twenty
When I woke up, it was like Christmas morning. I was so excited that I began jumping on the bed, singing a happy tune much like “A Tisket, a Tasket”: “A shagging, a shagging, I’m going to get a shagging!”
From under the covers, Jack groaned. I poked him with my toe, standing over him in a victorious pose. “Hey, get up! I thought you said the shagging would begin today,” I said teasingly, using my toe to pull the covers down slowly. I revealed a creased forehead, knit-together eyebrows, glaring eyes, and a frowning mouth. As the reveal continued, however, I saw a strong chest, slim hips, my favorite trail this side of Appalachia, and . . . hello, lover! A Morning Missile. His eyes said no, but his wood said yes.
My eyes widened at the sight, and Jack arched his back as he stretched, making it poke farther at his boxers. I bit my lip. I couldn’t get sidetracked, or we’d never make it to Santa Barbara.
“Hey, George, let’s go! Get up!” I prodded him, humming my original shagging tune.
“Grace, stop it,” he said, warning me, trying to retrieve the covers from underneath my bouncing feet.
“George. George. George,” I chanted with each bounce. He glared at me again through sleepy eyes.
“Grace, I’m warning you.”
“And I’m warning you, man. You said you’d shag me today,” I repeated, bouncing harder than ever. The bed was squeaking inappropriately.
“I’m gonna spank you today if you keep that up,” he said. “Now seriously, stop all that bouncing about. I won’t tell you again.”
His eyes darkened as they looked at me now fully, standing over him in my white button-down, hair messed from sleep, eyes sparkling. I started to bounce again and he moved like a cat, catching me in midair, pulling my legs out from under me so I landed flat on my back, knocking the wind out of me. He straddled me while I struggled to catch my breath between giggles.
“Grace, you need to calm down. We can’t leave for Santa Barbara yet.”
“Why the hell not?” I asked, trying to fight him off. He would have none of it.
“First of all, because you haven’t packed,” he said.
“I plan on being naked most of the time,” I answered quickly.
“Secondly, the hotel won’t even check us in until noon.”
“We can do it in the car,” I quipped, trying to get my hands free so I could grab on to him. I was more persuasive when I could touch him.
He knew this, so he kept both of my hands high above my head, pinned to the bed.
“Thirdly, has it escaped your attention that it isn’t even six A.M.?”
I stopped cold. I looked at the window and noticed the sun had barely risen. The freaking birds weren’t even chirping. And I was bouncing on the bed like a madwoman singing about an upcoming shag. I looked back to his face, now fully awake and glaring down at me, but not without a hint of humor.
Gulp.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize how early it was. I guess I’m a little eager.” I grinned, feeling a blush start to creep in.
“Crazy,” he said, shaking his head at me. He pulled me up and pressed me close to him. I let my hands come up to his shoulders and hugged him tightly. We embraced for a moment, his hands tracing up and down my back. I breathed in his scent, amplified by his sleepy heat. Pipe tobacco, chocolate, and Hamilton.
“Is it crazy that I can hardly wait for tonight?” I whispered in his ear, my heart damn near beating out of my chest.
“Me either,” he whispered back. He pressed his lips to my cheeks and then my lips. “Now, Grace, for the love of God, can we please get a few more hours of sleep?” He sighed, pulling me back down with him.
“You can sleep, but I need to get packing. You still need to pack, too. What time should I get you up?”
“I’m already packed. My bag is in the car.” He yawned, tugging at my hair, trying to get me to lie back down next to him.
“You already packed? You mean we could have left last night?” I shrieked. He covered his ears.
“Grace, we’ll leave in a few hours,” he said, trying to placate me. “Pipe down, woman, and bring me those tits. You know I can’t sleep without a handful.” He succeeded in pulling me close enough to get ahold of me and I giggled, letting him slip his hands beneath my shirt as I tucked in next to him again.
His fingers roamed for a few moments, as was customary, sweeping across my nipples until they were sufficiently hard. He always did this until I sighed and arched into him a little before he settled in. He would sneak one arm under the pillow and me, and the other would drape under my arm, cupping me and pulling me tightly against his chest until I was in a Hamilton sandwich. His mouth would always return to mine for one last kiss, and then I usually got another one right behind my ear as his head nestled on the pillow behind mine.
There was one more gentle, contented hum, and then within a minute or two, I knew he was back to sleep. I lay quietly, surrounded by the man I hadn’t even known a month ago.
I couldn’t wait for that night . . .
I finally got his ass in the car by ten thirty. I had lain in bed until I knew he was sound asleep again, and then I quietly packed. I went into Holly’s room when I knew she’d be up and we powwowed briefly about what lingerie I should bring: slutty or sweet? I brought some of each.
I woke him precisely at nine, dragging the covers down and leaving him curled in a ball. He was a little grumpy this morning, but when I quickly flashed him a boobie, he got right up. Then he tried to get more—ahem—but I told him to conserve his energy, as he’d need it that night.
I hadn’t looked forward to an event as much since the New Kids reunion concert, and that was an all-time high.
We ate a quick breakfast at the house: cold cereal and fruit. I refused to spend any time cooking when we could be on the road. He ate with agonizing slowness, chasing his Honey Nut Cheerios around with his spoon. When he started having a conversation between himself and the leftover O’s, I took away his bowl and dumped it in the sink. He laughed and finally relented.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were stalling.” I shook a finger at him while he slowly sipped his juice.
“I’m not stalling, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Grace,” he answered, selecting his banana with uncommon diligence.
“I think you are stalling. Are you worried about tonight? Are you having a little performance anxiety there, big guy?” I asked, grabbing the banana and making obscene gestures with the fruit.
“I hardly think so. I’m just enjoying watching you squirm. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a bit randy,” he said teasingly, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Hell, I’m way past that. I need to get pounded, and you’re the guy who’s going to do it,” I said severely, pushing him toward the stairs. “I got a hole that needs fillin’, a field that needs plowin’, and a stocking that’s aching to be stuffed.”
He arched an eyebrow. “That’s very crude, love,” he said, chastising me, his eyes dancing with mischief.
“Now get the hell up those stairs, get in the shower, wash your kibbles and bits, and then drive my randy ass to Santa Barbara so you can make me see God,” I said as I forced him backward up the stairs. He laughed the entire time and finally went into the bedroom, still shaking his head.
That little fucker was playing with me. I decided I might have to drive.
We were driving up the coast, top down, shades on, music loud. It was another one of those perfect Southern California days: temperature in the midseventies, no clouds, and bright sun. The ocean was to our left as we drove along PCH toward Santa Barbara.
There was an open bag of Chex Mix between us and we passed Wheat Chex and melba toasts back and forth, enjoying our time together. Every so often the thought of leaving for New York would flit across my mind, but I firmly pushed it aside. We had limited time and I would spend every second of it in the here and now, loving this man next to me.
I was very skilled in the art of pushing things aside.
His right hand set up camp on my left knee. I had worn shorts for just this reason; any opportunity for his skin to touch mine was gladly accepted. I watched him as he drove, hair blowing, sunglasses on. He hadn’t shaved that morning because I hadn’t given him enough time to do so. I’d stood outside the shower while he was in there, threatening to flush the toilet if he didn’t get a move on. He’d tried to get me to shower with him but I steadfastly refused, knowing we’d be incapable of showering together without some hanky-panky.
His profile was stunning as always: strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, sweet lips. He caught me staring and his lip curved in that sexy smile I loved so much. “What’s up, Crazy?” he asked, bringing my hand to his lips for a kiss.
“Just watching you. I’m burning this into my brain. Us, together,” I answered, brushing back the hair from his face. “Jeez, I’m schmaltzy today!” I exclaimed, leaning back against the seat, tucking my legs beneath me.
“I don’t think so. I’ve been doing a little brain-burning myself. What am I going to do without my Nuts Girl?” he asked, sounding more serious than I’d expected.
“I know! Who is going to make you watch Golden Girls?” I said teasingly.
“Who is going to make sure all the shampoo is washed out of your hair?” he said, teasing me right back.
“Who is going to keep you stocked up on Fatburger?”
“Who is going to dump niblets in your knickers?” he said, deadpan.
“Whose boobies are you going to hold while you sleep?”
“Who is going to listen to you snore?” He chuckled.
“Hey, I don’t snore!”
“Fine, Grace, you don’t snore,” he said sarcastically, shaking his head.
We were both quiet for a minute.
“Seriously though, will anyone be listening to you snore? I mean, in New York? Do you think you’ll . . . I dunno . . . be snoring for anyone else?” He looked nervous but was covering well.
“Will you be holding anyone else’s boobies while I’m gone?” I asked quietly, immediately thinking of this Marcia.
“I asked you first,” he said.
“Well, I would like to make it clear that while I officially do not snore, the answer is no: I don’t plan on snoring with anyone else while I’m gone,” I said, nervous now myself. This was the first time we had really discussed where this was going.
He was quiet, and I could see his jaw relax. He’d been quite tense.
“And?” I asked.
“And what?” he asked back.
“What about you? And holding boobies? Will you be . . . holding . . . anyone else’s boobies?” I could barely breathe. This was a twenty-four-year-old guy who could have practically anyone he wanted. Could I really be asking him if he was planning on monkhood while I was gone?
Yes, you are, and he owes you an answer.
I waited.
“Grace, I can honestly say, with no second thoughts, that there isn’t another pair of boobies on the planet that I’d rather have in my hands than yours. Sleeping or otherwise,” he stated.
“Oh, baby, you say the sweetest things,” I cried in a sickly sweet voice, smacking his cheek with a wet kiss.
“Blech, don’t call me baby. You have enough nicknames for me already,” he said teasingly, crisis averted.
“Oh, suck it, Sweet Nuts,” I said, taunting him.
“Now, if Jessica Simpson happens to fall on me, and I have to steady her by holding on somewhere . . .”
I gave him a wet willy.
We laughed, and I hoped we could keep the promises we’d just made.
We pulled into Santa Barbara just after noon, and as the tiny streets wound through the trees, I realized where we were staying. The Four Seasons Biltmore was a famous resort, and I’d stayed there once when Holly and I first moved to California. It was Spanish in its architecture, with a classic Californian open feel.
We pulled around to the front, the valet got our luggage, and when Jack checked us in, I was pleased to find that we were staying in one of the cottages right on the ocean. I raised my eyebrow when I thought about the extra privacy this would afford us, and he winked at me.
“I wanted you to be able to scream as loud as you wanted to, Crazy,” he whispered, green eyes smoldering. I could feel my body warming just listening to him tease me.
“Will someone be making me scream?” I asked in my own whisper, pressing my lips to his neck, while the desk clerk coughed discreetly.
“Count on that, love,” he answered, his hand sneaking down to my bum and giving it a squeeze. I giggled in anticipation as the clerk handed over our keys.
We had just begun to make our way in the direction of the cottages, kissing deeply, when I heard a woman say, “Well, well, what have we here?”
I turned to see a pretty blonde, standing with a tall, brown-haired guy who obviously worked out a lot. They were both smiling at the two of us pawing each other in the lobby. Jack’s hand gave my bum one more squeeze and then broke away. He smiled back at them, shaking the guy’s hand and giving the girl a hug—one like you’d give your little sister.
“Lane, Rebecca, this is Grace,” he said, pulling me back against him as I shook their hands. They seemed to be eyeing me up and down in an amused way, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I immediately got the sense that they were approving, which was a nice change of pace.
“Gracie, you’d know them better as Isaac and Penelope.” The other two main characters in the film. Lane, I already knew I liked. He was grinning big. Rebecca was appraising me a little more carefully, woman to woman. She played the love interest in the film, and I was curious to see what their chemistry was like off of the set.
“It’s really nice to meet you. Are you staying here as well?” I asked, noticing that Lane was eyeing my chest appreciatively and giving Jack a high five.
Rebecca laughed kindly at the two of them and answered, “Yes. We have the photo shoot tomorrow, so a few of us decided to come up a day early.” She smiled a bit more warmly, and I got a gut feeling I was going to really like her.
“I don’t know why Hamilton was keeping you such a secret, Grace. You’re hot!” Lane blurted out.
“Thanks, Lane. I do have a pretty sweet rack.” I laughed as Jack blushed and shook his head at me, eyes closed. I could tell he was pleased I was getting along with his cast mates so quickly.
“So, what are your plans for the afternoon? We were just going to get some lunch. You’re welcome to join us,” Rebecca said.
Jack started to say, “Actually, we were going to get settled in our room—”
“We would love to come!” I interjected, smiling at both of them. It was my turn to stall now, just for fun.
We agreed to meet in the oceanfront restaurant in fifteen minutes. We said our good-byes and headed for our cottage. As we walked down the cobblestone pathway, Jack looked at me incredulously.
“What happened to not being able to wait for the shagging? I thought we were going to spend some time inside today,” he said, shifting my overnight bag to his other shoulder so he could tuck me into his side as we walked.
“I want to spend some time with your friends while I can. Besides, after how much you teased me this morning about my randiness, now I’m going to make you beg for it,” I said matter-of-factly as we walked up to the front door.
He looked at me carefully for a moment and then unlocked the door. He let me walk in before him, and I was struck by how lovely and romantic the cottage was. Fireplace, private patio, ocean view, and I could see a scrumptious king-sized bed beckoning from the bedroom. All of this I noticed in the seven seconds it took him to close the door, spin me around, lift me off my feet, and press me back up against the door.
His eyes burned into mine as he ravaged my neck with his tongue; the suddenness of his attack left me breathless. He bent his head and gently bit my earlobe.
“You want me to beg for it, Grace?” he whispered.
“Uh-huh,” I managed to say, beginning to lose focus. He forced my legs to open and wrap around his waist, and I could feel him grinding hard against me. A soft moan escaped me.
“I’m begging you, Grace. I’m begging you to let me kiss your sweet tits.” His tongue dragged from the top of my cleavage to the base of my neck. “I’m begging you to let me nibble on you.” He ground hard against my core, eliciting a louder groan from me. “I’m begging you to let me taste you.” He held me up against the door with the strength of his body alone, one hand snaking beneath my shorts and finding me instantly, pressing down hard. I gasped his name. “And I’m begging you to let me sink inside, to feel you wrap around my cock as you come over and over again,” he said, bringing me to the fastest orgasm I have ever experienced. I screamed his name, still pressed up against the door. The combination of his hand and the words he’d just spoken in that damnable accent was too much, and I came again, softer but more deeply than the first.
I loved me some Hamiltonian Dirty Talk . . .
He backed away, eyes almost black, licking his fingers. “Now we’ll see who’s begging later.” He smirked, watching my dazed expression change to one of determination. “Let’s go keep that lunch date you insisted on, love,” he said, putting his sunglasses on and grinning at me cockily.
“Gah,” I managed to say, eyes crossed and legs doing the shimmy-shake. This was going to be the longest day of my life.
We ate lunch with Rebecca and Lane, and I listened to stories about filming. It was interesting to see Jack with his friends. We’d spent so much time wrapped in our own little ball of bliss that it was nice to interact with others.
Jack told them with pride about my show in New York, and though his voice was tinged with a sadness only I would have noticed, he was unquestionably my biggest fan. When Lane asked how we were going to work a cross-country romance, Jack simply smiled, kissed my hand, and answered, “We’ll figure it out as we go.”
Rebecca obviously adored Jack and vice versa, and I felt good about leaving him with such a good friend. Lane had starred in a fairly major movie earlier in the summer, and there were already a group of women at a nearby table who’d recognized him. It didn’t take long before Rebecca and Jack were recognized as well, and the women finally approached the table after much giggling. Once there, Lane showered them with hugs. He really was a natural at this. Jack was a little more reserved, as always. He really wasn’t comfortable with his new fame but was taking it all in stride.
They discussed the photo shoot that was scheduled for tomorrow. It sounded like it would be good, but I wasn’t sure if Jack was expecting me to tag along. I felt that Rebecca and Lane would probably be fine with it, but I didn’t want to get in the way.
Jack kept his hand on my leg, on my arm, or in my hand the entire time. It was as if he hadn’t heard a word Holly had said about keeping a low profile, and I loved and hated him for it. I was the one who would be crucified by the fans if there were more pictures of me. He really had no idea what an impact he had.
As the women giggled away and out the front door, I excused myself to visit the ladies’ room. Lane was heading out to the lobby to take a call, so he walked me toward the front.
“So glad I got to meet you. You’re a cool chick.” He smiled.
“Yeah, yeah, I bet you say that to all of Jack’s girls,” I said, teasing him.
“Nope, you are seriously cool.” He left me to blush on the way to the bathroom.
Moments later, as I headed back to the table, I saw that Jack and Rebecca were deep in conversation. Stepping deliberately behind a potted palm, I listened in. I had no shame . . .
“Twenty-six? Twenty-seven? Is she older than twenty-seven?”
He shrugged, his eyes twinkling.
“How old is she, Jack?”
“I don’t actually know. She hasn’t told me, and I haven’t asked. I think around thirty, thirty-one maybe. I pinpointed it through all the Corey references.”
“Wow, she doesn’t look like she’s in her thirties,” Rebecca exclaimed. She was my new favorite person.
“You bet your sweet ass she doesn’t.” He chuckled.
“Dude, you should see your face. You’re like all glowy and shit! You’re such a girl!”
He laughed. “I have always been a girl—you know this.”
They joked for another minute, and then he told her our story. Where we met, how we met, everything. As I listened, I watched the way his face changed when he recounted something I said or something we had done. I shouldn’t have listened in, but I was glad I did. It gave me an interesting perspective into him and how he was feeling about me. I was falling more and more by the second.
“And now she got cast in this show, which is brilliant for her. But it’s in New York, and she is leaving in a few days. The timing just sucks.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair.
“But she won’t be there forever, right? And, honey, with all the press you’re about to do, you’ll be in New York all the time. Stop being such a pussy, Hamilton.”
He smiled at her. They seemed to be great friends.
“I know you’re right. It’s just, I can’t tell what she wants to do about all this. I mean, I dunno, she just gets me, and I think—no, I know she fancies me. But she’s getting ready to do this huge thing, it’s so important to her and for her career.”
“And you’re not? Jesus, this movie is going to make you a household name! Maybe this isn’t the best time for you to have a girlfriend,” she said, giving voice to my concerns. He was quiet at that.
Backing away from the palm, I reentered the restaurant, making enough noise with my flip-flops to alert them to my presence. Jack immediately grasped my hand, and I brought his fingers to my lips, kissing them gently. I simply adored him.
By the time Lane rejoined us and we finished with lunch, it was well past two thirty. Jack begged off on their offer of an afternoon sail, saying he’d made other plans for us. I raised an eyebrow as I was unaware that he’d planned anything.
As we left the restaurant, Rebecca pulled me into a hug. Surprised but pleased, I hugged her back. “I’m so glad to have met you, Grace. You have no idea.”
“You too. I’ll see you later?” I asked.
“Definitely,” she answered.
Lane wrapped me into a bear hug, and as I laughed, his hands began to travel down toward my bottom.
“Hey, man, get your hands off my girl.” Jack gallantly pulled me away.
“Jack, seriously, I can’t help it. That’s one fine woman,” Lane said teasingly, smacking me on my butt.
I jumped in surprise. “Next time you do that, I spank back,” I said, pinching Lane’s cheeks . . . the ones on his face. We said our good-byes and made our way through the lobby toward the spa.
“What’re we doing now?” I asked, curious.
“I booked us a couple’s massage. Nice, right?” he asked, nodding to the receptionist when we walked through the doors.
“Truly nice. You went all-out this weekend, Mr. Romance. But I told you, I don’t need all this. All I really need is you inside me, deeply,” I said in a whisper as the spa coordinator led us back to the couple’s suite. She gave us instructions on what to take off and what to leave on, if we wished, and then left us to disrobe. The suite was facing the ocean and we could see and hear the waves. I breathed in the salty air as Jack began to undress.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, Hamilton,” I joked, pulling my camisole over my head. I was wearing a new bra, one he hadn’t seen yet. White, lace, lots of cleavage.
Sweet and slutty.
His eyes darkened as always when he saw me almost naked, and I delighted in performing a little striptease. I slowly peeled my shorts off, turning to toss them on the chair to show off my white, lacy boy shorts, similar to the ones he’d shredded the night before. He was in the process of taking off his shirt but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw my hands go around back and unclasp my bra.
“Now, now, we’re getting massages . . . no funny stuff,” I said, scolding him, then slipped the bra down and tossed it at him. It hit him in the head and fell down over his face; he looked like he was in that scene from Weird Science. “But, the question is, do I leave these on or go ahead and take them off? Will I want her to massage me everywhere?” I slipped my thumbs under the bands on either side of my boy shorts, pulling them almost off, but not quite. The critical bits were still covered. “Hmmm, I just don’t know. What do you think, Jack?” I asked, pulling them a little lower, spinning to give him just a peek.
He quickly turned around, stripped his own clothes off down to his naughty bits, and dove under the blanket draped on his massage table. He pressed his face down into the pillow, and I could hear him groaning. I laughed, finished getting undressed, and slipped under the blanket on my table. We giggled for a few minutes, waiting for the massage therapists to come in, holding hands across the space between us.
For the next ninety minutes we relaxed, enjoying the treatment fully. Once we’d finished up, we dressed and made our way back to the cottage. I didn’t know what our plans were for the night and was happy to let Jack lead.
I felt nervous as we approached the cottage. Would we have the sex now?
Don’t you want to have the sex?
Yes, yes, of course. But would I have time to change into my sweetly slutty lingerie?
Jack made up my mind for me when we got inside. “So, I’m going to leave you for a bit to get cleaned up, and then I’ll be back. I made reservations for dinner tonight. How does that sound?”
“Here at the hotel, I hope,” I murmured, pulling him to me for a hug.
“Yes, here at the hotel. I figured it was safer that way. If you get a little randy at dinner, we have a place close by,” he said teasingly, his breath warm in my hair as he held me tight. I would miss this—the hugging, the banter, the back-and-forth that was Jack and Grace.
I pulled back a little to look him in the eyes. “Thank you,” I said.
“For what?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“For this weekend. It’s perfect,” I answered, kissing him softly.
He kissed me back slowly, lazily, fueling the fire that was always burning between us.
“You get a shower. I’ll be back for you in a little bit,” he whispered.
I sighed as I watched him leave, and then I began to prepare. I would be having hot hotel sex with Jack Hamilton before this night was through.
Thank God.
In the time it took me to get ready and Jack to come back from whatever he was doing, I managed to work myself into quite a frenzy. I was excited, nervous, frantic, frazzled, twitterpated . . .
Anything else?
Horny; crazy horny.
Damn straight.
I was wearing my favorite little black dress, cut low enough to show my cleavage, enhanced by sparkle. Jack now refused to let me wear something low cut without a dusting of shimmer. I had twisted my hair up high on my head, letting a few pieces fall here and there in a carefully constructed do that said, “It’s supposed to look like I just threw it up, but it really took me an hour.”
As I dabbed perfume in all the right places, it struck me that I hadn’t been this nervous when I lost my virginity. Tommy Jenson, eleventh grade. His parents’ basement on a blanket that smelled like camp. Young MC on the radio. It was quick and painful.
Ugh.
I was a Hamilton virgin, and I couldn’t wait to be deflowered.
Jack came to the bathroom door and knocked. He’d used the other one to get ready.
“Grace, you decent?”
“Pfft, like that’s ever stopped you before,” I said teasingly as I appraised myself in the mirror.
Hair? Nice. Makeup? Flawless. Skin? Glowing. Knockers? Up. Confidence? High.
I opened the door, and once again he did not disappoint, wearing a gray button-down, black leather jacket, black pants, and my favorite Doc Martens. And he was biting down on his lower lip . . . in an attempt to drive me crazy? Hell yes. I sighed and he sighed back at me, our eyes traveling over each other.
“Grace, did I tell you how sexy you are today?”
“Nope, tell me.”
“You are so sexy. It’s all I can do not to ravage you right here. Because I want you, Nuts Girl. I want you in the most desperate way,” he whispered as he pulled me to him.
“It does feel that way, doesn’t it?” I shivered as he kissed my neck.
“Let’s go eat the fastest dinner possible.”
“We’ll set a new record, George. Mark my words,” I stated, pulling him toward the door.
Once we were out of the cottage, I started toward the restaurant we’d had lunch in but Jack pulled me toward the waterfront.
“I arranged something a little more private for us. I hope you don’t mind.”
We walked across the gardens, the night perfumed thickly with jasmine and rose. We came upon a little pergola that had been set up with one table, two chairs, and a dozen candles that shone through the darkness. I could hear soft music playing, and I was delighted to see that while there was one waiter, there was no one else around. It was like our own little hideaway.
Who said romance was dead? I smiled at him, letting him lead me the rest of the way, and it was then I realized that I would follow this man anywhere.
Once seated, he opened a bottle of champagne and poured for both of us. He raised his glass and said with a sexy grin, “Let the seduction of Miss Grace begin.”
I laughed. “Love, you could seduce me with a Dr Pepper right now. There will be no playing hard to get tonight.”
He laughed, smiling at me in that way only he could. “I love how funny you are, Gracie.”
“I love how gorgeous you are to look at, George,” I responded, sipping my champagne and crossing my eyes at him.
“I love how you call me George,” he quipped, looking at me as if I was the most beautiful creature on the planet.
“I love that you let me . . .” I trailed off, suddenly emotional as I looked at him.
“I love that you’ve become so important to me,” he added, gazing at me from under heavily lidded eyes.
“I love that you are so totally wrapped up in my life now,” I answered, my heart thumping wildly. What were we saying? We both paused, and he seemed to be making a decision . . . but I wanted to say it first. I knew how I felt.
He breathed in one quick breath and then said, “Grace, I—”
The waiter returned with our menus, interrupting him. As he began to list the specials, I caught Jack’s eye and winked at him. He smiled back, that perfect smile that now belonged to me. He had my heart. I might as well take that damned sexy grin.
We ate dinner, laughing and teasing and talking about anything and everything. Even though we’d both said we were going to eat fast, we were enjoying it so much that before I knew it, the candles had burned low, the champagne (both bottles) was long since gone, and we were relaxed and fully happy.
We were alone, Jack having sent the waiter away eons ago. The stars overhead were bright. The waves were like a soft drumbeat punctuating the night.
“This was perfect, Jack. Just perfect. Thank you for such a wonderful evening,” I said, taking his hand.
“Now, hold on, Crazy. This night is just getting started.” H stood and pulled me to him. “I, for one, am ready to head back to our cottage . . . yes? Say yes, Gracie,” he said chidingly, his hand on my face, nodding my head for me.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I chanted, each word followed with a kiss to his neck, his ear, his chin.
“Hmm, that sounds familiar,” he said, winking at me. We walked back through the gardens, through the night, back to our cottage. I could see it glowing in the distance, and my skin began to warm as I thought of all the delicious things Jack would be doing to me in there, and all the things I would get to do to him, as well.
When he turned the key and unlocked the door, I gasped. There were candles everywhere, on every surface. They were all lit, and the effect was spectacular. I turned to face him as he shrugged out of his jacket.
“You wicked, wicked man. How did you do all this?”
“I’m a celebrity. We get things done in a big way, babycakes,” he said teasingly, running his hands up and down my back. The skin heated instantly with the electricity that always flowed so freely between us.
“And a fire in the fireplace? That’s impressive,” I said, walking backward into the room.
“Yeah, I saw it in a book about how to woo women . . . apparently you all like to be boinked in front of a roaring fire.” He laughed and I arched an eyebrow at the boinked.
The laughter slipped away as we really looked at each other. I kissed him chastely and whispered, “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
He smiled and answered, “Nothing could drag me out of here tonight.”
I shook my head to clear it and made my way to the bedroom. Once inside, I quickly grabbed my bag and went into the bathroom. I let my hair down. It was softly curled around my face. Then I looked at the two pieces of lingerie I’d brought. I never usually dressed for bed. It was pointless. For one, Jack preferred me in one of his shirts, and I agreed. Second, I was rarely dressed for very long anyway once I was in the bed, so it was almost silly.
But this night was different, and I wanted to wear something for him.
Option one: a black baby-doll nightie, which covered me just enough. Lacy and see-through, it was hot. I looked amazing in it, and I knew it would drive Jack wild.
Option two: a white silk nightgown. It had spaghetti straps and hit me just below the knee. It swept down low in the back, while the front dipped enough to give him a glance at his favorite attributes. This one would also drive Jack wild.
I made my selection, placed my hand on the door, then took a deep breath and walked out into the living room.