An Irresistible Bachelor(44)

Shifting in her chair, she noted that he seemed content to wait her out.

"My wine first," she prompted, tipping her glass forward.

He poured and then looked at her directly. "So?"

She shrugged. "There's nothing to tell."

"Or nothing you want to share."

"The end result is the same, isn't it? "

"You are so damn elusive," he muttered. "Getting information from you is like pulling an oak out of the ground with a shoestring."


She had to smile. "Interesting way of putting it."

"You frustrate the hell out of me."

"So maybe you should give up."

He shook his head, looking at her through his dense eyelashes. The hazel in his eyes burned. "Sorry, Callie. I'm not that kind of a man."

She pushed her wine away abruptly and stood up. "It would probably be better for us both if you were."

When she made a move to go past him, he reached for her hand. His grip was warm. Urgent. "Don't go."



She knew if she looked into his eyes she'd be lost, so she stared at one of the candles, watching the flame undulate slowly. The air seemed to have suddenly thickened and her lungs felt tight.

"I really wish you hadn't kissed me," she murmured.

The bold statement was followed by an absurd urge to smack her palm over her mouth.

"Tell me," he said softly, "are you looking for another apology for what I did? Or is it because you can't quite get how it felt out of your mind?"

Through the candlelight, his voice drifted up to her, embracing her.

She tried to take a deep breath. Her heart couldn't seem to decide between beating triple time or stopping altogether.

Warily, she looked into his eyes. Crazy things started to swirl in her mind, like images of herself leaning down toward him.

She watched his gaze go to her lips. As his eyes darkened to a near black, she had the sense that he was as conflicted as she was.

Callie shook her head, trying to get her hand back. When he didn't let go, she stopped and asked, "What are we doing here?"

"I wish to hell I knew."

And then he got to his feet and pulled her to him.

Putting his hands on either side of her face, he bent his head and she closed her eyes, lifting her mouth for his loss even as she told herself it was wrong.

He already had a woman. A fiancée. This was all wrong.

Still, when the kiss didn't come, she was bitterly disappointed.

She lifted her lids. He was poised, inches from her lips, his eyes burning. But he came no closer.

Riding a wave of insanity, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down so she could kiss him. He resisted for a split second and then crushed her to him so they were hip to hip, chest to chest. His mouth was hungry on hers, his tongue sliding between her lips, his hands digging into her hair. She moaned and leaned into him, feeling the length of his body against hers, so solid and strong.

"God, help me," Jack groaned while he pulled her shirt free and slid his hands onto her bare skin. "You feel too good."

He pressed her up against something, maybe the wall, his hands coming around to her stomach as he kissed her neck. His lower body was grafted onto hers, the hardness of him pressing into her and she only wanted him closer. Naked. Inside of her. She held onto his shoulders with all her strength as he slowly moved his palms upward to her breasts. He spanned them with his hands, cradling the sides in his palms, but he didn't actually touch them. She strained against him, wanting more.

With a moan, he stopped kissing her and rested his head on her shoulder, breathing heavily. The sound rushed in her ear, as loud as the screaming in her blood. As he struggled for self-control, she didn't know whether to be grateful or not.

"This isn't right," he said roughly. "We shouldn't be doing this."



But then his thumb moved over to her nipple. It was the gentlest of brushing, but it made her want to cry out in triumph and need. She arched back, trying to give him more room, and found herself in full contact with his erection.

Abruptly, he pulled away and put the distance of the kitchen between them. She stared in shock at the retreat, wondering what had made him stop, as shame cut through her sensual fog.

But then his mother walked into the room.

Callie tried to gather up her composure, to look something other than thoroughly kissed and achingly frustrated in front of Mrs. Walker. Heading back to her chair, she surreptitiously pulled down her shirt, glad that the woman tended to ignore her presence.