to me as my body arched further, telling him exactly what it thought of this idea. What it thought of waiting any longer to further what had been building between us since we’d first met in that rose garden.
Because I couldn’t lie—and I didn’t think he would, either. We might be kidnapper and hostage, and he might have yanked me right out of my life—for which I should hate him—but neither of us could deny the chemistry we’d had right from the start.
Neither of us could deny that the chemistry had become a whole lot bigger last night, when we’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms as we figured out how we were going to get out of this mess. Neither of us could deny that we’d been wanting this right from the start—and that the wanting had gotten stronger with every mile we put between us and San Jose.
Suddenly he broke the kiss, as if he were sharing my thoughts, and stared down at me.
“Are you sure?” he gasped, breathless with his need.
I rocked my hips up against him, taking in the hard length of him pressed against my stomach, and groaned—but tried very hard to think of words I could use. Words that actually meant something. Words that would break through the haze of lust currently standing between me and the rest of the world.
“Positive,” I finally answered. “I think we’ve earned it.”
That seemed to be all he needed by way of encouragement. He grabbed both of my wrists and jerked them over my head, pinning them there with one hand as his other hand worked its way under the T-shirt I was wearing, his fingertips brushing against the skin of my stomach and sending it into butterflies.
A slow, soft movement and his hand had found the back of my bra, locating the latch and undoing it with a quick flick of his wrist. He moved his fingers to my left breast, slowly circling my nipple until I was bucking against him, begging him for more. When he grabbed my nipple and rolled it between his fingers, I moaned with need.
He quieted me with his lips, kissing me hard and forcing his tongue into my mouth, sliding his against mine while his hands went back work.
When he freed my hands a moment later, I shoved them between us and started working at the belt of his jeans, quickly undoing it and then moving to the button underneath. A couple seconds of struggle—while trying not to be sidetracked at what his lips and fingers were doing to me—and I had his jeans undone.
I reached down, my hand closing around his rock-hard length, and groaned deeply into his mouth.
“God, I wish we’d done this in your apartment like normal people,” I moaned. “I want to be able to see you.”
I heard his chuckle in the dim lighting, deep and sensuous and as dark as the shadows around us.
“You and me both,” he said, bending down to brush another soft kiss over my lips. “If we get out of this alive, I vote we try it again when we’re back in San Jose.”
“Deal,” I said.
Then, as if the reminder that our lives were actually at risk had been some sort of code, we both moved quickly to ditch our clothes, coming back together only when we were completely naked. Jack rolled onto me, using one of his legs to part my own, and brushed two fingers quickly across my center.
“God, woman,” he moaned.
Then he slid into me and I stopped thinking entirely, focusing only on clinging to him and how he was making me feel as he thrust into me again and again, silencing my cries with his mouth and holding my hands above my head, my wrists once again handcuffed—this time, by his own fingers.
Jack lay on his back with me on top of him, both of us still naked, both of us breathing heavily. I reached out to trail one finger down his chest, trying to get my brain to start working again. Trying to remember that there was something we had to be doing—and that it was a whole lot more important than laying here in a daze, having just had the best sex of my life.
Trying to remember that it wasn’t only my life on the line anymore, but Jack’s as well.
And that was what finally got me up and moving. Because Jack had risked his own life—and most certainly his paycheck—to save me. We couldn’t just