By the time her trembling fingers ended their exploration, those carefully banked embers were a roaring fire in her ears, and heat, not blood, pumped through her veins.
She moaned in his hot mouth. Just once. And Jameson took over.
One hand turned into a gentle bracelet around her wrist as he married her wrists together over her head. Holding her taut and still, he kissed his way over her lips and cheeks. Which wasn’t very fair. He’d showered and changed and smelled delicious, but she’d only washed her hands before fixing omelets. For sure, her hair smelled of smoke and sweat, her underwear, too.
Yet with every heated breath over her skin, and with each sweet, tender kiss, he turned her from lowly wait staff into a princess. Maybe even a queen.
Silly, foolish tears stung her eyes when his free hand pulled her borrowed TEAM shirt out of her pants and began a slow exploration of her bare tummy. The tips of his fingers moved up her centerline to her breasts. The difference between this sleek, sure champion and the imposter at his fingertips grew too much. She was drowning in so many sweet, lovely sensations she’d never known before. This whole thing was a mistake.
Yet just as she was about to beg him to stop, Jameson breathed into her neck, “You have a habit of holding your breath when you’re tense, did you know that?”
Her head bobbed even as tears spilled over.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
“No. Of what I want you to do to me. With me.” Even with her eyes closed she could feel him smile. “Don’t laugh,” she murmured, afraid to look at the man she knew couldn’t see her. Yet Jameson had a way of seeing so much more than the sharpest TEAM operator.
The warm, wet heat from his lips moved up her neck to the curl of her ear where he whispered, “Let’s take this party to my bed, so you can relax. I’d never hurt you. I hope you know that, babe.”
There was that pretty word again. Babe. Maybe other guys meant it to objectify their women, but when Jameson said it, she felt protected and special. “I do.”
“Whenever you want me to stop, tell me, Mad Dog. You’re my best partner yet. We’re in this together. Let’s turn that frowny face upside down.”
Okay, that made her smile. Mad Dog? How could she not grin at the ridiculous handle Adam had given her? Frowny face? Really?
“I’ve just...” She gulped, not sure what she needed to say next. She wasn’t a virgin. Nash had fumbled that first in the dirty back room of a cheap bar one night. But this thing with Jameson…? He could hurt her worse than Nash or her dad ever had. Because, somehow over these last hours, he’d crawled under her skin and embedded himself in her heart. She was such a sucker for nice guys, and that’s precisely who he was.
Without waiting for her to finish her thought, Jameson let Maddie’s wrists loose at the same time he slipped one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders. “I know what you need,” he said very quietly as he lifted her against him.
“What’s that?” She tried to sound tougher than she was, but his body was warm and seductive. So big and so much broader than hers. He was a door. She was just a shadow behind that door.
“A good night’s sleep. You’re a morning person. I can tell.”
“What I need is a shower,” blurted out of her. She hooked one arm over his neck. But when he flinched, she cringed at her mistake. “Oh, no, I forgot. Your neck is burned. Let me see.”
“I forgot you have mad doctor skills,” he teased. “Shower, here we come.”
“I shouldn’t have told Alex you have mad ninja skills, huh?” She laid her cheek on his shoulder and rubbed her nose into his neck. Whatever he’d splashed on after he’d shaved, it was her new favorite scent.
He shrugged as he angled her through the bathroom door. “I’m pretty sure he’s already heard that. As long as we’re both a little crazy at something, I’m good. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the ladybug.”
“It’s supposed to be fly.”
“But you’re not a fly, are you? Flies swarm by the millions on dead animals and smelly stuff like manure. But ladybugs are bright and rare and precious. They protect things, like roses from aphids.” He’d set her on the bathroom counter and under the light by then. His fingers were splayed on the sides of her head, the rough pads of his thumbs smoothing over her cheekbones. “You’re precious and rare, Maddie, but I get the distinct impression no one’s ever told you that before.”
Jameson struck her stupid and mute. She was peering up at him. He was looking down at her, his gaze dark and not seeing, yet seeing inside of her nonetheless. Of course, no one had ever said something so sweet before. Dad wanted a slave and a son; Nash, a gofer.
“Your eyes are beautiful. They’re brown, like coffee,” she murmured, thrilled she could finally see that startling clear color up close. Brown, but nonresponsive to light. His black pupils didn’t dilate. Didn’t matter. She smoothed her palm, lovingly cupping his jaw, staring into that void. Sure that he knew she was looking at him. Into his soul. Somehow, Jameson had turned what others might’ve perceived as a debilitating handicap, into
