Just once, whispered a voice in her head. What could it hurt?
Soon, with any luck, this business with her stalker would be behind her, she’d be back in L.A. taping the next season of Turn Me On. Jack Cole would be a hot memory she could drag out on a cold night and remember when she needed to warm herself. That simple.
“Jack…”
“You want something?” His voice taunted her as his fingers glided like a ghost over her abdomen, her hip. Those dancing dark eyes, that playful mouth teased her without mercy.
She and her resistance were toast.
In answer to his question, she grabbed his hand and placed it right over her mound. He swiped a hot finger through the swollen folds and swirled around her clit once, twice. She gasped, assailed by an urge to spread her legs wider for him.
“If you want something, cher, drop the towel. I want all of you and I want you bare.”
Morgan refused to stop and think, to reconsider again. Plenty of time for that later. Instead, she tugged at the towel. It fell to the floor in a quiet rush, leaving her covered in goose bumps— and nothing else. She shivered—but not from the cold.
Jack looked his fill with hot eyes that promised mindshattering pleasure. “I can’t wait to get inside you, so deep you’ll never forget it.”