"I got the impression you liked it."
"You looked good. But to me? You always look good. Then. Now."
"I could wear dirt and smeared makeup more often if you'd like."
He laughed softly. "Can if you want." He sobered. "I just meant I know you dressed up. For tonight. Should comment." He paused. "That doesn't sound right. Fuck. I'm no good at--"
I grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him into a kiss, and this time there was no surprise, no hesitation. Hell, there wasn't even a moment of transition. I kissed him and it was as if we'd only pushed pause in the park. Two seconds later, I was up against the side of the elevator, his hands under my ass, mine in his hair.
In the rare times that I'd dared let myself imagine what it would be like to be with Jack, I'd had a pretty clear idea of what to expect. Sex with Jack would be like Jack himself. Slow, measured, cautious. Hell, no. It was like driving a pipeline straight into that intensity boiling under the surface.
"How far's our room?" I gasped when we broke for air.
"Too far."
I glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "There is a stop button."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He reached over and hit it. I laughed, and as we kissed again, my fingers slid between us, and I started to unbutton his shirt as he hiked my skirt up--
The elevator phone began to ring.
"God-fucking-damn-it."
"Agreed," I said.
Jack swung toward the phone like he was ready to shoot it. I reached over and hit the button to restart the elevator.
"Two minutes," I said. "In two minutes, we'll be locked in a room where no one can interrupt us."
When the doors began to open, Jack gave them a hand. There was a moment at the room door when the key card didn't want to cooperate--Jack took advantage of the pause to slide his hand under my skirt--and I began to wonder if we were going to make it into the room after all. But the door thankfully opened and we stumbled in.
As I flipped on the light, I realized Jack had managed to get us a suite again, which meant there was a separate bedroom, which was lovely . . . and much too far away at the moment.
Jack swung me up against the armchair, and I eased up onto the low back, legs wrapped around him. It was a bit of a balancing act, but hey, all that exercise does pay off.
We managed to kiss for about five seconds less than the last time before he had my skirt up and I was undressing him. Foreplay--like the bed--could wait for next time. Even the simple act of undressing seemed like too much work. I popped two buttons on Jack's shirt and the one on his trousers was left hanging by a thread. The ripping sound I heard as he pulled off my dress suggested I might not be wearing it again. And while I'd taken great care in picking out a matching bra and panty set, I don't think Jack noticed. The bra was off in seconds--after some cursing with the clasp--and the panties where about to follow when he stopped.
"Shit!" His eyes widened. "I didn't bring . . ."
"Let me guess . . . You weren't expecting the evening to end this way."
"Fuck, no."
I laughed, pulled up my panties, and crossed to where I'd dropped my purse. "Luckily, I know this guy who's taught me that I need to be prepared for every contingency . . . even if he apparently isn't."
He exhaled a deep sigh of relief as I pulled out a condom. I laughed. As I did, he stopped, as if just seeing me. His gaze traveled over me.
"Fuck."
I nodded at the bra on the floor. "Yep, a matching set. Like I said, I was prepared for every contingency."
"Didn't mean the underwear," he said, and crossed the space between us, swooping me down onto the floor.
We did make it to the bed. After we were done. Better late than never. As we lay there, Jack on his back, me curled up against him, his arm under me, I looked over and said, "There's something I need to tell you. I know you aren't going to like it."