by L. B. Dunbar
“Please,” I beg, not wanting to give up this sensation. The build swirls up my thighs and hovers over my belly. I’m so close.
Jacob shifts, and the movement triggers me to let go again. Muttering his name like a curse and a prayer, I break, clutching at him with my heels at his ass and fingertips digging into his hips to hold him to me.
“My turn,” he growls. He quickly pulls out of me. “Kneel up on the couch.” His hands guide me at the hips to flip and climb up on the cushion. On my knees, he follows me. I’m lost to his control.
Do with me what you will.
I lean over the back of the couch, and Jacob enters me. As he thrusts harder, hitting deeper and moving faster, I grunt and groan.
“So beautiful like this, angel.” With the devil at my back, I’m taken in a way I’ve never experienced. Jacob’s fingers clutch at my hips, nearly bruising the skin. He dives into me over and over again. Our position is raw and racy, with the fire at our back like some ancient ritual. Each thrust becomes more wild, more desperate with need until he stills, holding himself within my depths, and the evidence of his release is undeniable. His upper body leans back while his hips tip forward, holding him in place. Glancing at him over my shoulder, he’s a gorgeous creature in the throes of lust.
Eventually, he collapses over me. His warm chest covers the expanse of my back, and we remain in this position, still connected to one another. With the power of his orgasm, I silently praise the glory of condoms.
“My Lilac,” he says into my neck. “That scent. It just lingers.”
His words make me shiver. The endearment screams intimacy, but reality crashes into me despite our position. This is only one night.
However, twenty minutes later, after we’ve slipped down to the couch to catch our breaths, Jacob begins kissing my neck. Then my shoulder. With a hand on my arm, he turns me.
“Can’t get enough,” he says before crashing his mouth to mine again. He sits up and drags me over him, straddling his lap this time. With my back to the fire, his hands coast up my sides before his mouth takes mine again. He’s already hard and ready for a repeat, but he works my mouth until I can’t take the anticipation. My core covers him.
“Wait,” he softly says as I grind over his stiff length. He reaches around me for another packet on the floor. Quickly, he sheaths himself, and this time I guide him to me. Balancing on the precipice of him seems iconic of our situation. We shouldn’t have tipped over this edge, but we did.
And we do it again, as I slide down him, slipping him inside me. Jacob’s head tips back once before eyes meet mine.
“You’re so fucking perfect. Truly an angel.” His eyes outline my body as I rock over him, undulating with a rhythm that matches the racing of my heart. He watches me, eyes wandering over the movement of my hips, the heave of my chest, and the gasp from my lips when he taps me in a way I’m unfamiliar.
“With the fire like this, highlighting your skin. You’re a vision, Lilac. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this night.” There’s a question in his voice, along with the confusion, but it’s all a reminder this is only for tonight. This night. I don’t want to turn back time. I just want to keep taking from him.
“I feel so alive being inside you.” I slowly smile at his words as his hands skim my body. My hips respond, moving on him in a way another orgasm builds. This is crazy. And delicious. I rock on his lap, setting a pace that drives my clit over his pelvis.
“Jacob,” I whisper, a warning too quiet.
“That’s it, angel. Take from me. Break for me.” My lids close, and my head tips back as I feel the spiral swirl through my body. My thighs clench against his while my hands clutch at his shoulders. I break apart, mouth falling open to scream, and his lips capture mine, swallowing back my cries. His hips thrust upward, taking over. He grows wild once more, bucking upward while tugging me down at the hips. His mouth quickly breaks from mine.
“So good. So fucking good.” The word pours from his mouth as his head falls back and he holds me over him, jolting inside me once more. When he comes down from the high, his lids open, and he stares at me over him. One hand reaches up for my hair, swiping along my face at the hairline before brushing back the short strands.
“Beautiful,” he whispers to me, and of all the things to make me blush, it’s his words.
+ + +
We eventually sleep with me curled into his chest. I’m spent after such aggressive lovemaking, but quickly remind myself it isn’t love. It was lust in the heat of the moment, in the heat of a snowstorm.
I wake to something long and thick between my thighs. My lids flip open, and I notice Jacob watching me. The fire is out. Daylight fills the windows. The storm has passed, but the earth is a white wonderland.
With my back to the cushions and Jacob at my front, he’s been my heat source through the night, but the firmness between my legs is warmth as well.
Jacob’s fingers caress my hairline as they did last night.
“One more time,” he whispers as if asking for old times’ sake. I don’t want to think about how the bubble will burst once we leave this couch. Instead, I tip up my head and brush my lips over his. He kisses me back, long and lazy as if we have all the time in the world. Eventually breaking the kiss, he reaches blindly behind him and picks up a final packet. He covers himself, skilled at the motion, and returns between my thighs. He hitches my leg over his hip, keeping us on our sides.
Without words, he slides into me, and we quietly sigh. He rocks once before flipping me to my back, sliding over me. It’s the most vanilla position we’ve been in, and Jacob stills, balancing on his elbows. Shaky fingers brush at my hair once again.
“What are you doing to me?” he groans before rocking forward, tapping into me, and all thoughts escape me. I have no answer for him. Whatever I’m doing, he’s doing to me. I’m confused while complete. I’m concerned while comfortable.
Jacob moves slowly, no longer in the rush of last night. His eyes focus on mine, but it’s too much. I turn away first, but his hand on my face turns me back.
“Look at me,” he begs. “I’m a monster at heart, but you’re turning me into something else. I’m a creature confused at the beauty before him. How can I deserve someone like you?”
His words are too much. A tear seeps from my eye as I sense this is goodbye between us, a final act before reality strikes, and we realize what we’ve done. I have no idea how this will affect us other than to destroy the working relationship we have. We can’t go back.
Jacob continues to move, growing more intense with each thrust. “Can’t hold back. Feels too good.” His stammering comments break through the haze of his previous words. My hips tip to meet his short thrusts. I’m too in my head to get where I need to go for him.
“Lilac,” he warns, and my hands cup his face, drawing his lips down to me as I kiss him in sadness and fear. I’ll lose him once we leave this couch. I sense the loss before we’ve even moved.
“Shit,” he mutters, breaking out connected lips and stilling. He goes off inside me once more, and he holds his position, remaining on top of me. “You didn’t.”
He shifts to remove himself from me, but I catch him at his shoulder blades. My heart sinks as I accept that this is not personal. Despite our intense connection, this was just sex. It can’t be more. Jacob doesn’t want marriage. He doesn’t even date. He’s told me dating is only a means to sex. And these are ways I’m not the person for him as I want more than just sex.
“It doesn’t matter,” I finally respond to him, and his brows pinch as he looks down at me. At thirty-six, I’m reduced to my sixteen-year-old self. The girl who gave up her virginity to the wrong boy. The woman whose hopes fell on Brendan as the wrong man. I’ve picked the wrong man again, but haven’t I known it all along? Suddenly, I’m emotionally scarred by our situation when it’s been all my fault. I thought I could handle this night for what it was.
And I can’t.
Jacob lowers, p
ressing his lips to my forehead and holding the position. Tears fill my eyes as we lay molded together, still connected when a sharp knock sounds on the front door. Jacob pulls back to look down at me.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“I don’t know anyone,” he replies, tipping his head as if he can see the front door from our position behind the arm of the couch. He probably can because we moved the furniture.
“Stay here,” he commands, quickly separating from me. He moves off the couch and reaches for his jeans, stepping into them without his boxers. He grabs the cable-knit sweater he gave to me last night and slips it over his head. Leaving me, he rounds the couch and heads to the front door. He looks through the muted glass of the side window before opening the door a crack.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Pam Carter.” Instantly, I recognize the rough male voice. “Is she here?”
Shit.
“Who wants to know?” Jacob inquires, irritation present in his voice. His body shifts, blocking the visitor from viewing inside, but I know who stands out there. I swing my legs from the couch and scramble for my sweater. My leggings are next as my underwear is somewhere behind the couch. Still seated, I tug up the material and hear the man at the door speak.
“Her brother, Jess.” He speaks with the same warning hesitation Jacob did.
Jacob slides the door open farther, revealing me with my bedhead of hair and smudged makeup. Trying to straighten day-old clothing, I stand and walk with humiliation to the front door to face my brother. Eyes that match mine shift from me to Jacob and then back.
“Who’s this?” Jess snaps, tipping his head in Jacob’s direction.
“This is Jacob Vincent.” I address my brother, no longer holding back Jacob’s secrets. Jacob doesn’t take his eyes off Jess.
“He the mystery man?” Jess smirks, his jaw clenching as he’s working through his thoughts. Born eleven months apart, Jess looks every bit my twin, with chin-length straw-blond hair and denim blue eyes, only his brooding features don’t match the more roundness of me.
“I’m her boss,” Jacob interjects with steel in his tone. His body stiffens as he continues assessing my brother.
My family has known I work for someone outside of Mae’s Flowers, and they’ve teased me for years that I’m in love with this mystery man. I’ve adamantly denied my feelings. Standing before my brother, I look guilty of something other than loving the man at my side.
“You okay?” Jess asks, pausing to assess my state of dress. “Thought you might be snowed in.” I tip my head to see my eldest brother, Tom, sitting in his truck geared up with snowplowing equipment.
“How did you find me?” I question as I’ve never revealed Jacob’s address.
“Emily has some find her friends app. She looked up your location when you weren’t answering your phone.”
I chew at my lip, uncertain of what’s next when Jacob speaks.
“Since you’re here, could you plow the drive? Then Pam can get out of here.” Jacob’s terse tone, addressing my brother, turns my head in his direction. I narrow my eyes on him, wondering why he’s standing so still. His fingers are white-knuckling the edge of the front door. My stomach roils. Is he trying to get rid of me? Is my brothers’ sudden appearance the perfect excuse to kick me out?
“Yeah, man. We got it.” Jess addresses Jacob and then turns to me. “Phone dead?”
“Lost power last night,” Jacob clarifies for me, but I’m holding eyes with my brother again.
“Call Mom,” he mutters.
Shit.
I never called anyone to tell them where I was. Not that I need to check in, but it was a storm, and I’m guessing Mom checked in with all her chicks to make sure everyone was safe. I hadn’t answered my phone all night. Then again, I am a grown-ass adult and can take care of myself. Glancing up at Jacob, I realize I’m wrong. I’m in over my head. I’ve thrown myself at the fire and got burned.
“Let me get my things. I’ll meet you downstairs.” I pause, waiting for Jacob to say something, anything to stop me from going, but he doesn’t. When I glance back at my brother, Jess’s jaw clenches before he nods once.
“Nice to meet you,” he mutters to Jacob, holding out a hand. Jacob stares down at it for a second before responding.
“You, too, man.”
Shaking my head, I trudge back to our little nest, gathering my bra and socks before searching for my bag. My underwear is a lost cause. My jacket was near my bag, and I roughly tug it on, angry with myself. I’m so stupid.
Jacob enters his office without a word to me, and I return to the hall for my boots. While I slip them on, Jacob returns, standing before me. He holds out his hand with several bills in them—hundred-dollar bills.
“There should be enough for your brother’s service and your extra time last night.” I blink at the dullness of his tone.
“Extra time?” I hiss, then swallow back the sudden lump in my throat.
“You probably want to be paid for your overtime.”
Continuing to stare at him, I can’t process what he’s saying. He didn’t force me to stay. It was an act of nature. I wasn’t working. I was spending time with him.
What the hell does he think happened here?
“I don’t want your money.”
“Take it. You deserve it.” He shoves his hand toward me. Shell-shocked, I reach forward as if I’m going to accept his offering—for services fucking rendered—and then I smack at his wrist. The surprising strike causes Jacob to drop the bills, and I watch as they scatter to his floor.
“What the fuck?” Jacob stammers, staring back at me.
“No, that’s my question,” I snap back at him. “Do not treat me like this,” I demand, finding strength I don’t feel.
“I’m not treating you—”
“You’ve never been a dick to me before, so don’t start now,” I yell.
“I’m not being a dick. I’m paying you for—”
“For sleeping with you,” I finish for him.
“That’s not what happened here.”
I stare at him, waiting for more of an explanation. “What did happen then?” I finally ask, knowing I won’t like his answer. His silence says it all.
“That’s what I thought,” I whisper.
My name is a quiet echo I ignore as I turn for the staircase, stomp downward, and slam the door on my exit. I’ve reached my breaking point with Jacob, and it’s all my fault.
Chapter 13
A Cold Blast
[Jacob]
I have no idea why she’s pissed, and I stand here shell-shocked as the bills lay scattered on the floor. Bending to pick them up, I return to the living room, finding our disheveled love nest. The condom wrappers and the spent ones. The comforter has fallen to the floor.
Fuck. I race barefoot down the cold stairs to the lower level garage, yanking open the door to find Pam already backing out of the space. With the soles of my feet freezing against the concrete flooring, I wave my arms at her retreat, but she ignores me, slipping out in the sliver of space her brothers have plowed in my drive while I stand there watching as she disappears between the thick shrubbery onto the dirt road.
I run back into the house, immediately calling her, but she doesn’t answer. Her old Jeep isn’t high tech, and I know she’s a responsible driver, not distracted by phones unless she has her Bluetooth earpiece in place.
Call me. I shoot off the text, and then my own phone dies after using it as a flashlight for too long last night. When my electricity restores, and I can finally plug in my phone to charge, there is no response to my text.
As I thrive on work, I end up sending her the chapters she didn’t complete reading via email. I need to write, but my head is a mess with her disappearance and lack of response to me. At three in the morning, the chapters return, and I stare at empty email minus the work.
Suddenly, I feel guilty as she does have a job outside of working for me. Plus, she doe
s all her blogging stuff, most of which she does for free, claiming she just likes books that much.
“It’s a stress reliever to read and then chat about what I’ve read.”
On that day in the hospital, when I told Pam who I was, she told me how she knew me.
“Jacob Vincent, the author?” Born Jacob Vincentia, I dropped the last letters to make my name easier for readers to recognize. I’m not hard-pressed to meet a random fan, but it did seem strange that this angel in a hospital would recognize me.
“I write for Blood and Blossom, a blog and—"
“What?” I’d cut her off immediately because I’d heard of her. She’d hated my prior release—Where the Wolves Hunt—ripping about the fantasy thriller as unrealistic and almost childish compared to my other stories. As I’d loved that book, her review was harsh. Not that I normally react to reviews, but for some reason, hers really hit home, especially because her prior reviews were eloquently written, dissecting the subtleties within my stories, and even finding nuggets I hadn’t consciously made. She was excellent at deciphering my work, so I didn’t like her disappointment in that one book. I asked her to read for me, and so our history began. She’s been my muse ever since, and I’ve won three major awards with her assistance.
While I’m typically cavalier about people in my life, letting them walk away if they wish, I’m not so carefree about Pam. I want to argue with myself that it’s her inspiration I can’t dismiss, but it isn’t just her award-winning assistance. I’d miss her. She doesn’t take my shit, and the underlying current that she could walk away from me easier than I can with her tells me I don’t want to lose her on a deeper level. I just don’t know what that level is.
+ + +
The next day, Ella calls to ask me to join her and Ethan for dinner at their new place. I jump at the chance as I need to get out of my own house. Everywhere here is a reminder of Pam. She’s been an integral part of my home for over two years, and now, it’s as if she’s imprinted on everything. My bed. The couches. Even my pots and pans.
