Jack snorted, and his shoulders heaved with silent laughter as he stepped back to lower me to my feet. Then he knelt down and pressed a kiss to my belly.

I inhaled and held my breath, my fingers tangling in his thick, wet hair.

When he looked back up at me, he was still smiling.

I watched, mesmerized, as he grasped the sides of my bottoms, and just as he had in the outdoor shower at Devon's, when I hadn't been able to watch him, peeled them down my legs. When they hit the floor, I stepped out of them.

As I looked down at him, he held my eyes. He seemed to be communicating some kind of challenge, maybe expecting me to call this off. Perhaps he felt nervous. I was. But there were other feelings that were a lot stronger. Running a hand back up my calf, he pulled my knee forward and then, when I still didn't stop him, hooked my leg over his shoulder.

Shock and arousal sent a startled whimper past my lips.

He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, then continued running his hand up the inside of my thigh. Okay, I didn't think I could watch this, but I sure as heck wasn't going to stop him from doing whatever it was he was thinking of ...

"Oh G.o.d," I whimpered as his fingers found my slickness and didn't even stop before sliding inside me. I closed my eyes, my head falling back and hitting the shower wall.

Jack's breathing was as quick and shallow as mine.

"Don't get shy about watching now, Keri Ann." Jack's voice was rough. I peeled my eyes open and looked down at the expression on Jack's face. I'd never seen a more desperate and restrained set to his mouth. It added a thick layer of intensity to the already building sensations that were spiraling through me at the drag of his finger, his thumb circling me.

My breath started coming in pants.

"f.u.c.k," Jack rasped. "I could come, just doing this to you."

His words shocked me, yet thrilled me at the same time. "So do it then," I breathed desperately. "I don't want to be feeling this on my own."

Jack groaned. "You're not ... I promise." He reached down with his free hand.

I willed my eyes to stay open. To watch him.

Oh my G.o.d. I didn't think I could ever see anything s.e.xier.

In. My. Life.

Then, with a sound like a starving man, he leaned forward and replaced his thumb, that had been dancing a rhythm over me, with his hot mouth and I shattered apart, gasping and shuddering against the tiled wall. I cried out as the sensations went on, a long wail, and I pressed against his mouth, my hands in his hair holding him against me. Wanting it to never stop.

"Oh, G.o.d, Keri Ann," Jack ground out, and his entire body jerked. My hands left his hair and I slid down the wall to join him on the floor, reaching to cover his hand with my own, to be a part of his release.

He grabbed my face, kissing me deeply, then we wrapped our arms around each other, holding our still heaving and convulsing bodies.

The shower water, now running cooler, poured over us.

Jack, in fresh shorts and a t-shirt, since he'd actually known we had a sleep over ahead of time, and me just in the fluffy white robe I'd found in the bathroom, made ourselves comfortable on the wicker love seat out on the front porch. We elected not to use the rocking chairs, as cute as they were, so that we could sit together.

We'd found chilled local shrimp and c.o.c.ktail sauce in the fridge, and we were now feasting on them, along with the champagne.

I felt heady and decadent and not entirely sure I wasn't in a dream.

Even though the sky was still light with leftover sun, we'd lit the hurricane jars and citronella candles that surrounded the deck in an effort to keep any early mosquitoes away.

"Thank you for sharing your journal pages with me," I said, broaching a subject I'd been meaning to get to. "What does taking the p.i.s.s mean? You said the rain there "takes the p.i.s.s"?"

He chuckled. "It's a British term for taking the mickey, or teasing. Like it's not really rain, it's just insulting you by pretending to be ..."

"Hmmm. It sounds like England is a tough place for you to spend time in. You seem ... darker there, than how you are with me. Here."

Jack took a sip of his champagne. The gla.s.s looked so delicate in his strong hand. He set it down on the table. "I am, there. But really, I have been like that for a while. I ..." he took a breath and looked at me with a strange lopsided grin, his brow furrowing as he tugged on the crown of his hair. "I'm no good at expressing this stuff. I know I seem different with you. I notice it too, but I feel more me than anytime else. Does that make sense?"

I shook my head slowly side to side.

"I guess you just make me believe that there's a world without bulls.h.i.t, where I can just be me. I'm so on guard everywhere else, so tense. About everything. In the world I live in, you can never take anything at face value. Every decision I make could be the one that tears down everything I've worked for. It could be a movie choice, but worse, it could just be a wrong place wrong time, or one bad word. One minute they love you, the next they hate you. There were times, in the early days, I took stuff, a line of c.o.ke, a pill or whatever just to be able to put my face out the door and be 'on.' Or a tranq just to fall asleep at night. It changes you."

My hand itched to touch him, so I rested it on his forearm.

He looked at it a few moments. "I spent a lot of time in England, trying to reconcile things that happened there with my father and who he was and ... why he burned me, and all the other ..." he winced, "s.h.i.t he did. I wrote a ton of stuff about it in that journal, nothing you needed to read, believe me. "But ... I've been turning it into something. Like a screenplay about him, who he was, what he did. I don't want to honor him or anything, or do anything with it, I just needed to see it laid out as if it were a movie, as if it were a script, so I could process it, you know? See it objectively. And know that without my past I wouldn't be who I am today."

"So in a way it was kind of good that you went? Like it was meant to be ... I think there were parts of you ... you needed to knit together."

He nodded and stared out toward the water.

"Even though I totally hated that you didn't tell me what was going on and didn't come back here, I get it."

Jack turned to me. "Come here," he whispered, taking my champagne flute and setting it down next to his. I shifted closer, but he slid an arm around my waist and hauled me astride his lap. My robe was large and tightly belted, but it could hardly survive that move and revealed a lot of thigh. Jack glanced down and swallowed. "s.h.i.t, didn't mean to do that. Now I'll be distracted."

I laughed softly and covered my upper thighs as best as I could. When I looked up, Jack was gazing at me seriously.

He reached a hand up and brushed a stray lock of my hair from my face. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything when it happened."

I blinked slowly. Then gave a single nod, accepting his apology, but waiting for more.

"I never left you for her. It wasn't her," Jack said softly. "I was in shock for a while, back then when I thought I was about to be a father. I just wasn't going to let a child of mine grow up without me. And I must have known deep down the kind of person Audrey was, that she'd never let me be fully in her child's life if I wasn't with her. I came here right after I found out she lied." He shook his head. "Remember I mentioned I ended up at that gallery on Hilton Head Island where you had that exhibit?"

"Yes, but you never said how." Or why you didn't come see me. It still hurt.

"Dumb luck, I guess. I saw a thing about it on the magazine I was given with the rental car. I drove straight there. Seeing that piece you did ... that wave ... really affected me. It was so beautiful and so painful to see. I realized how much being with me could hurt you."

I sat frozen, afraid even my breathing would stop him talking.

"Not just how much I obviously hurt you by what happened, but also that being with me, being seen to be with me could damage you professionally. Which is something I totally understand."

Shaking my head slowly, I wanted to argue, but he was right. It was a different take, but still the same issue I'd already voiced to him. About being with him as his girlfriend.

He put a finger to my lips, stopping me from making any objection. "I was already thinking about not seeing you for those reasons, and only those reasons, but I drove to Butler Cove anyway. I wanted to see you. Apologize or something, I didn't know really. Maybe be selfish and go after you anyway. And then Sheila called, she's my publicist, and told me about the pictures."

Just being reminded of the pictures sent my belly lurching violently.

"I was freaking driving toward you and seriously about to bring a s.h.i.t storm to town along with me." Jack shook his head and closed his eyes. "I couldn't do it. I turned around. I couldn't do it to you. And I literally promised not to go anywhere near you until the contract was done." He shifted, looking up at me.

I stared at him. I couldn't believe he'd been here, so close, and just turned around. My heart hurt. Even though he'd done it to protect me.

"Audrey also made some claims about my temper, saying she was scared of me. She was trying every angle. She had a video of me hitting Colt, and I'd lost my mind and punched the wall at my place when I found out about the pregnancy being fake," he added at my look. "The publicity would have been a nightmare if anyone thought the reason my hand was in a cast was because I ..."

I tried and failed to hold back a shudder. Yes, it would have been grotesque sensationalism. Jack Eversea in violent outburst with Audrey Lane.

My heart felt wounded for him. I just couldn't imagine someone deliberately hurting him, and worse, I couldn't bear the thought of what he must have felt to be so utterly betrayed. Reaching my hand out, I ran my fingers through his hair and skated my fingers around his neck to his jaw. Then his lips. His lips were so soft. Leaning forward, I kissed him softly.

He cleared his throat. "So Peak used that. They pacified Audrey by telling her they needed me on something out of the country. In England. G.o.d, I didn't want to take it. I didn't want to be back there. But my main contact at Peak said if I didn't take it, they might not back the Dread Pirate Robert's project. I'd already told Devon I'd do it, and we have other investors who'd pull out if Peak wasn't involved."

Jack took one of my hands and placed it on his chest. "And part of me wondered why you'd want to see me again anyway."

His shirt was warm and soft, and I could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath my fingers. "I thought of contacting you so many times, but I didn't know how. Can you imagine if you'd gotten a text or a phone call from me out of the blue? And what would I even say? Every day that went by, it became harder to even contemplate that as an option."

"It's okay, Jack," I whispered, because truly I didn't know what else to say. He was right, a random phone call from him would have made me mad as h.e.l.l. And even though I didn't like it, it all made sense to me, but unfortunately invited a few more unwelcome thoughts. "Are, are you going to be in a contract for the Dread Pirate Robert's movie?"

"They're going to try, I'm sure. But the female lead hasn't been cast yet, and I'll make sure she knows the deal about you and me."

"I'm probably going to need a firm 'no,' Jack." I raised my eyebrows.

He laughed. "Of course, it's a firm 'no.' No relationship contracts, period."

"So what is the deal about you and me?"

"You exist, therefore I am?"

I snorted a giggle. "Is that existential Jack talking?"

"No, it's real Jack. And real Jack has very real, like crazy, crazy, real feelings for you that might actually scare the s.h.i.t outta him a little."

I knew the feeling. "Why are they so scary?" I whispered.

The last colors had faded from the sky, allowing the candles to cast their warm glow and leaving Jack's eyes in shadow.

"Partly because I don't know that you want real Jack and his crazy life and everything that goes along with it." He returned. "And I'm not sure, going forward, how to keep that separate. It could still hurt you."

It was my biggest fear, too. A hurdle to tackle tomorrow when we headed back to reality.

At least we had tonight.

Jack and I talked for hours as stars pierced the sky above the now dark water, and continued talking as the full moon rose. At one point, I made to leave his lap, thinking he was probably uncomfortable, but his hands tightened on me. "Don't," was all he said.

So I didn't.

We talked more about his timeline for the movie, and he asked me all about the long process of getting into SCAD. I told him about my successes over the last few months and how it was hard to believe people actually wanted to see my stuff, let alone buy it. There were times when I felt like everyone was humoring me, maybe doing a favor to Faith who had been so supportive of me by putting me in her boutique and setting me up with my first gallery exhibit.

"Never lose your humility," Jack told me. "But you need to own your gift."

"I know. I'm not used to being so unsure of myself." I ran my fingers through his soft hair, feeling the languorous effect of the champagne. "There's only two things that have ever made me feel that way. My art and you."

"Your work is beautiful. And you don't need to be unsure of me," Jack whispered. His hands came to cup my cheeks and draw me down, pausing with his face inches from mine. His eyes, heavy lidded, were on my lips.

It occurred to me that the moment in s.p.a.ce and time before lips touch, the small exquisite sting of wanting, a beat of thirst, of yearning, was the most underrated part of kissing. There should be sonnets and epic poems written about the s.p.a.ce before a kiss, and the thrilling rush that comes with the moment of contact.

My mouth moved greedily, sliding, and grazing his captured bottom lip with my teeth, soothing it with my tongue.

A low sound rumbled through Jack, and his hands were no longer so gentle as they gripped me, seeking and kneading, finding my back, my thighs, pressing me closer and fumbling with the knot belting my robe.

Our breathing picked up pace, but not rhythm, as it labored between now deep kisses and heart-pounding want.

Jack's mouth slid down my neck, sucking at my skin, igniting my nerve endings in a flare that raced down to my toes. "I need to get you in a bed." His hand slid inside my robe, across the skin of my belly and around to my back, his movement baring me to him. One shoulder of the robe fell back. He drew away, his nostrils flaring, raking his hooded gaze over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and down to the juncture of my thighs as I sat astride him.

I reached down and undid the b.u.t.ton of his cargo shorts then pulled the zipper down, revealing the strained fabric of his boxers.

His mouth parted slightly, and I heard the sound of his dry swallow. "Like, now," he rasped.

"Are you going to do your caveman thing again?" I asked and giggled, because he was already moving to stand with me in his arms.

Wrapping my legs tight around his waist, I hung on as we dipped sideways through the door and nudged it closed behind us. I closed the curtains, one handed.

He backed up to the bed and sat down heavily. His mouth was instantly on mine again, and I lifted up and tucked my knees under me so I could take his t-shirt off and press closer. I wanted my skin against his.

The hard ridge of his arousal tortured me. I rocked forward, and he immediately responded, his hips bucking and pressing hard against my wet heat.

"G.o.d," he breathed out roughly, pulling his mouth from mine.

Shimmying back, my breath choppy and shallow, I dropped to my knees on the floor.

"What are you doing," he whispered, and the telltale flush across his cheekbones told me all I needed to know. His carved abdomen tensed.

"Getting you naked." I grinned and helped him take his shorts and underwear down. Then moved between his knees.

"This," he croaked and clutched the edge of the mattress, "may be the hottest thing ever. You realize I'm going to picture you sitting here like this whenever we're not together?"

"Just sitting here?" I raised an eyebrow, and then reached out and grasped him. "Not doing this?"

"s.h.i.t," he hissed, his skin flushing further.

I leaned forward. "Or this?" Out of the corner of my eye, I briefly saw his knuckles turn white as I took him in my mouth. I think he literally growled, and one of those white knuckled hands fisted in my hair as he surged up and moved with me. His reaction shot a bolt of reciprocal l.u.s.t straight down to the pit of my belly.

"f.u.c.k," he rasped. "I don't think I can do this." He pulled me up. "I won't last."

He fumbled in his discarded shorts pocket for protection then pulled me back astride his lap, kissing me deeply.

I throbbed with antic.i.p.ation.

"Take your hair down," he whispered. His hand ran up my spine then skimmed around to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, grazing over the sensitive peaks.

I gasped, arching forward, needing more, and getting it as his hands palmed and his mouth followed. He sucked me into his hot wet heat.

Shakily, I let my hair out of my bun, letting it fall damp and heavy down my back.