Storms and Dreams (Becoming Jane Book 3)

D
r. Thomas Grayson
is every woman’s fantasy, and he’s giving Jane Claremont the stormiest, dreamiest weekend of her life. It was supposed to be a fling, just a few days away to get this crazy sexual chemistry they have out of their systems. But it’s turning into so much more, and that scares the hell out of Jane. The closer she gets to Thomas, the more he demands. He’s claimed her body, and now he’s after her heart. Her defenses are faltering and that’s dangerous. The fortress around her heart was built for a reason, and Jane can’t risk sharing herself, without sharing the secrets that lie beyond those walls. Until, she finds out, Thomas has secrets of his own.

T
hunder crashed
outside and lightning fissured across the sky. It flared blue and bright, illuminating for a split second the finely muscled torso of the beautiful man that hovered above me. The room smelled of ozone, candle wax and sweat. I watched, transfixed, as Thomas shifted over me, arms and legs braiding with mine. He held me fast against him as his hips thrust home. I shook in his arms, and he held me tighter, until I felt as if my skin had fused with his, as if our bodies had welded together.

We didn’t speak, neither of us, not a whisper. Yet somehow the air around us felt heavy with words. Ghosts of unspoken thoughts rippled in the currents around us as we made love.

My throat was raw and dry; I ached to speak to him, to tell him how I felt, instead I swallowed the words and slaked my thirst with his kisses.

Oh god his kisses. His mouth owned me. His lips, firm yet soft, warm and so very talented, branded me wherever they touched. Every kiss was reverent, a silent declaration pressed against my skin.

And then I felt the kisses change, soft pressure giving way to urgency.

I’d asked him not to speak, begged him to refrain from naming this feeling that we shared, this altered state that we’d found together. But in his own way, he defied me, and I could feel him tracing words of devotion against the hollow of my throat as his hips ground hard between my thighs.

I came undone, great racking sobs shuddered through my chest as I pulled his face to mine, questioning.

“Why?” I croaked.
Why is this happening?

“I don’t know,” he murmured, his lips brushing across mine.

“I wasn’t…I didn’t…” The words caught in my throat as he drove deep, his cock blunting over my G-spot, sending a shock of pleasure spasming through my core.

I wasn’t looking for this.
I finished the thought in my head.
I didn’t mean for this to happen.

“I know, neither was I,” he whispered against my ear, as if he’d read my thoughts. His teeth found my earlobe, and he bit down softly then canted his hips, his cock gliding out and in again, long firm strokes that stoked the fire raging low in my belly. I shoved my hands into his hair, and pulled his lips to mine, moaning as his tongue swept in to claim my mouth.

“It’s so…I feel…” I said when his lips released mine. He kissed a trail down my neck, and finding my nipple, flicked his tongue over the hard tip before sucking it into his mouth. I bucked in his arms, the contact sending a spike of pleasure up my spine. “Oh god.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “We don’t need to name it, not now, not yet.” His hands found mine and our fingers threaded. “Just fly with me,” he said and, raising my arms above my head, he pushed forward, his cock piercing me deeper than I thought possible, our bodies merging into one, held together by lust and sweat and want.

“Come with me, darling,” he said again, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm. Deep, hard and long.

My walls tightened around him, the muscles contracting, arching my back as I came around his cock. I cried out, my moans mingling with his own as I felt him release inside me. He held me to him fiercely, kissing the words away from my lips as I babbled.

“What the fuck…” Tears welled again and I sniffled into his shoulder. “Why is this happening? We didn’t sign up for this, it was just supposed to be sex.”

“I know.” He laughed into my hair. His voice was husky and deep. “I think the fates have other plans.”

“Well, nice of them to consult us.”

“They rarely do,” he said, stroking the hair from my face. He smiled down at me, a look so sweet and soft and layered with emotion that I swallowed hard and averted my eyes from his.

“Hey,” he said, turning my face back with a fingertip. “We don’t need to think about that now. We don’t need to talk about it, or make lofty proclamations or start picking out china patterns. I just want to be with you, in this place, in this moment. I just want to share this with you, feel this,” he said, his lips pressing to mine softly, “with you.”

I pulled him to me and pressed my lips hard against his, my kisses fervent and pained.

“Okay?” he asked. “Just feel this with me?”

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

Thunder clapped outside again, as if to punctuate our pact. But this time it was accompanied by a loud popping sound and the room grew darker by a noticeable degree.

“Weird,” I said. “Did the candles go out?”

“No,” said Thomas, rolling off of me. He crossed the room and retrieved the tablecloth from our dinner from the sideboard then returned to me and offered a hand. “I’m afraid the power’s gone out. The whole house appears a bit dimmer, even in here, although we didn’t have the lights on.”

I stood up and lifted my arms as Thomas draped the tablecloth around my body and knotted it.

“Oh no,” I said, “I wonder how long it’ll be out.”

“Not long, I suspect. Mrs. Linsley told me the house has a backup system. Although I can’t imagine that a sudden loss of power will have been good for our soufflé.”

“Oh shit,” I said. My chin snapped up and our eyes met.

“The soufflé!” we both said at the same time.

Thomas ran to the stairs, retrieved his trousers from a pile in the corner of the dining room and attempted to pull them on while simultaneously hopping back down the stairs.

“Dinner and a show!” I laughed as I watched him, that delicious bare ass bobbing about in the air as he struggled to pull up his pants.

“Just for that, you’re helping.” He smirked, grabbed the candelabra from the sideboard, then turned back for me, clutching my hand in his as we raced down the dark hallway together towards the kitchen.

T
homas leaned
over the marble kitchen counter, his head in his hands, the deflated corpse of our love soufflé sitting before him, a towel draped over its remains in a gesture of respect. I came up behind him and curled my arms around his waist, running my hands over his chest.

“Well, maybe we can call it a chocolate pancake, instead of a soufflé?”

“Pancakes aren’t crispy on the edges.”

“No, but cookies are. Maybe we can call it a large chocolate cookie?”

“Cookies aren’t goopy in the center.”

“No, that’s true, but…you know what? That actually sounds delicious.” I released him and walked to the freezer. “Got any ice cream in this mansion?”

He lifted his head and arched an eyebrow at me. “You have a plan?”

“I’m the dessert whisperer,” I said, lifting a tub of gourmet vanilla bean ice cream from the freezer. I smiled at him slyly. “I’ve got a plan. Get me a spoon, stud.”

“Right,” he said, selecting a large spoon from the drawer next to him and handing it to me.

I removed the towel from our sad confection, scooped a mound of ice cream from the tub and plopped the creamy goodness dead center into the mess. The scoop coasted across the surface of the soufflé as it melted, leaving a sticky trail in its wake.

“Voila!” I said, raising the spoon with a flourish. “Chocolate Pancake Cookie Soufflé a la mode.”

Thomas raised one skeptical eyebrow.

“Oh just take a bite, tiger. It’s chocolate and ice cream—how bad can it be?” I handed him the spoon.

He dipped carefully into the dish and spooned up a perfectly portioned mouthful of soufflé and ice cream, then lifted it to his lips, and eyed me grimly.

“Go on.”

“You first, I’m frightened,” he said, nudging my lips with the spoon.

“Hey!” I smacked his chest, then grinned against the edge of the spoon and slowly poked my tongue out, licking tentatively, before parting my lips and sucking in a mouthful of vanilla cream and chocolate.

“Oh God,” I moaned in appreciation. “Delicious.” I licked my lips and smiled.

His eyes watched me intently, the dimples at the corners of his smile fading as his expression changed from amusement to arousal.

“Let me taste,” he said, throwing the spoon to the counter with a clatter. He snaked an arm around my waist and yanked me to him, his mouth crashing over mine, his tongue sweeping in to taste me.

I gasped at the assault and laughed against his lips, my hands clutching his shoulders for balance.

The walls hummed loudly and the lights came back on with a crackle and pop and the glow of a thousand buzz-killing suns.

“No!” Thomas shouted, releasing me.

“Ow, that is bright,” I said, shielding my eyes.

“It’s completely unacceptable!” He scrambled to the light switches and swiped both hands furiously across them, throwing us back into candlelight. He turned back towards me, and I squinted at him, my pupils still adjusting from the dilation whiplash. His gaze was heated, the lazy swing of his limbs as he walked back towards me those of a predator trying to set its prey at ease.

I gulped. “So what do you think?” I asked, wondering more what was on his mind right then than what he thought of the dessert.

“Hmmm…it needs something else,” he said, his voice low and thick with mischief, dimples flashing at the corner of his smile.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I asked in a tone that I hoped sounded steadier and lighter than my nerves.
I can’t think when he looks at me like that!

He stood in front of me, shirtless and barefoot, his hair mussed from our lovemaking, his eyes twinkling with mirth and lust and I felt my stomach clench and my throat tighten. He was so beautiful, so damn heartbreakingly beautiful I could barely stand to look at him. Something deep inside me told me to run, run far away from this man, and never look back. I closed my eyes, willing myself to shut it down and shake it off. There was only one place in the universe I wanted to be right now, and that was here, with him.

The heat of his body told me he was standing in front of me, but I kept my eyes closed a little longer, and smiled when I felt him rest a finger under my chin. I opened my eyes as he lifted my gaze to his, and my breath hitched when I saw the look on his face. The devil’s angel was grinning at me, like
I
was dessert.

“It’s a nearly perfect confection,” he said, stroking his hands up over my arms to my shoulders.

“Nearly?”

“Yes, it just needs…” he said, his fingers finding the knot that secured the tablecloth to my naked form and plucking at it casually, loosening it, “…a dash of Jane.”

The knot released and the tablecloth fell to the floor, leaving me naked in front of him. His eyes traveled over my body as he took one of my wrists in his free hand, and twisted my arm behind me gently, firmly, until my back arched and my breasts jutted up at him as if they were offering themselves; pink tipped, tingling supplicants at the altar of Thomas’s regard. I squirmed in his arms, and my breasts bobbed indecently at the movement.

“Oh yes,” he growled. He reached into the soufflé dish, lifted a dollop of the mess and smeared a sticky mix of chocolate and cream over one nipple, watching, enthralled when it plumped at his touch. He loomed over me, pushing me back into the marble counter and trailed hot, open mouthed kisses over my throat to my breast. Cradling my breast in his hand, he licked the nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply, rolling it with his tongue. My fingers clawed air, searching for some stability as an electric shock of pleasure shot from my breasts straight to my core.

“Delicious,” he said, smacking his lips before turning his tongue to my other nipple, sending a fresh wave of sensation thrilling through me. “Perfection.”

My knees threatened to buckle under me and I pitched to the side, looping my free arm around his neck to break my fall.

“Steady now.” He laughed, releasing my wrist, his hands gliding over my hips. He cupped my ass, lifting me to sit on the cool, stone countertop.

“You literally make my knees weak,” I said, sighing with embarrassment.

“I know,” he said, his eyes lifting to mine. “I love that. Tell me,” —he pushed my thighs apart roughly and filled the space between them with his torso, raking his fingers up my body— “what else do I do to you?” He threaded a hand in my hair and pulled my head back, nipping at my throat as his other hand smoothed over my skin, down to the small of my back.

“Jesus Christ,” I stammered, my thoughts clouded with lust. “You have no idea.”

“Tell me,” he said, his fist tightening in my hair. He pulled back, caught my gaze in his and held it there, the look in his eyes burning, blue flame.

“Oh God,” I said, nuzzling my cheek against his arm. He overwhelmed me and I closed my eyes again to get some relief from the chaos of sensations that were rioting through my body. “Thomas, I can’t even think when you’re touching me, let alone talk.”

“Ooo,” he purred with mock sympathy. “Why’s that?”

“It’s like I’m drunk,” I said, opening my eyes. “Except, when you’re drunk, everything goes numb, and when I’m with you, it’s very much the opposite.”

‘Interesting,” he said, one hand trailing over my stomach and down, across the inside of my thigh to my cleft.

“Jeez.” I jumped at his touch and gripped his shoulders tightly.

“You were saying?” he prompted casually, raising an eyebrow. His fingers were treacherous, tracing a dangerous route that circled my core teasingly, then fondled through my folds, slicking over my clit, rolling and massaging until I gasped.

“Fu…” I slurred, and slumped against him, burrowing my face in his neck as he probed my entrance.

“Go on,” he said, his fingers slipping inside me.

“Everything is heightened,” I said, struggling to form words through the haze of lust that was blanketing me. “Extreme. It’s like my entire nervous system is about to go super nova.”

His fingers penetrated deep, and I cried out as my body arched in his arms, waves of pleasure crashing through me.

“Yes,” he growled against my hair, his voice raw. “It’s exactly like that.”

He released me, and I whimpered at the loss of contact, feeling so empty without his fingers inside me. But his mouth caught mine, silencing me with a fervent kiss as I felt his hands reach down between us, heard the rasp of metal as he unzipped his trousers and let them fall to the floor. I went weak at the sound, lust washing through my limbs like a drug. My body felt boneless, and limp. I leaned against his chest for support as his hands trailed over my skin. I kissed him deeply, capturing his bottom lip between my teeth and sucking hungrily. He laughed against my lips, a low throaty sound that sent a shiver up my spine. We’d already made love twice tonight. How could I want him, so much, so badly, again? I lifted my hands to touch him, to pull him to me, desperate to feel all of his skin against my own. That’s when I realized I was shaking.