FrenchQuarter.htm by Alexander Lacey (good fiction books to read TXT) 📗

real interested, especially when I filled ‘em in on his threats and his attack on you. He hasn’t really done anything they can arrest him for without you or Lynda pressin’ charges, and they said they wouldn’t even recommend that, Todd bein’ a pretty slick guy in terms of credentials and corporate backing, and the incidents bein’ unprovable other than the one on tape, which is inadmissible. But you don’t have to worry anymore because a couple guys down at the precinct are gonna make enough trouble for him that you won’t hear from him again.”

She looked astonished. “How can you be sure? What are they going to do?”

“First they’re gonna have a little talk with old Todd, tell him what they know, then suggest he clear outta New Orleans, ask his bosses for a transfer somewhere else. If he’s too stupid to do that, they’ll do it for him—they’ll let his company know exactly what sorta shit he’s been up to and explain that it’s in everyone’s best interest for Todd to relocate.” He gave her a knowing grin. “And trust me, darlin’—these guys can be pretty persuasive.”

In that very moment, Liz felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. It was as if she’d been holding her breath for a very long time and now could suddenly breathe again. Perhaps she’d managed to keep Todd out of her thoughts, but she supposed he’d never really been out of her mind completely—except for those wonderful, wild nights she’d spent with Jack. Now, suddenly, it was as if Todd and his ugly threats had been banished from her head and her heart for good. Jack had, amazingly, just succeeded in wiping them all away.

“Jack, I can’t thank you enough for this. I can’t tell you what a burden you’ve just taken away from me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t thank me, darlin’. I didn’t have any other choice. I couldn’t rest easy until that guy was outta your life for good. I only hope maybe it makes up just a little for my shitty behavior.”

“Jack, I—”

“Shh, wait.” He reached across the table for her hand. “I have to say somethin’, right now. I can’t let another minute pass.” He paused, took a deep breath, and Liz got lost in the depths of his dark, consuming gaze. “I’m so sorry, chere. Is there any way you can forgive me?”

A rush of pure joy invaded Liz’s lungs, her whole body, her whole being. “Yes,” she said. Then more emphatically, “Yes.”

For a long moment, only silence stretched between them as they gazed into each other’s eyes across the table. Night was falling in the Quarter; in the distance, someone played a saxophone, and bits of neon began to light yet another evening of excitement and decadence on the other end of Bourbon Street. But Liz was barely aware of anything else but the man before her, the man whose eyes at once seemed to cherish her and ravish her, the man who embraced every part of her, from the shy to the wanton.

Finally, Jack spoke, his voice low and filled with seduction. “I’ve missed bein’ inside you, chere. I’ve missed it so bad it’s like I can’t breathe.”

She glanced down at her breasts, felt the warm familiar stirrings between her legs, thought of something she wanted to tell him and almost didn’t, too shy, but then remembered—with Jack, she didn’t have to be shy. Jack would want to know. “Last night,” she began, lifting her eyes, “I fucked myself with the vibrator you gave me and I pretended you were watching me.”

His eyes fell closed for a moment, his jaw dropping slightly—she loved how taken aback and breathless he appeared. His voice was no more than a rasp. “Did you make yourself come?”

She nodded, feeling nearly as weak now as he looked.

“Was it good, baby?”

Another nod. “But afterward…I was so sad. I missed you. I wanted it to be you inside me.”

He rose from his chair and took her hands, guiding her to her feet, as well. His palms rose gently to her cheeks and his mouth descended on hers—strong, sweet, firm, his kiss filled with a desperation she’d never felt before. She kissed him back without reserve—the sexy honesty she’d just dished out had filled her with heat and readiness and the sense that with Jack, she didn’t need to hold anything back, nothing at all. He got to have all of her. And tonight there wouldn’t be anyone but the two of them making each other’s bodies echo with pleasure.

His hands eased down to her shoulders, onto her breasts, where they tenderly squeezed, and then his fingertips closed around her nipples through the dress and bra, and she was moaning without thought, and whispering up to him the words that kept playing in her brain. “Fuck me, Jack. Please fuck me. Now.”

He took both her hands and silently drew her in through the open French doors.

Her body ached for him. She wanted him to devour her.

Without ever letting his eyes leave hers, he reached around behind her, found the zipper at her back, and slowly lowered it, each painstaking inch seeming like a mile. Then his strong hands were on her back, roaming in a hot, lingering caress, until they came to her shoulders to peel the dress down, letting it fall to her hips. Not wanting to stretch anything out this time, she wiggled slightly and the fabric dropped at her feet.

Jack’s gaze traveled the length of her, taking in the blue lace bra and thong, and the strappy heels the color of warm cream. “Mmm, chere, you look good enough to eat.”

She pinned him with a wicked look. “This is what I wore for you on the night you threw Todd out. This is what you never got to see.”

Jack gave his head a short shake. “Don’t mention his name. I don’t wanna think about anything bad here—just me and you and all this pretty blue lace.”

His words burned through