Control? Hell, he’d lost that about the minute Jamie had collided with him on the train. He had the control of a three-year-old faced with a table full of candy and no parental supervision. None. Not a single freaking bit.
“Am I being too rough? I’m sorry. It’s just…been a while. I’ll slow down.”
Jamie’s hand reached up, cupped his cheek, stroked over his flesh. A nervous smile played over her lips, cherry red from his kisses. “I don’t want you to slow down. It makes me feel sexy.”
Her cheeks stained pink.
“You are sexy,” he said, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. “The sexiest woman I’ve ever met.” He pointed to his mouth. “I’m drooling right now as we speak.”
She laughed, but avoided his eyes, her fingers playing with a button in the middle of his shirt. “Men usually tend to, well, see me as nurturing. Not sexy.”
Maternal images did not flood his brain when he looked at Jamie. The exact opposite in fact. “Not this man.” There was no need to force conviction into his voice. It was ringing with it.
Forcing himself to abandon her breasts, he gathered her to him in a reassuring embrace. Okay, so his hands wandered a little and wound up on her ass, squeezing and stroking. He was lost to all decency at this point.
“Tell me what you like, Jamie,” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me what you want so I can do it over and over again.”
She shivered in his arms, her breath coming in quick, staccato bursts. When she answered, it was a small, throaty whisper. “I want to feel desirable. I want it raw.”
Holy crap. Jack about bit his tongue off. Blood rushed past his ears. When he managed to speak, his tongue was thick, words hoarse. “Raw, I can do.”
It was a dangerous place to go, but she had nicked the last thread of his resistance. He wanted raw, too. He wanted to dive into hard, numbing pleasure and take Jamie with him. Fast and furious, slick and slap.
So he reached forward, twisted his fingers into her neckline and ripped the front of her tank top, right through that damn flower that had been taunting him all night.
Maybe it wasn’t smart to give Jack permission to do what he wanted with her.
He already had her ruined shirt and unhooked bra on the floor. Another two seconds and he’d probably have her dangling on a chandelier. His mouth hovered over her nipple.
Not that she cared much at the moment.
“I love your breasts,” he murmured against her flesh. “I’ve wanted my mouth on them since the first second I saw you.”
Jamie swallowed hard. Every inch of her was hot, itchy, aching to be touched. She was still reeling from her confession and wasn’t sure how to react. Since men had never really gone wild for her, she wasn’t sure how to do wild in return.
Not that he was giving her time to do much more than moan.
His lips brushed back and forth over her nipple in a maddening tease. Then he brought his teeth down on her, lightly, but enough to make her jump. And dang if it didn’t turn her on. Liquid pooled between her legs, and a shiver rolled through her body in a delicious wave of excitement.
Jack hovered over her other breast, and Jamie felt his breath tease over her flesh, felt her nipple pucker under his scrutiny, felt herself edge closer to him. There was a slight pause of hovering anticipation, then he sort of attacked her, sucking and licking, nipping and pulling while Jamie’s breasts tingled and ached.
“Oh, mercy,” she whispered, groping blindly for the wall, furniture, anything that could hold her up because her legs were doing the noodle number again.
“No. No mercy,” he said, voice hoarse. And as if to prove his point, his finger slid along the seam of her jeans, pressing into her tender flesh, working front to back, front to back, while he pursed his lips and blew a hot stream over her wet nipples.
Well, she’d asked for it. She’d always wondered what it would be like to have a man go at her like a shark with bait, like he had to have her now, damn it, and nothing could stop him. She had never drawn that kind of lust from men—they’d always treated her gently, protectively, which was all fine and good for the most part. She wanted men to respect her, but it would be nice to know she made a man lose all control once in a while.
This was losing control.
Her eyelids sank closed, her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she enjoyed the scrape and slide of Jack’s fingers over her body, wishing her jeans would suddenly evaporate. Skin tingling, nipples taut and aching, Jamie felt each lick and stroke over every inch of her body. Her head swam, lust and lack of sleep making her dizzy.
Jack’s mouth lifted from her breast. “We need to get to a bed. Now.”
She nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see her since he was back to doing a little lick-suck thing with his tongue over her nipple. “Yes. Okay. Now. Definitely. Ooh, yes, that feels good.”
He stopped, damn it. Standing, he wiped his hand over his shiny lips and said, “Take my shirt off.”
Now that he mentioned it, he was really overdressed next to her. She was wearing jeans and sandals and nothing on top.
Fingers shaking a little, she reached out and touched the top button. “Okay.” Then jumped when his thumb pinched her nipple and his tongue slid into her ear. Her shoulders went slack, her jeans suddenly way too hot. My, oh my, the man knew how to work his tongue.
She got the first button on his shirt undone, but the second proved to be made of sterner stuff. It slipped and caught and eluded her while she tried to work it over and over, Jack plucking her like a harp in a very distracting way.
Oh, yeah, she was hot stuff. A real sex goddess. She couldn’t even get him halfway out of his shirt. She was reduced to prying at it, clawing and pulling to try and remove it.
“Rip it,” he said, nipping at her earlobe.
Rip it? There was a thought. A wild girl would go for it.
But the only thing wild about her was her hair. Jamie gripped the shirt, hesitating like she did when it was time to remove the eyebrow wax strip.
“Rip it. Get me naked, Jamie.” Jack stepped back a foot. “Do it, damn it. I’m dying.”
He did look like he was in danger of agonizing death. Compassion forced her into action. Not to mention she really did want to see him without a shirt. She gripped the fabric tightly dead center and just pulled it apart in both directions, buttons flying off.
Dang, look at her. Arms out, legs spread, yanking Jack’s shirt open, her breasts bouncing with the movement.
She felt kind of sassy. As she pushed his shirt down over his hard, muscular shoulders, she told him, “I’ll sew all your buttons back on, don’t worry.”