Smooth Talking Stranger (Travis Family #3)(55)

"Not anymore. You live here. And—" A short, gouging pause. "I don't want you to have sex with him."

At first I was more bewildered than angry. Jack seemed to have reverted to knuckle-dragging mode, which I had never seen before, certainly not with Dane. That Jack felt possessive, that he wanted a say in when I had sex or whom I had it with, was no less than astonishing. "You don't get to be part of that decision," I said.

"I'm not going to stand by while he takes what's mine."

"Yours?"I shook my head, letting out a helpless sound, something between a laugh and a protest. My fingers crept to my mouth and lay over it lightly, like a lace curtain on an open window. It was a painstaking process to collect enough words to reply. "Jack, my boyfriend is coming to visit me. I may or may not have sex with him. But it's not your business. And I don't like games like this." I took an extra breath, and found myself repeating, "I don't like games."

Jack's voice was soft, but it contained a savage note that caused all the hairs on my body to rise. "I'm not playing games. I'm trying to tell you how I feel."

"Got it. Now I'd like some space."

"I'll give you all the space you want. As long as he does, too."

"What does that mean?"

"Don't let him stay in that apartment with you."

I was being given orders. I was being controlled. Suffocating panic rolled over me, and I opened the car door, needing air. "Back off," I said. I climbed out and headed to the elevators, while Jack followed.

I jabbed my finger so hard at the elevator button that I nearly sprained it. "You see, this is why I will always choose Dane, or someone like him, over you. I will never be told what to do. I'm an independent woman."

"Chicken shit," I heard him mutter. His breathing wasn't any better than mine.

In a rage, I whirled to face him. "What?"

"This doesn't have f**k-all to do with independence. You're scared because you know if you start something with me, it'll go to a place you and Dane never went. He won't stand by you—he's already proved it. He went pu**y on you. And now he gets laid for that?"

"Shut up!" I had had enough. And I, who had never struck anyone in my life, hit the side of Jack's arm with my handbag, which happened to be a heavy leather hobo. It made a loud thwack, but he didn't appear to notice.

The elevator door opened, the empty cab shedding light over gray concrete and tile. Neither of us made a move to get in, just stood and glared at each other as the argument gathered force.

Taking me by the wrist, Jack hauled me around the side of the elevator bank, into a dark corner scented with exhaust and oil. "I want you," he muttered. "Get rid of him and take me. The only risk is losing someone you don't have anyway. He's not what you need, Ella. I am.

"Unbelievable," I said in disgust.

"What's unbelievable?"

"Your ego. It's surrounded by its own cloud of antimatter. You're a black hole of . . . of hubris!"

Jack stared at me through the shadows, and then he averted his face, and I thought I saw the white flash of a grin.

"Are you amused}" I demanded. "What the hell is so funny?"

"I was just thinking if the sex with you is one-tenth as fun as arguing with you, I'll be one happy bastard."

"You'll never find out. You—"

He kissed me.

I was so infuriated that I tried to hit him again with my bag, but it dropped to the ground and I lost my balance on my high heels. Jack grabbed me and kept kissing me, opening my mouth with his. I tasted warmth, the sweet permeation of a breath mint. . . I tasted Jack himself.

Despairing, I wondered why it wasn't like this with Dane. But the way Jack's mouth caught at mine, the firm damp articulation of each kiss, each succulent impact, was too insanely good to resist. He pulled me close and searched slowly with his tongue. The deeper he went, the more heavily I sagged against him, my entire body saturated with lust.

His hands went over my black suit, fondling and gripping lightly. My skin turned hot beneath the layer of delicate wool. He brought his fingers up to my face, stroking back my hair, and I felt a tremor in his hand, the vibration of intense desire. Reaching behind my head, he tangled his fingers in my hair and kissed me. I shivered as I felt his free hand working at the three fabric-covered snaps that held the front of my jacket together. The garment parted, revealing a stretchy cream-colored camisole, held up by two threadlike straps.

Jack muttered something—an imprecation, a prayer—and he reached beneath the camisole to find the soft, fine skin of my waist. We were both shaking now, too absorbed and ravenous to stop. He jerked the fabric upward to reveal private skin that gleamed eggshell-white in the shadows. His head bent to one breast, his mouth hunting for the tip. I drew in a hissing breath as I felt the sinuous glide of his tongue, a firm wet tug. Every pull and stroke sent a shot of pleasure to the pit of my stomach. I leaned my head back against the cold, hard wall, simmering, my h*ps writhing in a forward tilt.

Jack stood and took my mouth aggressively, his hand sliding over my breast. Long, erotic kisses . . . bites and licks of kisses, until I was drunk on sensation. My arms curled around his neck, pulling his head harder over mine, and he took the offering with a low, savage sound. I had never known such desperate excitement, wanting more, wanting to tell him, Do anything, anything, I don't care, do it now. I groped over the front of his body, the powerful muscles covered in a smooth elegant suit, and that excited me even more, the thought of what was beneath those civilized layers.