Reading His Mind (4 page)

He leaned forward, one hand on each side of my body, as he lowered his mouth to mine, his lips soft and sweet until mine parted. His kiss changed, driven by hunger and need. Longing swelled in my veins. In front of me, he swirled his hips in a wide circle, then moved back three steps.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his gyrating pelvis, even as his eyes roved over my skin . One by one, he slid the buttons free, his shirt gaping farther open with each move he made. He tossed it onto the floor then stalked to the bed, each move sleek and graceful, oozing sex.

He knelt in front of me and crawled up the side of the bed, his hands sliding along my thighs to the bottom of my cami. He lifted the lace higher, and brushed his mouth against my belly button, the brief touch of his tongue sending quivers racing through my veins. He backed away, still pulsating to the music. His hands skimmed down his stomach, where he yanked his belt free from the loops, letting it join his shirt on the floor. With a deft flick of his fingers, he freed his pants button, dancing closer to the bed again. He took my hands in his, pulling until I sat up straight, staring at the ab muscles now in my face.

I ran a touch over his hot, smooth skin, up his chest, back to his waistband, and lower until I’d pulled the zipper tab down. He moved away again, giving me a full view of his luscious backside as his body continued to sway in time to the music. He looked over his shoulder and lowered one side of his jeans, teasing, tempting me to finish this myself before he had a chance. I sat mesmerized by the hypnotic way he used his body. Every buck and roll of his hips simulated sex. The confidence in each move shot the temperature up another few degrees until sweat glistened on my skin. He didn’t talk, didn’t need to.

I crooked my finger at him, ready to beg him to tear the rest of his clothes off right then. Finally, when his jeans dropped onto the pile, he lifted me so I stood in front of his glorious nakedness. “That was hot.”

“I was inspired.” His smug smile said he knew exactly what he’d done and how intense the picture of him dancing had been. “Now, you seem to be overdressed.”

I reached to remove my own clothes, but he reached out, and I stilled.

“No. Let me.”

His knuckles grazed my skin, shooting fireworks off in my mind. His mouth closed around my nipple, nibbling then sucking until it pebbled. He moved to the other and repeated every move as his fingers glided down my stomach, over my panties to the clips holding my stockings in place. When he finished unfastening, his palms trailed down my thigh, slipping inside the hem of the nylons so that he held side of my thigh. Without breaking the skin-to-skin contact, he pushed the stocking to my ankle, bowing until he was on his knees in front of me, lifting my foot to remove the silk.

His lips pressed against my panties, and I sucked in a deep breath then moaned. Pure heat and need spiraled from his mouth, teasing my skin through the lacy fabric as he worked the other stocking off. With only the garter and my panties between my skin and his lips, I was anxious to rid us of the final barrier, but he captured my hands again as his tongue ravaged me.

I neared the edge, and he’d barely touched anything but my clothes. He tucked his thumbs into my waistband, dragging both pieces of lingerie down in one move while his mouth caressed my skin, causing my knees to weaken. All my bones turned liquid. Every thought in my head escaped in a rush of panting breaths as I climbed higher and higher, ready to take flight.

His finger slid inside me, and the world exploded into every type of light and sound I could have ever imagined. A symphony played in my head—that might have been his phone—and I writhed against the continued pressure of his mouth. For a second, or a minute or a year, I could only focus on him, the way he braced my body to keep me from puddling at his feet, the greedy tongue lapping , the sounds in his throat escaping, humming against my sex. My thoughts remained fluffy clouds of ecstasy as I floated back to earth.

Jace stood, taking me in his arms as he pressed gentle kisses against my shoulder, my neck, my ear. I turned our bodies around so the backs of his knees were against the bed then pushed him to a sitting position. The color drained from his cheeks.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom.”

“You came to class unprepared? Tsk, tsk, Mr. Laugherty.” I reached into the night table, pulled out a foil packet, and tore into the wrapper with shaky hands. Brushing away all thoughts of expiration dates, I concentrated instead on the hard length of Jace’s erection, trying to do this without the latex flying off and snapping one of us in the face.

I didn’t want to know what he was thinking, so I blanked my own mind in an effort to ignore his thoughts. At last, condom in place, I climbed on his lap, fitting around him, one slow inch at a time until my eyes closed and the whole world narrowed to Jace , until my focus clouded and only he existed, until I panted with the effort of control, Then, I began moving. The most primal of needs blotted out any self-consciousness I might have felt. With each thrust, wanton sound escaped my throat. His lips captured mine, branding me with heat and desire. My body thrashed against his. My hands clawed his back, his shoulders, hanging on as I rose, once again, to a fevered pitch.

He flipped us around without ever breaking contact and pushed into me with desperation, intensity. Our voices rang out together as we toppled over the edge, shuddering and panting as though we’d completed the Iron Man Challenge.

He rolled off, taking me with him, one arm wrapped around my shoulder in a cuddle, the other thrown over his eyes. “Wow.”

I would have answered but was busy trying to bring my breathing back to normal.

He turned his head . “I guess having condoms in a drawer next to your bed means this isn’t your first time?” A single eyebrow quirked heavenward.

“Are you asking if I’m a big old slut?”

He chuckled.

“No. Not a slut, but not an angel. Mostly just nonexistent in that arena.”

He snapped his fingers. “I wanted to be your first.”

“You’re a few years too late.” I laughed at the mock sadness on his face. “Oh, poor baby. I suppose that since you couldn’t be the first you want to hear that you were the best.”

He nodded, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Too cute.” I traced that lip. “You’re definitely in my top ten.”

He shot upright and looked down at me. “There were more than ten?”

There hadn’t even been five. “Don’t judge. Especially when your sexcapades are all over the tabloids, baseball love god.”

His eyes were still wide.

“Okay. Fine. There were three, and you definitely beat the others. That sexy stripper dance alone pole vaulted you right over top of them.”

“Well, I think we need to make sure I stay in the top spot.” He reached for me.

“Yeah? How do you plan to do that?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, as the god of baseball and love, I have my ways.” Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss on my stomach.

“Prove it.”

“My pleasure.”

I lay with my head on his arm, pleasantly worn out. He twirled my hair around his finger. “Why jury consultant?”

I busied myself with basking in afterglow, but he wanted to chat. Fine. “A friend of mine had to sit through a court case for one of her classes, so I went along. I sat there listening to the case and hearing what the jurors were thinking. I knew the prosecutor wasn’t doing enough for them to be satisfied. So, I started writing down what they wanted to know—things he hadn’t stressed enough in their minds. At the end of the day, I went to him and told him. He brushed me off. I was just some college kid telling a big smart prosecutor what to do, but I went back the next day. I was so hooked, I wanted to do it again.” I ran a fingertip over one of the ridges on his stomach, and his breath caught. I lightly clawed his skin once more, receiving the same response, so I continued while I spoke. “He just wouldn’t listen. But, he was asking himself all these things in his head, and I accidentally”—it had been no accident—“answered one of the questions he hadn’t said out loud. It freaked him out. He threw me out of his office. He called Security and everything.” His eyes looked into mine, while he continued to twine my hair around his finger. “Anyway, that night, he showed up at my dorm and asked me to come to court the next day. I have been working with him ever since.”

“But not on this case?”

“No. This case isn’t his. A girl I know is a secretary or paralegal for a firm here in Las Vegas. Her boyfriend is some up-and-coming associate who is doing the case pro bono. He wants to make a name for himself, so she called and asked me to help out.”

“Is he winning?”

“Nope.”

He grinned. “Is he going to win?”

“I don’t read the future, Jasper.” I moved closer to him, no longer interested in talking.

My alarm blared its hateful early morning beep but, instead of reaching over to slap it into silence, I snuggled closer to Jace, using his warmth to hide from my day. I wanted to stay locked into the night.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing my shoulder as he smacked the snooze button.

George popped the door open, a cup of french roast and two slices of perfectly slathered toast on a tray. “
She
is not a morning person.” The know-it-all tone in his voice explained his appearance in my room.

I sat up, snatching the steaming brew, moaning in anticipation of pleasure of my first taste. Before bringing the mug to my lips, I flipped a look at George. “Did you put ice in it?”

“One cube.”

“Cream?”

“Two ounces.”

“Sweetener?”

“Two packets. Exactly the same every single time I make it.” Every morning I’d been in Vegas, at six in the morning, we repeated the exact same conversation.

I took a sip—perfection in a cup. George woke pretty much dressed for his day, ready to tackle the inequalities of the world. I, on the other hand, wore my sheet. “There is a reason you’re my best friend.”

“I know, my love. Shall I make your houseguest a cup as well?”

I laughed. “Feel free to speak directly to the houseguest, George.”

He squinched his face at me then turned his attention to Jace. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well. This is normally the part of the day where I sit here poking her along into getting ready, but I believe she has been well and adequately poked enough for a few weeks at least.”

I pantomimed a laugh.

“So, I guess, I’ll leave you to it.” He turned, strolling to the door. “See you tonight.”

Sensing Jace’s discomfort with the closeness I shared with my bestie, I said, “Sorry. George knows no boundaries, and he has no filter.”

“Did you and he ever—?”

“Oh, God no. He’s a one-hit wonder in the dating world. I don’t do one-night flings.” Of course, having just the one sip of caffeine in me would make me say stupid things. He probably thought I expected romance, flowers, or—God forbid—a relationship with the promise of a ring. “I didn’t mean I think you should…that we should….” I shut up when he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“For being able to read minds, you’re awful at it.”

I sighed. “I’m trying
not
to get all into your head. It isn’t always good to know what people are thinking. Remember my Starbucks story?”

“I do, so I’m just going to put this out there. I love the way you look with bedhead.” He kissed my neck, moving down to my shoulder. “Besides, you’re already in my head.”

He twisted my body around, turning his attention to the fun parts of my torso.

“As much as I’d like to hang out here with you, I have to work. So, put that thing away.”

He chuckled and lay back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Hey, Lyric?”

I turned to look over my shoulder at him, tying my robe. He rested on his side, his head perched on his fist.

“I’m glad you were in the bar last night.”

I answered before any regrets had a chance to set in. “Me, too.”

“Are you free tonight?”

“Constitutionally.”

“Socially?”

I hadn’t had any plans on a Friday in ages. “What do you have in mind?”

Something in his expression, the tight line of his mouth, the hooded eyes, told me I wouldn’t be cartwheeling through the living room in joy over his idea. “I have dinner with the family to celebrate the upcoming nuptials, and I thought, I mean, I
hoped
you could come along.”

“Are you out of your freaking mind?” I supposed I could dabble around a bit and find out, but, sometimes, I experienced actual joy in not knowing.

“Maybe, but I have a family obligation, and I want to spend the evening with you. I found a way to resolve the conflict. It’s quite a brilliant compromise, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.” The bite in my tone ached in my ears. This idea—dinner with the family—lacked even a shard of anything shiny, bordered instead on lame brained, touched the fine line of stupid.

“But you didn’t deny its brilliance, either.”

“Consider my turning you down a denial of epic proportions.”

“Turning me down?”

I nodded.

“Oh, come on. Surely, you aren’t afraid of your sister?”

“No.” Years of living on my own almost guaranteed if I wanted to, I could take her.

“Your grandma?”

“Yes.” She defined the word formidable and, to my knowledge, she’d never experienced an adverse effect for wielding a wooden spoon when I got out of line. I’d never checked but would have bet my next three paychecks she carried one around in her purse.

“Your folks are going to be there, too.”

“Clearly, you are crazy, in need of some serious psychological pharmaceuticals. Dinner with my sister, my mother,
and
my grandmother? I wouldn’t go if you promised to show up naked.”

He grinned. “So, you like me naked?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you might have missed my point.”

“No, I got your point. You’re scared to face your family. I chose to concentrate on the fact you like me naked.” This Jace, the cocky, arrogant boy I remembered from my childhood, appeared different than the man I’d just crawled out of bed with.