Five Alarm Lust by Elise Whyles (reading cloud ebooks .TXT) 📗

it with Gillian. It wasn’t so much a matter of skill, but pride in himself. Hell, it had been years since a woman left his bed unhappy. Everyone knew his reputation, and it was well earned. So what was it about this one that kept her from falling over the edge? What could he have done different? Surely there was something.

He rested his ankle on his knee, his mind retracing the evening, a nagging feeling of missing something. Like an insect hovering near his head, the annoying feeling wouldn’t leave him. With a sudden clarity, he realized what had bothered him from the first moment he’d looked into her eyes. Beneath the thick glasses and shy demeanor beat the heart of a woman who was in pain. Something or someone hurt her and badly. He sighed; he’d be damned if he was going to let her hide from him.

Yeah, Jack, that’s really good. Thinkin’ ’bout yourself, aren’t you? It wasn’t like you did much to make sure she enjoyed herself. Hell, you did the wham bam thank you ma’am in under ten minutes flat! The annoying inner voice of reason lashed out. Where’s the man who has dates lining up to crawl into his bed because of his prowess?

He set the sweaty bottle on the table, rose, and strode over to the door. Flipping the DO NOT DISTURB sign around, he slid the lock closed. His bare feet were soundless on the carpet as he slid into the bedroom, his finger unknotting the sash of his terrycloth robe.

“Gillian.” Pressing a quick kiss to her brow, he trailed his fingers through the dark tendrils over her cheek. “Gillian, wake up. I need to talk to you.”

“No, go away. Sleepy.” Gillian brushed at his hand, her nose wrinkling in protest.

Jack grinned and shook her shoulder. He exhaled when she rolled away from him to sleep on her stomach. A soft smile played with the corners of his lips as he trailed a hand down her back. The thick puckered flesh below her third rib drew his attention.

He inched his fingers across the fabric-covered flesh and whistled under his breath. Something had sliced deep and long. He could feel the pucker where stitches were raised in the flesh. The scar trailed down her back to the top of her hip, where it blended into another that zigzagged across her shapely, pert ass.

He tugged the shirt up, his heart dropping at the series of small, faint lines that traced over her flesh. Some were deeper, wider than others, and he winced. He leaned down to press a quick kiss to her back, his tongue darting out to trace the line of the scar beneath his lips. Jack adjusted his frame until his back rested against the headboard, and then combed through Gilli’s hair with his fingers, his eyes tracing over the lines of her back. The dip in her waist, the full, plump curl of her ass, the long jagged scars that told of some horror he couldn’t comprehend. “Gillian,” he whispered, leaning over her. “Gillian, wake up, baby.”

“Sleep.”

“Later, babe.” He chuckled, his blood heating with a sharp need when she rolled onto her side, her legs sliding across satin sheets to reveal the shadowed flesh beneath the lace. Trailing a hand down her shoulder, he caressed the skin, his fingers dipping to tease the swell of her breasts.

“Go away.” Disgruntled, her brow wrinkling in annoyance, she waved at him and rolled onto her back. He grinned when she blinked her eyes open, squinting in the pale light before she reached for the bedside table and her glasses.

“Uh, you don’t need these,” Jack whispered, pulling the dark-framed eyewear free of her and setting them on the stand next to him. “Don’t need your eyes to feel.”

“What are you talking about, Jack? Where’s my shirt? I need…”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips and leaned forward. “You don’t need to go anywhere, Gilli, except right where you are. We didn’t get a chance to talk before.”

“Talk?” Gillian swallowed, her face blanched of all color. “Um, about what? I need my clothes or a robe or…”

“I haven’t left a woman hanging since I was sixteen.” Jack pushed himself deeper into the bedding. “And it bothers me that you didn’t come.”

“I’m fine. It was good. Really. I um … I … I should…” Gillian scooted back on the bed, her fingers tangling in the sheets.

Jack caught the dart of something in her eyes. Fear? Shame? Uncertainty? He narrowed his gaze, his mind racing. What could such a warm woman have to hide? “Gillian, you’re not going anywhere until you tell me why.”

“Why?” She tucked her feet beneath her bottom, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

He sighed. Her parroted statement toneless, her eyes widened, he caught the tremble in her fingers. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” She inched backward, putting more space between them.

“Oh, I never thought that. It’s just, it must be getting late, and really I should be getting back to my room. Thank you for letting me crash. Did you give room service…” Gillian rambled until he caught her ankle and pulled her back across the bed, to lean over her.

“No, room service didn’t take your dress yet.” Jack leaned forward, hands planted on either side of her hips. “Why, Gillian?”

“Why? Why what? I don’t understand the question.”

“Why did you let me fuck you in the bathroom? You didn’t enjoy it. If I had to wager, I’d say you weren’t even really into it. Was it about the shirt? Did you think I would just want sex? I’m not…”

“I never said you were.” Gillian huffed, her breathing erratic, her voice squeaking as she tried to focus on a point over his shoulder. “I did so want to. I could have told you no.”

“Okay.” He clasped her wrists in one fist and held them over her head. “Then why didn’t you come?” Leaning closer, he stared into her eyes.

“Come?” Gillian tugged on