Cameron threw him a look. “Nice. Rawlings probably knows exactly what we’re going to do.”

“Cameron, with the way you look tonight, every man at this wedding knows exactly what I plan to do with you.”

“Wow, that may be the sexiest thing any man has ever—shit—I’m ruining my heels in this grass. I keep sinking in.”

Without breaking stride, Jack lifted her into his arms and carried her.

“I could’ve just taken the shoes off,” Cameron said with a smile.

“I’m not wasting time while you undo those damn straps.”

He got her inside the Tower lobby, set her down, and led her into an elevator. He pushed the button for their floor. The minute the elevator doors shut, she reached for him. Jack caught her hands and spun her around, her back against his chest.

“Not yet, baby,” he said huskily in her ear. “I need to get you into that room safely.” He held her hands tightly, doubting he could take it if she so much as touched him. She pressed back and rubbed her just-out-of-sight ass teasingly against him.

Son of a bitch. Jack growled low in his throat. He thought about hitting the emergency stop button, pushing up her dress, and taking her right there in the elevator. And as much as he throbbed at the wanton image of her standing in her heels, bracing herself against the wall and moaning his name as he took her from behind, that was not the way things were going to happen for their first time together.

He bent his head and kissed the base of her throat, not trusting himself to get any closer to her mouth. He could feel her quick pulse underneath his lips. “Remember how I said I was in charge? That includes tonight, Cameron.”

With a sly smile, she closed her eyes, tilting her neck to give him better access. “We’ll see about that.”

They would see, Jack agreed. The minute they got into that room.

The elevator sounded, indicating they had arrived at their floor. The doors sprang open and he smacked Cameron lightly on the ass to get her moving.

Twenty-five

AS THEY HURRIED through the hallway, Cameron’s body tingled with anticipation. Jack had barely touched her, and she was already completely turned on.

He unlocked the door and let them into their room, tossing the key on the desk in the corner. As he did his usual check, Cameron noticed that housekeeping had turned down the beds and had left the lights on dim. She set her purse on the nightstand.

She turned to face him when he finished, thinking that if he didn’t kiss her soon she might suffocate from all the sexual tension in the air.

She expected him to pounce and throw her onto the closest bed.

He didn’t.

Jack folded his arms across his chest. “So I’ve been thinking about your Walls of Jericho. Actually not so much about the wall, but about the other part. Where I show you how a man undresses.”

The temperature in the room rose so fast the glass on the television fogged.

Cameron exhaled. “All right. I’m watching.”

First, Jack took off the jacket of his suit, exposing his gun harness. He quickly removed that as well and set it on the desk. His hands moved to his tie. He loosened the knot and pulled it off, and Cameron had to fight the urge to storm over and yank the rest of his clothes off him.

There was a glint in his eyes as he made no move to undress further. “Sorry, but this is the twenty-first century version.”

“What happens in the twenty-first century version?”

“You lose the dress.”

Well, then.

“There’s not much underneath,” she said. She’d had little choice with the way the dress was cut.

“I’m counting on that.”

Cameron reached for the zipper that ran along one side and inched it down. Without dropping Jack’s gaze, she then untied the halter around her neck. The dress fell in a pool at her feet. She faced him wearing nothing but her black silk thong panties.

And of course, her high heels.

Her nipples tightened in the cool air of the hotel room. Or maybe it was just Jack’s look.

Lust clouded his eyes as he took in every inch of her, and she had never felt more sexy—and bold—than she did right then.

“Your turn,” she said.

He undid the buttons on his shirt and peeled it off, revealing a tight white T-shirt that showed off his firm chest muscles.

Cameron was aching to get her hands on him. As if sensing this, he crossed the room. Her pulse skyrocketed as he approached, yet he still didn’t touch her.

“Now you,” he said.

She reached up and removed the antique-silver chandelier earrings Amy had picked for her, dropping them to the floor beside the dress.

“That’s cheating,” Jack said.

“You have four times the clothing on that I do.”

With one swift tug, he yanked his T-shirt over his head. “Better?”

Hell . . . yes.

Cameron took her time, savoring the sight. The hard muscles . . . the tight, six-pack abs . . . the light scattering of dark hair on his chest. . . . She wanted to taste every inch of him.

Then, briefly coming out of her daze, she noticed something else. Of course.

She had forgotten about the scars.

Three years ago she had read the files that contained a very detailed report of the hell that Martino’s men had put Jack through during the two days they’d held him captive. But she hadn’t thought about the physical scars that kind of hell would’ve left behind.

Her eyes took in the cigarette and electrical burns by his right shoulder, moved to the knife wounds along his side and under his ribs, then came to a stop on the quarter-sized circular scar high on the left side of his chest—from the bullet he had taken when making his escape.

Cameron raised her eyes to Jack’s. He was watching her carefully, to see her reaction.

She stepped forward and rested her hands on his chest. She gently kissed the scars on his shoulder. She did the same to the one on his chest, and after that bent down to run her lips over the scars under his ribs and along his side. Then, unable to help herself, she ran her tongue along the soft trail of hair that started at his navel and disappeared behind his belt buckle.

Jack pulled her up and stared into her eyes with a ferocity that would’ve scared her under any other circumstance. He guided her backward, and when she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her knees she needed no encouragement to lie down on top of it.

“You still have a lot more clothing on than I do,” Cameron said, rising onto her elbows.

“I can fix that.”

She watched as Jack undid his belt buckle, then the button on his pants. His eyes feasted on the sight of her lying on the bed before him as he unzipped his fly. She caught a brief glimpse of gray boxer-briefs just before he slid them off with his pants, socks, and shoes. Then he stood before her in all his glory.

She would never, ever compare him to a molten lava cake again. After seeing Jack’s naked body, all other delicacies were henceforth ruined for her.

Of course, her eyes were drawn to that part of him, the part that was big and hard and raring to go. All for her.

Jack climbed onto the bed, and she lay back. His dark, fiery gaze made her shiver with anticipation, yet he still didn’t touch her.

He nodded to her near-naked body. “You choose what’s next.”

Did he want her to beg? Because she was nearly at that point. “God, Jack . . . touch me . . .”

He smiled.

He was the devil.

“Choose,” he repeated.

“I’ll keep the shoes,” Cameron said defiantly.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” His hands moved to her hips and tugged her panties down her legs and over her shoes. Then his mouth started at her knee and slowly made the opposite journey, up her thigh, along her hip, her stomach, the V between her breasts, her neck, and swept down on her mouth. She moaned, finally able to kiss him. His arm slid under her back, and he pulled her up so that she was sitting on his legs, straddling his hips.