Page 124 of Drive
But before she could say more, he covered her mouth with his. In her, he tasted belonging… purpose… home. Jacques knew no matter where he journeyed, he’d return to her again and again. She was his truenorth.
He had to make herunderstand.
“Rainey…” His hands traveled up the sides of her waist, lifting her shirt as he went. Her hands anchored at his shoulders. He pulled the shirt up over her bra before she made a show ofprotesting.
“Jacques, yourgrandfather…”
“Is asleep,” he finished. “And I want to make you mine in my own bed.” At his words, he felt her knees give just a little against him. He tugged her shirt the rest of the way and tossed it behind him. Holding her against him in one arm, he kissed his way down her neck and let his free hand slide up her ribs and along the curve of her bra until he found the friendly little clasp between her breasts, and with a single flick, the cups sprang open, and his hands and mouth were full ofher.
“Oh…” she panted, her chest heaving againsthim.
After a moment of her helpless — but stifled — cries and his satisfied moans, he released the nipple he’d suckled and licked a trail back up her throat to her mouth and feasted thereagain.
“Are you mine?” he growled in her ear, the feel of her fingers tangling into his hair threatening to fracture his control. He’d let himself lose it soon enough, but first she had to know thetruth.
“Yes, yes, I’m yours.” With a swiftness that surprised him, she released his hair and whipped his T-shirt over his head. And then her bare breasts pressed into his chest, and their searing heat was like a fuse that ignited a path straight down hisbody.
“Christ!” He backed her into the mattress and followed her down, struggling to keep his focus. “Say it again. Say you’remine.”
“I’m yours,” she said with feeling. “I’m yours, Jacques.” Her hands were at his fly, and time was runningout.
“For how long?” he managed, though the telltale strain in his voice gave so much away. But he needed to hear it. He needed to know she wouldn’t give up on him because of his music. Or because of herfather.
Her hands stilled between them, and her eyes, flashes of white in the darkness, met his. She said nothing, only the sounds of their labored breathing breaking thesilence.
“How long, Rainey?” he asked, running the long middle finger of his left hand down her cheek and over her lips. “Tell me thetruth.”
Her breath hitched, and he felt it through his whole body. “Until you let me go,” she answered, her voiceshaking.
His smile stretched so wide, Jacques’s face ached. “I’ll never let you go,” heswore.
But Rainey didn’t return his smile. He watched her frown instead, the deep crease evident even in the dimness. “But you will.” Her voice was barely audible, but she might as well have shouted the words, her conviction was sostrong.
Jacques shook his head, his smile never wavering. “I won’t because I couldn’t. Don’t you understand, Rainey?” He cupped her face, feeling the supreme satisfaction of holding himself above her as she lay in his bed. The rightness of knowing he’d make love to her again and again before the sun rose, and then he’d awake beside her and want to relive the night and morning for the rest of his life. “I loveyou.”
Her gasp was so sharp, so quick, he nearly missed it, and if he had, he might have worried, because she went still beneath him. So still he was sure she wasn’tbreathing.
Then her hands came up and gripped his biceps, and when she finally spoke, her voice was a plea. “Jacques?”
He heard the fear and knew at once she needed to hear it again. Maybe all night. And that was fine byhim.
“I love you,” he said again. “Rainey, I love you.” He kissed her once. Twice. By the third one, she kissed him back, her hands coming to his sides and moving slowly up and down hisbody.
He told himself he didn’t need to hear the words in return. Not yet, anyway. The way she looked at him — when they’d made love for the first time, when their eyes met after she’d confronted her father, when she’d teared up at Kate’s news — let him know what he needed to know. If she didn’t love him yet, she was closeenough.
He could say it now for the both ofthem.
“You’re my love, and I’ll always come home to you,” he vowed. “I don’t care if I’m gone two nights or — God forbid — two months, I’ll be counting the hours until I’m with you again. And the whole time I’m gone, I’ll be writing songsabout—”
“Jacques,” she interrupted, her grip tightening on his arm, “stop talking for aminute.”
He shook his head. “No, I can’t. Because I know you. You’re going to try to deny what I feel. I love you, and I can’t let up until you finally getthat—”
“Jacques—”
“—this is the real thing. I’ve never felt like this before, and I know you’re afraid,but—”
“Jacques, damnit, I love you too!” She gave him a little shake, but it was nothing compared to the impact of herwords.
