Naturally Naughty - Leslie Kelly [38]
Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so close to climaxing just from thinking about a woman. Considering Kate was all he’d thought about for weeks, maybe it wasn’t so surprising.
He still couldn’t believe she was here, not only here in this house, but in Pleasantville at all. From some of the things he’d heard, Kate and the rest of her family hadn’t been treated too nicely in the old days. He only hoped she wouldn’t hear any of the rumors about her mother while she was in town. He knew she couldn’t possibly be aware of the truth…if she were, she’d never have spoken to him once she found out who he was.
If she ever did find out, she’d hate his guts, thinking him just another snobby Winfield out to nail a trashy Tremaine.
Wrong. So wrong. He’d been fascinated by her, wildly attracted to her, dazzled by her, back when he didn’t even know her name. He didn’t remember another better sexual encounter in his life than the one they’d shared on the stage. Completely spontaneous, passionate, fulfilling. If her last name—or his—had been anything else, he would have spent every night since then in her bed. Guaran-damn-tee it.
And during each one of those nights, he would have worked to remove the sadness he sometimes saw in her eyes, and the anger he’d heard in her voice. Particularly tonight, next door, when her sarcasm hadn’t been able to disguise her hurt.
He made it his goal, then and there, to do exactly that. But not here, not in her mother’s house, in this town that sucked the soul right out of her. The only place he’d seen her truly happy, passionate and excited was at the Rialto. That was the Kate he wanted to seduce—but he had a feeling he wouldn’t find her again until they returned to Chicago.
And until Jack wiped the slate clean regarding his father.
In the meantime he’d control himself, keeping his libido firmly in check. “Yeah, right,” he muttered.
Just when he wondered if she was ever going to get out of the shower, he heard the water turn off. “Thank God,” he muttered.
The plastic rings clinked against the metal rod as she pulled back the curtain. Then silence, for one long moment, until he heard her voice. “Jack? You awake?”
Was he awake? How could he not be awake when three-quarters of his blood supply was centered in his groin? It was a miracle he hadn’t passed out from lack of blood flow to the brain.
“Yeah,” he said. Realizing he’d spoken in a whisper, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, Kate, did you need me?”
“I don’t have a towel.”
No towel. Perfect.
Tempted to tell her to stay in there and drip dry—quietly—until he could get control over his raging libido, he sighed and sat up in the bed. Throwing back the sheet, which had felt cumbersome and heavy against his naked body anyway, he reached for his sweatpants. He couldn’t find them.
“They’re too hot, anyway,” he muttered in disgust. Instead, he grabbed a pair of gray boxer briefs and tugged them on. It wasn’t as if the woman hadn’t seen him naked already.
They were uncomfortably tight. Too damn bad.
Walking out of the bedroom to the small linen closet out on the landing, he grabbed the top two towels on a stack and knocked on the bathroom door. “I’ve got two for you, just in case.”
“Great. I don’t have a robe, so I can wrap up in one.”
Jack gritted his teeth.
“You can leave them on the counter,” she continued.
Pushing the door open several inches, he reached in, intending to drop the towels and go. The shower was behind the door, no way would he see anything. He figured she was hiding in there, fully covered by the flowery plastic curtain, and certainly didn’t consider trying to sneak a peek. He was already horny enough, thanks so very much. Even a glimpse at her naked body behind the curtain could have him coming in his briefs.
Jack hadn’t counted on the mirror. As he dropped the towels, he glanced up and met her eyes in the reflection. The cold air from the hall had seeped in when he opened the door. Where it met the