The Danforths: Wesley, Ian & Imogene. Brenda Jackson
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said flatly. She wanted him again—now. She clutched his shoulders and her hips began moving in a slow, soul-stirring rhythm that was meant to seduce.
He crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her in a way that made her toes curl and her womanly core melt. When he began moving his body, she forgot all about her body’s soreness and concentrated on the frantic pace of their lovemaking as he rocked her with immense pleasure.
Her fingernails sank deeper into his shoulders and she pulled her mouth from his. “Please don’t stop,” she whispered through a hissed breath, thinking she was about to die. If she was going to take her last breath she couldn’t imagine going out any other way.
“I won’t,” he whispered back, increasing the pace, his body responding to her request. He had wanted to give her tenderness but she had wanted fire. He intended to send her up in smoke. He knew and accepted that he was doing more than making love to her. He was claiming her as his. He didn’t want to think about the implications of that.
Now was not the time. This was not the place.
Wesley reached down and filled his hands with her breasts, wanting to be connected to her in every way. He again increased the pace, the tempo wild, furious, unrestrained. And when she cried out his name before the explosion ripped through him, he gripped her hips and went deeper as her quivering muscles pulled at him, drained him. He threw his head back as the climax shook him to the core, taking everything from him.
He laced their fingers together as another explosion went off within him. His final thought before exhaustion claimed him was that he didn’t think he could ever let her go.
Seven
Wesley blinked at the sunlight that poured brightly through the window.
The storm was over.
He glanced around the unfamiliar bedroom seeing the flowers, the large fluffy pillows and stuffed animals. Soft colors of mauve and light gray mingled with bold splashes of black. The room’s decor was accentuated with a floral print on the valances over the window and in the matching bedspread.
He glanced at the empty spot next to him and frowned; he was surprised that Jasmine could even walk this morning after their activities of the night before. One climax had led to another and then another and pretty soon, he’d lost count.
Each time they had reach the pinnacles of ecstasy together, it had been better than before. Being inside her and hearing her cry out his name had truly been a unique experience in more ways than one. He had never taken part in anything so breathtakingly beautiful and passionate in his entire life.
He slipped out of the bed when he heard her moving around in the kitchen and smelled the aroma of coffee. He couldn’t wait to see her. He hoped that she didn’t have any regrets. Pulling on his jeans, he snapped them up as he heard her phone rang. He walked out of the bedroom after the fourth ring and realized she had no intentions of answering it. He was nearly in the kitchen when he heard the answering machine pick up the message.
“Jasmine, this is Alyssa and I know you’re home so don’t pretend otherwise. I don’t know if you plan to attend the huge benefit ball given by the hospital in two weeks, but I’ve decided to let you know that Paul Sanders will be my date that night. We ran into each other this past week and renewed our friendship, if you know what I mean.” There was a snicker in her voice when she added, “I thought I would prepare you. Goodbye.”
Wesley frowned. He remembered she had said that Paul Sanders had been the man she had once planned to marry. He stepped into the kitchen and his gaze immediately went to her. She was wearing a short robe and was standing at the window with her back to him.
Her head was lowered, as if her stepsister’s words were more than she cared to deal with at the moment. He wondered if he should return to the bedroom and pretend he hadn’t heard the recording, then decided not to. If he wanted to find out what was driving Jasmine then he needed to know everything about her.
Crossing the room he walked up behind her. He reached out and pulled her back against him and wrapped his arms around her, needing to touch her, to be close to her.
“The bed was empty,” he whispered softly against her ear. He slowly turned her around so he could look at her. “I missed you.” Brushing his mouth against hers.
When he lifted his mouth, he eyed her closely and saw heat flood her cheeks and understood why. She had been a sensual delight in his arms last night and now she was not sure how to act the morning after.
“I needed to take a bath and soak a while,” she said softly.
He reached out and touched her cheek, knowing her body had to be tender. “I didn’t mean to make love to you so many times.”
“Yeah, but I asked for it,” she responded truthfully. “And I have no regrets.”
Wesley released a deep sigh, grateful to hear that because he had no regrets, either. He glanced around the kitchen. She had set out eggs and bacon to cook. “If you prefer I can take you out to breakfast.”
She chuckled. “No, that’s okay. I enjoy cooking. It won’t take but a minute to throw something together.”
He nodded. “What are your plans today?”
She shrugged. “Saturdays are usually my lazy days. Once in a while I’ll go into the office if I’m working on a story, but today I’d planned to stay in and relax.”
“How would you like spending the day with me? I have to go to Charleston to make a few deliveries and return later tonight. I’d love the company.”
Jasmine opened her mouth to refuse his invitation but for some reason she couldn’t. She wasn’t ready for her time with him to end just yet. She met Wesley’s gaze. She would go to Charleston with him but needed to make sure that he had a clear understanding about something. “Will this be a date?”
He lifted a brow. “Why?”
“Because I don’t date. I told you that before.”
He nodded. Yes, she had. He also remembered the reason she had given him as to why she didn’t date. “You slept with me last night,” he decided to remind her. Most women didn’t sleep with men they didn’t date unless it was just a one-night stand. And hell would freeze over before he would let that happen.
Although he dated a lot of women, he didn’t sleep with just anyone. He was known to have very discriminating taste when it came to women and with Jasmine having been a virgin, he knew she didn’t sleep around either. The fact that he had been the first man she had slept with changed everything.
“Yes, but it wasn’t a date.”
He smiled down at her, his eyes curious. “In your mind, what constitutes a date?”
She shrugged again. “A couple going out and doing things together, going places together on a constant basis, like dinner, to the movies, concerts—things like that. Last night was our first and our last time sleeping together. Nothing has changed, Wesley. I’m still the reporter you don’t like.”
She was wrong; everything had changed. She might be a reporter he didn’t like but she was also a woman he desired. And she was wrong about last night being the last time they would sleep together. He definitely had plans to make love to her again.
“I liked you well enough last night. In fact I liked you a whole hell of a lot. And do you know what I liked most?” he asked her.
She held his gaze for a long, uncertain moment before asking in a whispered voice. “What?”
“I especially like the way you call my name when you come apart while I’m making love to you.”
“Wesley, you can’t—”
He didn’t give her a chance to finish what she was about to say. He reached down and swung her into his arms and captured her mouth in a kiss. His mind was made up. He wanted her and intended to have her.
He