Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,53

half-light. The lighthearted playfulness seeped out of the room, replaced by an electricity that seemed to crackle between them.

“What kind of game are you playing, Tessa?” he whispered hoarsely, moving slowly toward her.

Tessa’s heart thundered, and she licked her lips nervously. “I’m not—”

“Like hell.” He stopped mere inches in front of her. “Here we are alone, and you come down to tell me something stupid like we’re out of hot water—”

“We are!”

“For God’s sake, you could have worn something more than this!” He flipped two fingers under the lapel of her wrapper, his skin grazing hers. She sucked in her breath. The fun-loving light in his eyes had fled, but his hands didn’t move. The seductive warmth of his fingertips pressed lightly against her skin. “Don’t you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he rasped.

“Probably about the same as you’re doing to me.”

His fingers wound around her lapel. “Don’t tease me, Tessa,” he repeated.

“I’m not,” she vowed.

His hand slid along the lapel, between her breasts to rest at the belt cinched around her waist. She melted inside. Liquid heat swirled deep at her center as his fingers rested feather light against her abdomen. “You want me?” he asked.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against him. “Yes.”

A muscle throbbed in his forehead, but his fingers worked against the knot.

“I—I—only wish I didn’t,” she admitted as the robe parted. His gaze wandered recklessly down the gap.

“Why?” His hand caressed her abdomen.

“Because it complicates things—ooh!”

He slid his hand around her waist, pulling her against him as he lowered his head and his lips slanted over hers. His tongue slid easily between her teeth, touching lightly, exploring and plundering sweetly as she wound her arms around his neck.

“Sometimes the best things in life are complicated,” he whispered, his breath as ragged as her own as he pushed against her. Tessa lost her balance and together they tumbled onto the bed. “Oh, Tessa,” he murmured, kissing her lightly from her forehead to her lips, “why couldn’t I forget you? Why the hell couldn’t I forget you?”

Tears of happiness filled her eyes. “I—I don’t know,” she murmured.

His hands tangled in her hair and his lips brushed slowly against her throat, softly stroking her sensitive skin. Aching inside, she quivered beneath him as he pushed the robe from her shoulders and stared for a minute at her breasts, straining upward, inviting him with their rosy-crested peaks.

He stroked one gently. It puckered, and he groaned, moving his hand in sensual circles, staring down at her in fascination.

“Touch me,” he whispered, shaping her mouth with his again.

She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and quickly shoved the soft cotton down his arms to bunch at his wrists. He flung the unwanted garment across the room and lay over her, his bare chest rigid.

Swallowing against a desert-dry throat, she reached upward. Her fingers moved gently along the length of his ribs, tracing a path so slowly through his swirling black hair that he groaned and closed his eyes.

She hesitated at the waistband of his jeans, and he pulled her to him, slashing his mouth over hers, his hands splaying against her bare back as she fumbled with the zipper. Once the zipper was down, he kicked off his jeans and, naked at last, rubbed gently against her. He kissed her face, her cheeks, her throat, moving slowly downward, his lips teasing as he played with her nipple.

Her blood pumped furiously in her veins, and she writhed against him as he took one breast into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.

Heat roiled deep inside her. She kissed his shoulders and chest, tasted the salt from the sheen of perspiration coating his body. He kissed her again and again, whispering her name as his tongue touched and stroked.

I love you, she thought, aching with want.

He groaned and moved over her. “Is it safe?” he whispered into her ear.

“S-safe?” she murmured, not understanding.

“You know—safe.” He took in a deep shuddering breath and levered himself up on one elbow. “Protected?”

“Protected?” she rasped. “As in against pregnancy?”

A muscle throbbed near his temple.

Tears filled her eyes. Hot little drops of shame. How could he think she’d been with other men? “There’s never been anyone but you.”

“No one?” His blue eyes stared down at her in disbelief.

Dying inside, crumbling apart bit by bit, she choked out, “And especially not John.” Mortified, she tried to roll away from him, but he pressed her firmly back onto the mattress. His hands clamped over her wrists, holding