“Stop it,” she said, and lost control of her tears. She hated him. She loved him. She wanted him to stay as badly as she wanted him to go. He’d been crude and cruel, but he’d been right. She was terrified he’d touch her, and afraid he wouldn’t. She was afraid to take what she wanted, scared he’d make her miserable and unhappy. She was already miserable and unhappy. There was no way she could win. He was like a drug, an addiction, and she was hooked. “Don’t do this to me.”
John wiped a tear from her cheek and let go of her hand. “I want you, and I’m not afraid to play dirty.”
She had to cut herself off from John, quit cold turkey. Check herself into rehab. No more hot kisses or touches or hungry glances. She had to get tough. “You just want a piece of… of…”
John shook his head and smiled. “I don’t want just a piece. I want it all.”
Chapter Nineteen
John looked into Georgeanne’s eyes and chuckled silently. She was trying to be tough but couldn’t even bring herself to say the word “ass.” It was just one of the thing that fascinated him about her. “I want your heart, your mind, and your body.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. “I want all of you-forever,” he whispered, and wrapped his arm around her waist. Her palms flattened against his chest as if she meant to push him away, but then she opened her soft mouth, and he felt a triumph so sweet it nearly sent him to his knees. He craved her body and soul, and he lifted her onto her toes and fed his hunger. Within seconds the kiss became a carnal feeding frenzy of mouths and tongues and hot, hot pleasure. John unzipped the back of her dress, then reached for the shoulders. He pulled down the dress, and the thin straps of her slip and bra, stripping her to her waist. Her arms were pinned to her sides, and he drew back to view her plump, naked breasts spilled toward him like his personal vision of heaven. He wrapped one arm around her waist and he lowered his face and placed a soft kiss on the very tip of her left breast. His tongue licked the puckered flesh and she moaned. She arched toward him, and he sucked her nipple into his mouth. Georgeanne struggled to free her arms, but he held her tight.
“John,” she moaned. “I want to touch you.”
He loosened his grasp and moved to suckle her right breast. He was ready. He’d been ready for months. The ache in his groin urged him to shove her against the wall, pull her dress up to her waist, and bury himself deep inside her hot, wet body. Now.
She freed her arms from the tangle of straps and pulled his shirttails from his pants. John straightened and looked into her drowsy eyes. Before he could give in to his urge and take her right there by her front door, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the rear of the house. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asked as he moved down the hall. “I know there’s one here somewhere.”
“Last door on the left.”
John entered the room and stopped dead in his tracks. The bed had a floral quilt and a lace canopy. A half dozen or so frilly pillows were tossed against the headboard. Flowers were printed on the wallpaper and on the fabric of the chairs. A big floral wreath hung above one dresser, and two vases of flowers sat about the room. He’d just stepped into girly central.
Georgeanne walked past him, holding her dress to her breasts. “What’s wrong?”
He looked at her, standing there surrounded by flowers, attempting to shield herself with her hands, and failing miserably. “Nothing, except you’re still dressed.”
“So are you.”
He smiled and stepped out of his shoes. “Not for long.” Within seconds he’d stripped down to nothing, and when he returned his gaze to Georgeanne, he nearly exploded. She stood just beyond his reach, in nothing but a pair of skimpy panties and two stockings secured at her thighs with pink garters. His gaze moved from the enticing expanse of thigh just above the garters to her full hips. Her breasts were beautiful and round, her shoulders smooth, her face gorgeous. He reached for her and pulled her against him. She was hot and soft and everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. He meant to go slow. He wanted to make love to her, to prolong their pleasure. But he couldn’t. He felt like a kid running toward his favorite playground, unable to stop; the only thing holding him back was his own indecision over where to play first. He wanted her mouth, shoulder, and breasts. He wanted to kiss her belly, thighs, between her legs.
He pushed her onto the bed, then rolled with her on top. He kissed her mouth and slid his hands down her back to her behind. He wrapped his fist in her panties and yanked them down her legs. His erection pressed into her smooth stomach and he ground it against her. The tension in his groin pulled tighter, tighter, until he thought he might explode.
He wanted to wait. He wanted to make sure she was ready. He wanted to be a tender lover. He rolled her onto her back and forced her panties from her legs. He sat back on his heels and looked at her, naked except for a pair of nylons and two garters. She raised her arms to him, and he knew he couldn’t wait. He covered her with his body, hips cradled between her smooth thighs, and he placed his palms on both sides of her face. “I love you, Georgeanne,” he whispered as he looked into her green eyes. “Tell me you love me.”
She moaned and slid her hands down his sides to his buttocks. “I love you, John. I’ve always loved you.”
He plunged deep inside her and realized immediately he’d forgotten a condom. For the first time in years, he felt enveloped in hot fluid flesh. Desperately he fought for control while the need for her clawed at his gut. He pulled back, thrust again, and they both shattered in a reeling climax.
It was three in the morning before John slipped from her bed and began to dress. Georgeanne secured the sheet around her breasts and sat up to watch him button his pants. He was leaving. She knew he didn’t have a choice. Neither of them wanted Lexie to know he’d spent the night. Still, her heart ached at his leaving. He’d told her he loved her. He’d told her many times. It was still a little hard to believe. Hard for her to trust the joy she felt deep inside.
He reached for his shirt and shoved his arms into the sleeves. Tears stung the backs of her eyes and she blinked them back. She wanted to ask him if she would see him again the next evening, but she didn’t want to appear grasping and greedy.
“You probably won’t want to go to the arena early,” he said, referring to the hockey tickets he’d given her earlier. “Lexie will have a hard enough time sitting through the game, without getting there for the early stuff.” He sat on the edge of the bed and put on his socks and shoes. “Dress warm.” When he was finished, he stood and reached for her. He pulled her onto her knees and kissed her. “I love you, Georgeanne.”
She didn’t think she would ever tire of hearing him say those words to her. “I love you, too.”
“I’ll see you after the game,” he said, and dropped one last kiss on her lips. Then he was gone, leaving her alone with Virgil’s warning plaguing her brain and threatening to destroy her happiness.
John loved her. She loved him. Did he love her enough to give up his hockey team? How could she live with herself if he did?
Blue and green floodlights circled the ice like a swirling cauldron while a half-dozen scantily clad cheerleaders danced to ear-popping rock music pumped from the sound system at the Key Arena. Georgeanne could feel the heavy bass thud in her chest and wondered how Ernie was doing. She looked over the top of Lexie-who had her hands over her ears- to John’s grandfather. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the loud noise.