Scandalous (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The rest of the night passed in bliss and we slept until the sun was high in the sky. Jack was certain of us, of me, that he didn’t push some angelic creature off a cliff. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea that I was his—body, mind and soul. We were eating take-out from the Chinese place later. I pushed around a dumpling, trying to grab it with chopsticks and failing while Jack was saying, “You’re amazing.” His tone had taken that bedroom voice of his again.

“Ah, yes. My ability to repel dumplings with a stick is quite a feat. Wait until you see me with seafood. Julia Roberts has nothing on me, well, in terms of shell fish shooting off my plate. I’m guessing her hooker character was better in bed.” I grinned at him, and finally just stabbed the dumpling with one of the chopsticks. I lifted it to my lips, but stopped
when I saw Jack staring. “What?” The food hovered, as I looked at him quizzically.

“I would have never thought you were a virgin,” he blurted out.

The dumpling slid off my stick and bounced across the table. We both watched it slide into a white carton before resuming eye contact. “What?” I asked, shocked he’d say such a thing.

“Okay, so now wasn’t the best time to bring it up, but you were the one talking about hookers and slamming yourself. Abby, you’re the best I’ve ever been with.”

I laughed, pointing the empty chopstick at him, “Uh huh.” I didn’t believe him. Actually, I believed he was trying to spare me my feelings. “Tell me why that is?”

Jack leaned across the table, taking my hands, pulling me toward him. When I gazed up at him, he said, “Because you don’t hold back. You said what you meant, and moved how you felt. You have no idea how sexy that is, how much power that gives you over me. Abby, I nearly came watching you strip. When you added the paint I was frozen. The last thing I wanted to say was no. If that’s what you do when you’re a virgin, I can’t wait to see what you do later.” He grinned wickedly at me, squeezing my hand
once and releasing it. Eyeing me from his seat he added, “And I know you’re sore. I promise I won’t touch you for the rest of the day.” I squirmed, wondering how he could tell. He glanced up at me, “Well, I won’t touch you there. It doesn’t mean we can’t have fun doing other things.”

My breath caught in my throat. Suddenly I wasn’t very hungry. Staring at him, I asked, “What other things?”

“Your curiosity is dangerous, Tyndale,” he replied grinning.

Tilting my head, “Your evasion was noted, Gray.”

“Eat your food, Abby. You’re going to need your strength.” He winked at me and I flushed. Heart pounding in my chest, I felt my sore girl parts perk up—ready for more Jack Gray.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The canvas from the sex painting was still wet. Jack hung it on the wall, letting it dry. Hands on his hips, he stepped back admiring it. My stomach fluttered a little when I looked at it. Okay, it fluttered a lot and made me tingle in all my girlie places. It was hot. To everyone else it looked like one of Jack’s works gone more abstract, but to us, it meant something else.

It was a beginning.

Perched on a tabletop, I sat swinging my legs and staring at Jack’s ass. I didn’t realize I was doing it until he glanced over his shoulder to ask me a question. His arms were folded against his chest as his eyes shifted, full of mischief and lust—like mine. My lips pursed when he saw me. I was going to deny it, but shrugged instead, and said “You’re easy on the eyes, Gray. What do you want me to say?”

“Did you always ogle me so openly and I never noticed?”

I laughed, hanging my head, my hair falling forward. I flipped my hair back as he walked over to me, a sexy grin on his face.
“At times.
It’s hard not to admire you when you’re standing so perfectly.” That thought brought a question to the front of my mind. “Is that what you meant by saying I was all shapes and lines?
Shadows and light?
Was that to conceal your lusting eyes from me?”

He laughed, “They weren’t concealed, and if you knew what I was thinking that night, you wouldn’t have come back.”

“Why’s that? What hideously kinky thoughts were you thinking?” His words
peaked
my curiosity. I slid off the table and stepped in front of him, looking into his eyes, knowing there were only a few days of this left. Only a handful of days before everyone
was
back at the studio.

He
sighed
a ragged breath, running his fingers through his hair. Damn, he was hot. Every mannerism he had made me
want
him more. My tongue touched my top lip as I watched him. “Abby,” he groaned, throaty and raw—the same way he said my name last night. “You’re killing me.”

I hadn’t realized what I’d done until Jack seemed to melt in front of me. He grinned, his eyes dark and needy as they slid over me. Slipping his hands around my waist, he yanked me up against him. I could feel him stiff and ready. I gasped, “Jack.” He pushed me away, as if teasing me, tempting me.

Shaking his head, he said smiling, dimples showing, “We’re going to have to make up for missing ten years of sex in a couple of days, aren’t we?” I blushed, looking up at him through lowered lashes, but I very much liked the sound of that. “Damn, Abby. I’m the luckiest man alive. Ten years of sex in two days.” His body tensed as his gaze slid over me, lingering on my breasts, noticing my nipples showing through my tee shirt. The bottom of my stomach fell when he looked at me like that. I was sure I was wet again.

I nodded, “Sounds fine by me.”

He whispered in my ear, his hand sliding over the curve of my breast while he spoke, “It’ll be better than fine. You’ll be so sated, so wonderfully satisfied that you’ll be sore for a week.”

“Then do it, painter boy. Show me what you want, what you like.” I tilted my head to the side, hair falling away from my face. “Jack, what are we waiting for? If I’m going to be sore anyway, why wait?” I was
seriously asking. I didn’t know much about this. I’d always tried to tame my sexuality, and subdue the urges of the flesh. And right then, my urges wanted our flesh naked, sliding together.

Taking me by the face, Jack thrust his fingers into my hair, tugging gently as I spoke. His eyes grew darker as his breathing slowed, becoming deeper. “You undo me, Abby. I’m completely lost, and want to give you anything and everything you ask for, but there’s one thing I want.”

My lips were close to his, “What’s that?”

“I want to take you, be with you without worrying that I’m hurting you.” He ran his fingers through my hair, his hot hands sliding against my cheek.

“Didn’t you do that already? Last night?”

He nodded, “That’s part of the reason you were sore. It was too soon.” Disappointment must have been visible on my face. Kissing my lips softly, he said, “There are other ways to be together. Other things to do that are just as sexy. Abby, let me give you today my way. Let me show you other things, things you may like just as much as feeling me inside of you.” The heat that pumped into me as he spoke made me lose my ability to speak. I nodded, agreeing to his proposal.

He smiled, “Promise me one thing, though. No matter what we do today, no matter how hot you get, don’t ask me to fuck you because I won’t be able to tell you no.” Biting my lower lip, eyes locked on his—mesmerized—I nodded.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Jack was on a ladder, unstrapping his camera from the ceiling. I was going to be the object of his adoration in a photo shoot. The idea made me nervous and excited at the same time. To distract myself from the butterflies swarming in my stomach, I asked, “What are you doing about your business leak?”

Not turning to look down, he continued to untwist the screws that clamped the camera in place. “Well, I’ve discovered that I’m completely in love with the main suspect, and that there’s no way in hell she did it. However, I can’t use the deductive reasoning I used with her on everyone else.”

I snorted, “I should hope not. Gus would file a sexual harassment claim in a heartbeat.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Gus is a
partner,
he’d be filing the claim against himself if he did that.”

My lip curled, “Yuck. Let’s not talk about what Gus does to himself.” I was joking, and it was way
more raunchy
than the things I usually said. Where the hell did that come from?

Jack snorted, nearly dropping the camera, “What’s gotten into you? You go from being a nun to a...”

“To a what, Jack?” I grinned, coaxing him on.

“To a seductress, Abby.
To a foul-mouthed seductress with a dirty mind.”
He shook his head, smiling hard, “I’m so lucky.”

Getting back on track, I asked, “Well, what about it? How’d Belinda get your contact list?”

“I don’t know yet. There’s no paper trail. I went through emails, notes, and tons of stuff—there’s nothing. No outbound calls to her number either. I haven’t found anything, Abby, which is a problem. It means she either hacked in, or the person that’s helping her is so far beyond reproach that I’d never suspect them. In the meantime, it breaks apart the studio, and alienates my staff as I lose each and every one of you. Who’s going to stick around after being accused of something like that?”

Feeling impish, I offered, “I did.” He glanced down at me, stopping what he was doing.

“You’re different. You’re not like them; you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met, Abby. You think with your heart, no matter the cost.” He stared at me for a moment, his eyes locking onto mine. I’d always thought of that as a flaw, one-hundred percent effective way to die as a martyr, but Jack looked at me like it was something valuable—something to be admired. He broke the gaze, smiling faintly before pulling the camera down in his hands. Slowly, he crept down the ladder, one rung at a time with a costly piece of equipment in one hand, the other making sure he didn’t drop twenty feet to the floor. Jumping off the bottom step like a little boy, he sauntered toward me, camera in one hand, and a sexy grin on his face. “I want to show you what I see when I look at you. It’s not the girl you see in the mirror, and I can tell that you don’t really know what I mean. Do you trust me Abby? Will you pose for me? Wear what I ask? Do what I ask?”

If he said,
Would
you do striptease for me, here’s a boa,
I would have laughed and hit him in the chest. But this request was so sexually charged. It felt like he was devouring me with his eyes. That gaze crushed the air out of my lungs, rendering me unable to speak. Deep within my body, things clenched in that
delicious way that made me feel like his seductress. I nodded, “I’ll try,” I whispered.

A stern look shadowed his face, “No, there’s not trying. You either will or you won’t.” His eyes gleamed, locking onto mine with an intense need. It made me nod without thinking. I didn’t know what he liked, and I sure as hell wanted to know what he saw when he looked at me. Was that something that he could capture with a lens? I didn’t know. “Say it,” he whispered, firmly telling me to speak.

“Yes. I’ll do it. I want to see what you see.” My eyes drifted from his perfect lips to his intense eyes. I breathed, “I trust you, Jack.” My heart was racing in my chest as his expression softened. The man that was looking at me a moment ago was part of the Jack that I didn’t know—the one who’d been burned. He didn’t mess
around,
he wanted direct, firm, decisions, and nothing less. When he turned away, he placed the camera on a table top and said he’d be right back.

Moving toward the large black square, I lifted the camera off the table. Fumbling with the buttons, I wondered if the photos from the shoot with my first painting were still on it. I found the right buttons, and clicked them hoping to see something from that night. The canvas was covered on the wall. Jack concealed it, telling me he wanted me to wait until he
was done to see it. Looking at the camera was totally cheating. A small thrill coursed through me as I clicked the button, expecting to see the fluffy skirt and my naked chest covered in paint, but the screen was black. I frowned.

Jack whispered behind me, making me jump, “I took the card out—and you’re a horrible snoop. You aren’t supposed to get caught.” He gave me a look that made me smile sheepishly as he ripped the camera out of my hands. “It’ll be the best painting I’ve ever made. Give it time, Abby. Let me finish it.” He
smiled,
his expression warming. I didn’t understand why he was being secretive, why I was denied seeing the process, but I didn’t press him.

Jack had placed the camera on the table behind him. There were several thin boxes that he had brought back when he snuck up on me. I reached for the lid, but Jack swatted my fingers away. “Not yet,” he laughed. “Go change. I hung up the skirt you wore—the one I painted—it’s in the dressing room. Put that on and come out.”