Heidi Rice - Back in His Bed - Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks! / Unfinished Business with the Duke / How to Win the Dating War

He was too close. She could count his eyelashes, smell the faint scent of his soap. The concern was still there in his face, but it was tempered by something else. The something she’d spent the last hours trying to convince herself wasn’t actually there. All the rational pep talks she’d given herself spun away and she felt dizzy.

“Bren…” Jack whispered as he moved another inch closer to her. His fingers twined in hers, and he pulled her hand up to his mouth and traced her knuckles with his lips. “Come back to the house with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” Jack’s lips snaked across her wrist. Her eyelids felt heavy as they slid shut.

“You’re right,” he murmured, and her heart sank. This was it. She’d known it was coming. It was for the best.

Then why did it hurt like hell?

He closed the last bit of space, the notebook she still held against her chest the only thing keeping her from being pressed completely against him. She could feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat against her hand. But the words she was bracing herself for didn’t come. Instead, his mouth landed on the sensitive skin of her neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Remembering how that sound you make just before you come echoes in this room.”

She remembered, too. In blinding detail. The contrast of the cool steel against her back and the hard heat of Jack against her chest and between her legs. Liquid heat pooled in her stomach, and she dropped her notebook in shock. Jack took advantage of both, pressing his body completely against hers and leaning her against the closest tank. Her gasp echoed off the tanks, and she felt his lips curve into a smile at the sound.

Her fingers closed around the soft cotton of his shirt, bracing herself as his free hand slid over the small of her back into the waistband of her jeans. The warmth of his hand after the chill of the tank had her gasping as he pulled her closer still and covered her mouth with his.

The first time Jack had kissed her, they’d been in this room, not far from where they were now. The kiss had left her so dizzy she’d thought something was wrong with the CO2 fans. That same feeling swept over her now, as Jack’s tongue made a leisurely exploration of her mouth.

A sharp tug at her waist released the snap of her jeans, and a second later Jack’s finger dragged a groan from deep in her throat.

A clatter outside reminded her where she was. The huge door to the fermentation room didn’t have a lock, and any of her staff could wander in at any moment. She broke the kiss, panting. “Jack. Not here. Someone could—”

Jack kissed her again, cutting off her protest, but then his arm tightened around her waist, lifting her off her feet and maneuvering her behind the largest of the tanks, out of sight of the door.

In the relative privacy they’d found, Jack’s kisses became more demanding, his hands more purposeful as clothing was pushed aside, stripped off. Soon she was clinging to him for support, unsure she could handle the onslaught.

Oddly, though, she gained clarity on one thing: the decision she’d been fretting over all morning. The one she’d made but didn’t want to admit—not even to herself.

If Jack was going to leave—this time for good—she wanted one last good memory to keep with her. She’d take what he was willing to give.

Would she regret this? Probably. Did she care? Not in the least. For just a little while she wanted to feel like she had when she was eighteen and Jack had wanted her more than anything.

Strong hands closed around her waist, lifting her. She wrapped her legs around him, and then she couldn’t think at all.

She heard her cries of pleasure echoing around her, mixing with the rasping sounds of Jack’s breath. She wanted more. Wanted what only Jack could give her.

It wouldn’t be enough, but it would have to do.

BRENNA had the most beautiful back. Jack traced his fingers along the indentation of her spine until the sheet draped over her hips stopped his lazy exploration. The sunlight played over her body, bathing her in a golden glow as she lay on her stomach on his bed. Last time he’d checked her eyes had been closed, and their nonsense conversation was easy and relaxed.

But he couldn’t keep his hands off her. It was as if his body wanted to make up for lost time—all the years he hadn’t had Brenna in his bed.

And suddenly he couldn’t remember why that was.

Brenna stretched lazily under his hand and hummed lightly in pleasure. She shifted, turning slightly on her side to face him and resting her head next to his arm. Her fingers traced idly along the arm supporting his body and she sighed deeply in satisfaction.

He pushed her hair over her shoulder to trace the line of her collarbone. “The symphony is hosting a reception Wednesday night, honoring Max’s support over the years.”

Brenna nodded. “I know. We sent wine.”

“But you’re not planning to go?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

She scrunched her nose in displeasure. “The crowds, the small talk—I’m not very good in those situations. You know that.”

He did know that. Just another thing they’d fought about more than once. “Still shy in a crowd, huh?”

“I’m not shy ,” Brenna rebutted, “just not good at mingling with people.” She shrugged as her fingers moved aimlessly to his chest. “Plus there’s the drive down, and since it would be so late I’d have to find a place to stay for the night…”

He laughed. “A place to stay? That’s a weak excuse. I own a hotel not four blocks from the concert hall.”

Brenna’s hand stopped. “Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And there’s that.”

Understanding dawned. “Oh. I see. You didn’t want to run into me at the party.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but, yes. I’m avoiding you.” She snorted. “Or at least I was .”

“And now that you’re not?”

“Still in the ‘not going’ camp. There’s no one there I really want to see—”

“Except me,” he teased.

Brenna pursed her lips and made a face at him. “I know you like these kinds of events, but I don’t.”

“No one likes these kinds of events. You go because you have to.”

“Really?” She pushed up onto her elbow. “You always seemed so keen on them.”

“Only in comparison to you and your absolute dread of parties.”

Brenna stuck out her tongue and lay back down on her stomach, bunching the pillow under her head.

“You should come, though,” he added. When she didn’t answer, he pulled out a bigger incentive. “For Max.”

“Don’t lay a guilt trip on me,” she mumbled into the pillow. “The event isn’t for Max. It’s for Max’s money. Max wouldn’t care either way.”

“True, but as the proprietor of Amante Verano you should be there. You are the winery now. It’s part of the gig.”

She rolled back to face him again, giving him a delicious view. “Ugh. Really?” She looked genuinely displeased at the thought.

“Really.” Stroking her stomach lightly, he added, “But you could come with me.”

Brenna’s eyes widened, and he had to bite back laughter at her horrified yet confused look. “With you?”

“Yes, with me. Do you have a dress?”

“Of course I have a dress.” She paused, face crinkling in thought. “Or Di does, at least. But it’s still…”

“Come on, Bren. It won’t be fun, but it won’t suck either.”

She flopped back onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s the way to convince me. I’m not exactly a big symphony fan, you know.”

“Then it’s a good thing it’s not a performance. Simply a meet-and-greet.”