Home, she thought dizzily, until a practicality struck her. “Door key.”
“Got it in my hand,” he assured her.
She sighed, happy that he’d thought of everything. The house was undoubtedly empty by now, but Jeanette would have left lights on in the foyer and hall before heading off to her cottage with Graham. No problem for Jack to negotiate his way inside. He wasn’t even breathing heavily from carrying her. So strong…
She supposed Tim had passed on the news that she’d be coming home later with Jack. One of the guest suites would have been made ready for him. That was no problem, either. Except she wanted to keep holding on to him. Her nerves were humming with the pleasure of being this close.
The front door was opened and shut behind them.
Across the foyer.
Down the hall.
Sally’s heart drummed harder with each step Jack took towards her bedroom. The drowsy languor was gone. She was wide-awake and acutely aware of fast approaching the moment of parting, wantonly wishing it didn’t have to be so.
He opened her door.
Left it open.
She felt his muscles tense as he moved towards the bed, which was visible from the light in the hall. He was going to lay her down and leave. She knew it and inwardly screamed at his gentlemanly restraint.
Put her down and go, Jack savagely told himself. Sally was trusting him to do just that. He’d brought this raging desire upon himself, gratifying some caveman instinct by carrying her—his woman. It wasn’t her fault that the softness of her breasts against his chest was making his heart pound harder, that her breath against his throat was an almost unbearable tease. He wanted the heat of her mouth pressed to his skin, but she hadn’t done it. Any other woman he’d been with would have, showing her own desire for the sexual connection he craved. But Sally…
Just put her down and let her go to sleep on a happy day.
He forced himself to lean over and lay her gently on the bed. Her arms did not slide away. They remained locked around his neck. He looked down at her face, seductively framed by the spill of red-gold curls on the white pillow. Her eyes weren’t closed. They were wide-open, mutely appealing, striking straight at the heart of the desire he’d been trying to contain, rendering it impossible to resist.
It wasn’t a light kiss. It wasn’t a “sweet-dreams, good-night” kiss. His mouth fell upon hers with ravaging passion, the pent-up urges of many weeks driving him to take all she was willing to give. And her response was equally wild and fierce, hands raking through his hair, holding his head to hers as her mouth accepted and returned his plunder, deeply intimate, intensely exciting.
He wasn’t even conscious of moving onto the bed with her. He felt her body straining against his, the whole gorgeous length of her femininity seeking the feel of him. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging tightly. She hooked a leg over his. They kissed with a feverish madness that consumed any rational thought. There was only need answering need, revelling in the mutual hunger for each other.
“Clothes off,” he rasped as he broke from her mouth to draw breath, his hand already under her T-shirt, unclipping her bra.
“You, too,” she demanded, levering herself up, tearing at his shirt.
They dragged off everything, hurling each unwanted garment out of the way, the need to be free of any barriers between them driving a haste that allowed no sense of inhibitions. They came together again, skin against skin, soft flesh moulding itself to his hardness, generating more heat, more hunger.
His mind was awash in sensation. His body knew only intense urgency. She was ready for him, hot, moist, welcoming, and he plunged inside her, revelling in feeling her convulse around him. He kissed her again, his tongue driving deeply into her mouth. Hers pushed into his, passionately repeating his invasion. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her body lifting, arching, wanting him to pump himself into her.
He was completely out of control, his heart thundering with the rhythm of their bodies thrusting for the ultimate peak of pleasure, exulting in the excitement as they raced towards it. He felt her tension break into quivering, heard her cry out, and his own explosive release gushed from him in violent spasms, and a deep, guttural cry burst from his throat.
He held her to him with a fierce possessiveness, and they lay together, still intimately joined, their legs entwined, slowly getting their breath back, pulse rates calming down, luxuriating in the sense of intense togetherness. Her head was tucked under his chin. His fingers savoured the silk of her hair. He smelled it, kissed it, tasted it, loved it. Her skin was like silk, too. He felt intoxicated by the glorious sensuality of her lovely curvy body. Another time he would kiss her all over, but right now he just wanted to hold her.
She fell asleep on him.
He didn’t mind.
It showed she wasn’t worried about what they’d done.
Or was happy about the possibility of getting pregnant.
A wave of cold sanity washed through him.
He’d lost his head in a blaze of lust.
He hadn’t used protection.
CHAPTER NINE
SALLY awoke to the steadily insistent buzz of the telephone. The memory of last night with Jack crashed straight into her mind with the consciousness of being naked. Her head whipped around on the pillow to check if he was still with her. No. The telephone kept demanding her attention. She grabbed for the receiver on the bedside table and was shocked to see her alarm clock read 9:07. She’d slept almost ten hours!
“Sally Maguire,” she said sharply, realizing that Jeanette would be in the kitchen by now and had put the call through to her room.
“It’s Jack.”
The sound of his voice sent a thrill through her. She smiled and lay back down, her free hand automatically stroking down her stomach, recalling the intense pleasure he’d given her, the incredible sensations. “I just woke up.”
“So did I.”
“Where are you?”
“In my Sydney apartment.”
“Why didn’t you stay?”
“I have an appointment for lunch today.”
“Oh!” His life in the city…she tried to swallow her disappointment but it probably crept into her voice. “It was so wonderful…”
“I take it you’re not sorry it happened.”
“No.” Impossible to be sorry. Hadn’t she secretly wanted him all along?
“I didn’t plan to finish off the night like that, Sally.”
It was a statement of fact and she believed him, remembering how she had hung on to him, virtually inviting what had followed.