Well, not quite all.
It had begun near the table. His orange T-shirt was hanging off one of the dining chairs. Her silk wraparound lay in a crumpled heap on the floor between the table and the lounge. A pair of white shorts had been pitched right across the room to droop drunkenly over the television set. She couldn’t see what had happened to the sandals he’d been wearing.
Her view was blocked off as Jake moved through the archway and into the bathroom. He sat on the tiled ledge around the Jacuzzi, settled her on his lap and turned on the taps full blast. Amy didn’t know where to look. Luckily he started kissing her again so she just closed her eyes and let him do whatever he liked.
Which he was extremely good at.
She certainly had to grant him that.
Though she was equally certain he had taken advantage of her…her susceptibility…to his…his manpower…which was stirring again and her body was riven by an uncontrollable urge to shift to a more amenable position, like sitting astride those two great thighs instead of across them.
As though Jake instinctively knew this was more appropriate, he rearranged her with such slick speed, it seemed like one lovely fluid movement with him sliding right back into the space that wanted him, filling it with a really delicious fullness.
It felt great. Even better when he started drawing her nipples into his mouth, tugging on the distended nubs, setting up a fantastic arc of sensation that zipped from her breasts to the deep inner sharing, driving her awareness of it to a kind of sensual madness that refused to be set aside.
The taps were turned off, the jets of water switched on and they slipped into the bath, still revelling in the erotic intimacy of being locked together. One part of her mind warned Amy she would have to face what she was doing with Jake Carter, but most of it just didn’t want to think at all. Feeling was much more seductive and satisfying.
“Warm now?” he asked.
“Mmmh…”
He laughed, a low throaty gurgle coated with deep satisfaction. “Can’t hold it in water, sweetheart, but let me tell you I’ve never had it so good.”
She sighed over the inevitability of their connection ending, though she even found pleasure in his shrinking, feeling the relaxation of her inner muscles as the pressure decreased and tantalisingly slipped away. She peered through her lashes at the happy grin on his face and privately admitted she’d never had it so good, either, but she wasn’t sure she should echo his words.
He was still Jake the rake.
Still her boss.
Letting him know he’d won first prize on the sexual front might mess up things even worse than they’d already been messed up. Amy didn’t know how to deal with this situation. Another bridge had been burnt and the future was now a lot murkier than it had been before. She pushed herself down to the other end of the bath and tried to get her mind into gear. Some straight thinking might help.
Jake raised his eyebrows at her in teasing inquiry while his eyes danced with the wicked knowledge that she couldn’t ignore what they’d just shared.
Then she remembered the heart-sickening frequency of his sharing with other women. What if he told all of them he’d never had it so good? A charming ego-stroke to top everything off? And just in case he forgot their names in the heat of the moment…
“Don’t call me sweetheart!”
The words shot out of her mouth with such vehemence, both of them were startled by their passionate protest. Amy was shaken by how violently she recoiled from having joined an easily forgotten queue, and Jake’s good humour instantly lost its sparkle, his eyes narrowing, focusing intensely on her. His sudden stillness suggested he was harnessing all his energy to the task of perceiving the problem.
“I don’t use that endearment loosely, Amy,” he said quietly. “You are sweet to my heart. But if you don’t like it…”
“I have a name. I’m not one of your passing parade, Jake. I’m your P.A.,” she cried. “Just because I’ve committed the ultimate folly of going to bed with my boss, doesn’t turn me into a no-name woman.”
“You? Amy Taylor a no-name woman?” He threw back his head and laughed. “Never in a million years!” A golden star-burst of twinkles lit his eyes. “And you know we didn’t go to bed, Amy. You specifically said you weren’t going to bed with me and I respected that decision.”
Her insides were mush, churning with a million uncertainties, yet being hopelessly tugged by the sheer attraction of the man. Was she sweet to his heart? All she really knew was they’d done it, bed or no bed, and she was in a state of helpless confusion over what it meant or might mean to either of them.
Before she could think of any reply to him, he shook his head at her and offered a wry little smile as he made the pertinent comment, “Neither of us can blame ourselves for spontaneous combustion.”
This implied he hadn’t planned what happened, any more than she had. An accident of Fate? Or a convenient excuse?
“Was it?” she asked suspiciously.
“What?”
“Spontaneous combustion.”
“It felt like that to me.” His brow puckered for a thoughtful moment. “I remember I was swinging in with all the support I could think of for your out-of-my-life act, socking it home to your ex, then…yes, I’d definitely have to call it spontaneous combustion. Mind you, the chemistry was always there. No denying it.”
Amy had to accept the undeniable truth that she’d played with fire, tempted the devil, and the ensuing conflagration could not be entirely laid at Jake’s door. She sighed, letting go the craven wish to dissolve in the bath. There was no escaping what had to be faced.
“So what do we do now?” she asked, looking for some signal from him.
He grinned at her. “I suggest we have dinner. Both of us need re-fuelling.”
Pragmatic Jake. One appetite burnt out…might as well get on with feeding another.
Which could then re-ignite the first and…Amy clamped down on that thought. She had to get sex with Jake off her brain. More practical matters needed to be settled.
“Okay,” she agreed. “You dry yourself off first and I’ll follow.”
He eyed her quizzically. “You’re not going shy on me, are you, Amy?”
It triggered a nervous laugh. “A bit late for that. I just want the bathroom to myself while I tidy up.”
In truth, Amy didn’t want to risk tangling physically with Jake, with or without towels. She needed some clear space here to tidy up her responses to him.
“Fair enough,” he said and whooshed out of the bath, the massive displacement of water almost causing a tidal wave.
He was a big man. Stark naked, there was a lot of him, all of it impressive. Amy couldn’t help staring. In every male sense he was well proportioned, well muscled and most decisively well endowed. Very well indeed. Her vaginal muscles went into spasms of excitement just looking at him, remembering how he’d felt and what he’d done.
It was just as well she was still lying in the bath. Jake didn’t even have to apply the art of temptation in the nude. He was it. He turned to reach for a towel and his backside scored a perfect ten beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Amy was struck by a powerful insight. Lust was not a male prerogative. Lust could hit a woman like a runaway train. She was left wondering how on earth it could be stopped.
A more urgent question was…did she want it to be stopped?