like the hottie she fantasized being, they apparently thought she wasn’t interested in sex.
Oh, she was interested. And not just in the plain old vanilla variety, either; she dreamed of out-of-control throw-caution-to-the-wind, Desire with a flaming capital D sex.
Instead, her way-too-few lovers had treated her with lowering care. And Gabe, whom she’d been dating fairly steadily for the past six weeks and had thought might be her guide into the world of strip-me-naked-and-hold-me-down screaming orgasms, hadn’t even slapped any real moves on her. When he’d first asked her out, she’d thought for sure that finally she had a shot at the fantasy sex she’d been dreaming of since her teens. There was just something beneathhis surface calm that made her know he’d be wild or—even better—dominant in that order-a-girl-to do-the-unspeakable-in-bed kind of way.
But although they got along famously and had fun together, he’d never done more than kiss her good-night at her door. And to her surprise, as fantastic as he was in the smooch department, maybe she didn’t feel that out-of-control chemistry she’d hoped for with him, either. But would it hurt him to at least try? Just once she’d like to be treated less like a lady and more like a tart.
She sure as heck didn’t fool herself that a famous rock star with densely tattooed arms and a lovely accent would be the one to suddenly sniff out her inner sex kitten and itch to release it. That didn’t stop her, however, from tingling right down to the bone when Savage looked at her with those heavy-lidded amber-brown eyes as if she had his full, absorbed attention.
Unfortunately, it also didn’t stop her from blushing to her hairline. Because that was Part Two of her curse: her outer good girl was aeons stronger than the self she wished to be. A self who was fearless like Macy.
Jack’s gaze drifted lazily to the front of her blouse. Oh, God. Could he tell her nipples were hard? Which bra had she put on this morning, anyway? Please let it be the slightly padded one.
But when he gave her that one-sided knowingsmile again and licked his lips, she knew. It was the skimpy, lace-trimmed number.
The heat in her face was so scalding she was surprised her features didn’t melt right down her neck onto her firmly buttoned ecru blouse. She hated the fact that, as a teensiest-bit-repressed schoolteacher, she was already a cliché. Did she really need to compound it by reacting like a thirteen-year-old? He was a rock-and-roll god, for goodness sake. Probably every woman he met had this response.
“You wanna get this done sometime tonight, Savage?”
Gabe’s sardonic demand made her start skittishly. But Jack flashed him a smile that was surprisingly boyish. “Yeah, sorry, mate,” he said. “I just got sucked in for a minute by your pretty little bird here.”
Fury shot up her spine and she forgot all about her schoolgirl blushes. “Listen,” she said in a low, stiff voice. “You might be a big hotshot rock star, but that doesn’t give you leave to mock me.”
He’d started to turn away, but pivoted back to look down at her. “Oh, I’m far from mocking you, luv. I’ve had a thing for shiny-haired girls in Peter Pan collars since Caitlin Doyle led me around by my—” he cleared his throat “—uh, nose at Kill o’the Grange in County Dublin.”
“What is that—Kill o’the Grange?” she demanded, her teacher’s interest piqued.
“School I was in my sixth class. What you’d call an elementary, I guess.” His gaze drifted over hershirtfront again. “I had it bad for Caitlin when I was twelve.”
“Savage!” Gabe bellowed.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep your cacks on, guv. I’m coming.” He ran a finger down her nose, then strolled back to pick up a shovel.
Macy came over. “A bit overwhelming on first meeting, our Jack.”
“I’ll say.” She shot the tall blonde a glance. “I had this overpowering urge to throw my panties at him.”
Macy
Oh, she was interested. And not just in the plain old vanilla variety, either; she dreamed of out-of-control throw-caution-to-the-wind, Desire with a flaming capital D sex.
Instead, her way-too-few lovers had treated her with lowering care. And Gabe, whom she’d been dating fairly steadily for the past six weeks and had thought might be her guide into the world of strip-me-naked-and-hold-me-down screaming orgasms, hadn’t even slapped any real moves on her. When he’d first asked her out, she’d thought for sure that finally she had a shot at the fantasy sex she’d been dreaming of since her teens. There was just something beneathhis surface calm that made her know he’d be wild or—even better—dominant in that order-a-girl-to do-the-unspeakable-in-bed kind of way.
But although they got along famously and had fun together, he’d never done more than kiss her good-night at her door. And to her surprise, as fantastic as he was in the smooch department, maybe she didn’t feel that out-of-control chemistry she’d hoped for with him, either. But would it hurt him to at least try? Just once she’d like to be treated less like a lady and more like a tart.
She sure as heck didn’t fool herself that a famous rock star with densely tattooed arms and a lovely accent would be the one to suddenly sniff out her inner sex kitten and itch to release it. That didn’t stop her, however, from tingling right down to the bone when Savage looked at her with those heavy-lidded amber-brown eyes as if she had his full, absorbed attention.
Unfortunately, it also didn’t stop her from blushing to her hairline. Because that was Part Two of her curse: her outer good girl was aeons stronger than the self she wished to be. A self who was fearless like Macy.
Jack’s gaze drifted lazily to the front of her blouse. Oh, God. Could he tell her nipples were hard? Which bra had she put on this morning, anyway? Please let it be the slightly padded one.
But when he gave her that one-sided knowingsmile again and licked his lips, she knew. It was the skimpy, lace-trimmed number.
The heat in her face was so scalding she was surprised her features didn’t melt right down her neck onto her firmly buttoned ecru blouse. She hated the fact that, as a teensiest-bit-repressed schoolteacher, she was already a cliché. Did she really need to compound it by reacting like a thirteen-year-old? He was a rock-and-roll god, for goodness sake. Probably every woman he met had this response.
“You wanna get this done sometime tonight, Savage?”
Gabe’s sardonic demand made her start skittishly. But Jack flashed him a smile that was surprisingly boyish. “Yeah, sorry, mate,” he said. “I just got sucked in for a minute by your pretty little bird here.”
Fury shot up her spine and she forgot all about her schoolgirl blushes. “Listen,” she said in a low, stiff voice. “You might be a big hotshot rock star, but that doesn’t give you leave to mock me.”
He’d started to turn away, but pivoted back to look down at her. “Oh, I’m far from mocking you, luv. I’ve had a thing for shiny-haired girls in Peter Pan collars since Caitlin Doyle led me around by my—” he cleared his throat “—uh, nose at Kill o’the Grange in County Dublin.”
“What is that—Kill o’the Grange?” she demanded, her teacher’s interest piqued.
“School I was in my sixth class. What you’d call an elementary, I guess.” His gaze drifted over hershirtfront again. “I had it bad for Caitlin when I was twelve.”
“Savage!” Gabe bellowed.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep your cacks on, guv. I’m coming.” He ran a finger down her nose, then strolled back to pick up a shovel.
Macy came over. “A bit overwhelming on first meeting, our Jack.”
“I’ll say.” She shot the tall blonde a glance. “I had this overpowering urge to throw my panties at him.”
Macy
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