“Now, damn I can’t wait anymore.” Jack bit at the curve of her breast. Gillian felt a flash of discomfort at the niggling doubt. Unlike the other bombshells he’d been with, she was pretty much a carpenter’s dream. Her small breasts were nothing impressive, probably disappointing to touch and look at. She scrambled for her shirt and tugged on it, her ardor cooling as she struggled to get it back together and cover her breasts.
A not so gentle nip along the top of one breast drew a pained moan and her gaze to Jack’s face. He shook his head, his hands capturing hers before tugging the shirt back, lifting her with the strength in his hands and the fabric to push the shirt down to her elbows. “Not tonight, Gilli, tonight is about us.” He pressed a kiss to her jaw, her cheek, nose, and finally her lips. “I want to see all of you.”
“But, but they’re not…” Gillian swallowed the remainder of her words when he kissed her. His tongue darted into her mouth, tangling with hers until her mind swam. His fingers teased her inner thighs, running up and down the flesh, further distracting her. The sensation overload was rapidly swelling to unbearable proportions.
Threading his fingers with hers, Jack pushed her hands up by her head as he leaned forward, his gaze locked on hers. Gillian felt a thrill race up her body as his hot torso pressed hers deeper into the couch. With a whimper of pleasure at the brush of his cock against her pussy, she arched into his movements.
The warm ghost of his breath against her skin plucked the threads of her desire. Opening her mouth slightly, she breathed him in. Her tongue darted out to taste him as she felt him slide into her. The lazy glide of his hard cock stretched her, every ridge and vein pulsing within her. He rolled his hips, the last bit going in until she could feel the springy hairs of his groin against her, the slow grind teasing her clit until it ached.
“Now.” Guttural, the demand shattered the calm. Gillian cried out as he grabbed her thighs, lifting them together and putting her ankles on one shoulder as he thrust hard, fast, and deep into her. Each plunge pressed against her, teased her until she felt her body spin out of control.
From a distance, she felt Jack’s body shudder, his thrusts get rougher, until he buried himself as deep as he could, his breathing ragged in her ear. She wrapped her arm around his as she rode the waves of her orgasm, heightened by the knowledge Jack had come from fucking her.
Chapter 20
Pale strips of light lay across the floor of Gillian’s utilitarian bedroom. Curled around her sleeping form, Jack stared out the window, his body pleasantly exhausted, his mind a tangled mess. Beside him, Gillian snuffled in her sleep, burrowing deeper into the warmth of her pillow. Her bare shoulder rose and fell with each breath. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the exposed skin, his body stirring.
Ignoring the building desire, he tucked the blankets tighter around them and snuggled down. There was something so fundamentally right about lying next to her, but the scars ran deep. She’d tensed when he’d pressed a kiss to her hip above her scars, and he wondered if she’d ever told anyone how she’d gotten them. He traced over the ones curling upward, toward her shoulders.
He sat up, frowning at the incessant beeping of a phone. He eased from the bed to pad to the kitchen and looked around. Gilli’s cell lay on the table by the door, next to her keys. His bare feet slapped across the hardwood floor as he hurried over to turn it off before it could wake her up.
The phone stopped just as he reached for it. Who was phoning at—he squinted at the clock on the stove—three in the morning? He flipped it open and stared at the long list of missed calls. All were one number and within minutes of each other. Someone obviously had nothing better to do. He went to close the phone when it flashed again.
“Incoming text? Who the hell texts someone this late?” Irritated, he shuffled through the text messages. “You stood me up, Gillian Rebecca. I will deal with you tomorrow.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah, whatever, bitch.” Jack debated deleting it before he shut the phone off and headed back to bed.
He curled around Gillian and closed his eyes. How Gillian still managed to be so warm and caring when her mother was a bitch he wasn’t sure. Still, come morning he’d ask Gillian if there was some reason for her mother’s indifference and rotten attitude. He tucked her tight against him, resting one hand on her hip, the other under her neck, and closed his eyes. She was his.
* * * *
Gillian groaned into her pillow at the pounding on the door. She pried one eye open and swore softly. Who would be stopping by at some ungodly hour in the morning? With a sickening lurch, she knew. Curling tighter into herself, she lay in bed, her mind racing with a way to get out of dealing with her mother.
“Gillian, I know you’re home. Your car is parked out front.” Barbara’s furious voice reached through the silence of the house.
“Yeah, and you’re pissed,” Gillian ground out through clenched teeth. Tossing the covers back, she wiggled toward the edge of the bed, only to freeze at the slow curl of a heavy arm around her waist.
Apprehensive, she glanced behind to see Jack, hair tousled, eyes barely open. “Morning, baby.” Jack yawned, his grip tightening. “Who the hell is hollering like a wounded banshee?”
“My mother.” Gillian focused on finding her clothes. “And if I don’t go out there, she’ll come in here.”
“Let her. You’re a grown woman.”
“I’d rather not.” Gillian patted his arm and rose. She donned a robe
