Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(74)

“Yes.” But Jason was looking at her. “Did you ever read The Wizard of Oz?”

“When I was little. Did you?”

“No, but I saw the movie at least a half-dozen times.” Gently he smoothed back her hair as a breeze toyed with the loose locks. “Incidentally … I always rooted for the witch.”

* * *

The beach cottage was sophisticated and luxuriously appointed with hardwood floors, an abundance of glass windows, and deep comfortable furniture. A color palette of creams and neutrals gave it a fresh open feeling, with the blues of the sky and ocean visible from every room. There was a gourmet kitchen, a dining room, and a main living area with a fireplace surmounted by a flat-panel TV. The king-size bed in the bedroom was covered with heavy slick linens. A huge marble tub dominated the adjoining bathroom, which also featured a separate glass shower. After investigating every room of the elegant villa, Justine went back to the main area.

Jason had removed his suit jacket and was draping it over the back of the chair. She had caught him in an unguarded moment. He was tired, she saw, his handsomeness a bit lived-in, worn around the edges. Somehow that made him even sexier, more human, a man with flaws and needs.

“You wanted love,” he had told her in the lobby. “Now you’ve got it.”

No matter how angry or hurt she was, Justine knew it was the truth.

And the echo of Priscilla’s words were still with her: “Even if that spell worked … you don’t have forever.”

Could she afford to waste a moment of love? Could anyone?

Jason looked up as she approached him. The self-possessed mask was instantly resumed. “Do you like the cottage?” he asked. “Because if you don’t—” He broke off, his only reaction a quick double blink as Justine deliberately stripped off her T-shirt and tossed it to the sofa. His gaze locked on to her slim form, dressed in a white cotton bra and jeans. “Justine,” he said raggedly, “I want to make it clear that there’s no obligation … that is, you don’t have to…”

“You’re trying to say I’m not required to sleep with you in exchange for room and board?”

“Exactly.” He didn’t move as she reached for his tie, her slender fingers unknotting the length of silk.

Justine tossed the tie aside. “So when you canceled my reservation and insisted that I stay in this cottage with you, there was no thought of sex lurking in your mind?”

“Not lurking,” Jason said, breathing unevenly as she began to unfasten his shirt. “Stampeding. But you still don’t have to sleep with me.”

Justine let the front of his shirt hang open and slipped her bra straps down. Reaching for the back fastening of her bra, she arched her br**sts toward him. “So if I asked you to take the sofa tonight, you’d be fine with that?”

“Yes.”

She let the bra drop to the floor. Standing on her toes, she slipped her hand behind his taut neck. “Doubtful,” she whispered, and pressed her parted lips to the underside of his jaw. “But you get points for trying to be a gentleman.” The familiar warmth and scent of his skin was her undoing. All trace of melancholy was driven out by a relief so sweeping and giddy that it felt like being drunk.

Jason brought his mouth to hers in a slow, hot kiss. His long fingers spread over the contours of jaw, cheeks, nose, forehead, as if he were blind and could perceive her only by touch. The kiss turned deep and ravenous, until they were both panting, fumbling to undress each other.

Soon a trail of clothes marked the path to the bedroom. Standing by the bed, Jason held her close and cupped her breast. He shaped the plush contour, his thumb and forefinger gently pinching the tip until it was hard and deep pink. He bent to soothe it with his tongue. At the moment her balance faltered, his arm was there to support her, lowering her to the wide bed covered with cool white sheets.

There was nothing in the world beyond this quiet room with the shutters drawn closed. No time, no spinning earth, no deep blue ocean, no broken magic or fate bestowed by unfriendly stars. There was only this man. Her lover, her charmer, binding her heart with invisible cords.

He pressed her back and bent over her br**sts, kissing the swollen tips. Sensation darted from her br**sts to her groin in vibrant flashes. His hand went to the soft place between her thighs, one of his fingers wriggling into the tightness, his thumb resting lightly on the aching peak. He began to massage her in slow, teasing circles, inside and out. Pleasure began rolling up to her, gathering momentum. Not yet. She wrenched free and bent over his lap to take him into her mouth, letting her tongue circle the stiff silky tip. The taste of him was intensely arousing, a hint of saline freshness like the ocean.

Jason went still. His eyes closed, and his hands clenched into fists as if he were being tortured. Soon he moved to stop her, pulling her head away with unsteady hands.

He pushed Justine to her forearms and knees, his palms sliding along the taut lines of her body. As he moved behind her, the hard, hair-roughened texture of his legs intruded between hers, spreading them wide. She jerked at the touch of intimate hardness, a blunt stroke all along the open cleft. Moaning, she gripped handfuls of the sheets, waiting blindly. He lifted her h*ps into a high upward tilt as if she were a stretching cat.

They breathed in unison, hearts and lungs laboring. Without warning, he entered her in a demanding thrust. She writhed and backed up against him, her flesh throbbing reflexively around the insistent pressure. He set a relentless rhythm, every movement roughened with pure carnal feeling. Her inner muscles clenched and unclenched in the opposing tensions of pleasure and need. Another slippery-hard plunge, another, deepening until there was no part of her he hadn’t reached.