Chapter 89 89
“My father and my entire family was very protective of me.”
“Which makes what we’re doing pretty risky.”
She frowned. “I’m not five years old. My life is my own.”
“You’re telling me the Bennet men don’t keep an eye on you?”
She wanted to be able to say no, but what was the point? Justin knew too much about her family. “We all maintain the fiction that I come and go as I please. Do whatever I want. But yes. I realize that very little I do is completely private.”
She looked around, “Hopefully I will get a place like this someday. Peaceful and uncluttered. A place I could use as a retreat.”
“And kid-friendly?”
Unease skittered along her nerve endings. “Maybe a few toys for the nieces and nephews. Perhaps a bunk bed.”
“You honestly have no plans to be a mom one day?”
“I don't know,” she said flatly. She shoved the bowl aside, though she had eaten less than half of the dessert. “What about you? Are you going to turn your bachelor pad into a baby-proof garret?”
He shrugged. “Doubtful. I’m thinking of building a family-sized house just outside of Olkfield. I’ve been looking for the right parcel of land for the last couple of years.”
“I see.” Her dinner sat like lead in her stomach. When Justin didn’t say anything more, the silence became oppressive. Escape seemed the smart course. “If you won’t let me help with the dishes,” she said, “I think I’ll turn in for the night. I’m reading a good book.”
Justin reached across the table and gripped one of her wrists in his big hand. “No.”
“Excuse me?” Surely his caveman technique wasn’t the reason butterflies tumbled in her chest.
He got up, drawing her to her feet, as well. “I have plans for the evening,” he said mildly, although the look in his eyes was anything but. Sexual tension prowled like a dark shadow in the room. “You can cooperate, or I’ll persuade you.”
“My God, you’re an arrogant ass.” They were standing so close together she could see a tiny scar on his right cheekbone. His body radiated heat and a scent that was all male. Equal parts soap and sexual determination.
“And you’re an aggravating shrew,” he said, his gaze on her parted lips. “Lord knows why I want you.”
“And yet here we are.”
“Indeed.” He wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger. “Why do you think that is?”
“You’re bored?”
“Not in the least.”
“I strike you as some kind of challenge?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” she said, twisting away to stand in front of the fire. “Maybe you have some deep-seated need to prove you’re irresistible.”
“I’ve been rejected on occasion, Sherry. Trust me.”
There it was. That tricky word. Trust. “What exactly do you want from me?”
“I already told you. You said no, but you also promised me this weekend. Until the snow melts. I propose we call a truce. Enjoy tonight and tomorrow. And then Monday morning I'll keep my end of the deal and take you to see Mark about Sunny side. It doesn't matter if you agree to marry me or not.”
“Really? You'd still do it? Why?”
He stalked her, backing her toward the corner where the hearth met the alcove. With a flick of his wrist, he reached for the light switch and plunged the room into semidarkness, illumined only by the fire and the single candle. “A truce means you have to pretend you like me.”
Her butt smacked into the wall. “I’m not that good an actress.”
He grinned, his teeth flashing like a rogue pirate. “You’re a spoiled brat, sweetheart.”
“You’re a bossy, high-handed pig.”
“Kiss me.”
The rough command took the starch out of her knees. Her hands flattened on the surface behind her. “I won’t.”
His arms bracketed her shoulders as his head lowered. “Liar, liar…”
What happened next was like every romantic chick flick she’d ever seen all rolled into one. She was pretty sure an orchestra played somewhere in the background. And Justin's warm, firm lips put any one of a number of leading men to shame as he moved in, surrounded her and took what he wanted. Oh, Lordy.
Somehow her arms ended up around his neck, her breasts mashed up against a rock-hard chest. He tasted like sweet berries and cream. The roughness of his tongue tantalized as he intruded ever so gently between lips that trembled. She barely had time to catch her breath before he scooped her into his arms and pressed her against the wall. “You are so damned hot,” he said.
“I drive you insane.”
He bit the side of her neck. “But I like it.”
She giggled. She actually giggled. And that was when she knew she was in trouble. Because Sherry Bennet never giggled. “We already had sex once today.” As excuses went, it was pretty pitiful.
Justin snorted. “Then we’re way behind.”
He hefted her by the ass and skirted the table, knocking over a chair in his haste. She would have giggled again if she had been able to force air from her throat.
Something was strangling her, some desperate, aching realization that her life was never going to be the same after this weekend. “I’m not very good at it,” she blurted out, not wanting to pretend with him.
“At what?” He dumped her on the sofa and kneeled beside her to unzip her pants.
“Sex,” she moaned, feeling his fingers slip beneath the lacy edge of her panties.
Justin's eyes blazed with hunger, his cheekbones slashed with dark color.
“Could have fooled me. Shut up, baby. Unless you want to say something sensible.”
He dragged off her pants, underwear and shoes in one reckless maneuver. Next her sweater, shirt and bra went flying. He opened his jeans and came down between her legs. The denim abraded her inner thighs as he found what he wanted.
“There’s no room,” she panted. The narrow sofa wasn’t made for sexual activity.
“I’ll make room.” His voice was rough with determination. “Damn, you’re wet,” he groaned as he tested her readiness with two fingers. The scrape of his fingernail on her delicate flesh sent a keening cry echoing toward the ceiling. But when Justin entered her fully and pushed his way home, the simultaneous cessation of breathing, his and hers, lent magic to the connection.
Five seconds passed. Then ten. She lifted her hips, begging wordlessly. Justin kissed her gently, his mouth firm and sweet. “What is it you do to me?”