by Ryan, Lexi
The elevator dings. The door slides open, but neither of us moves.
“Tonight isn’t about anything but you and me. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m touching you tonight because I want to touch you. I’m going to make you come just because it feels good, and because I’ve had too many fucking fantasies of getting my mouth between your legs to pass it up now.”
I shudder in his arms, faintly aware of the doors sliding closed. “You don’t have to—”
“Fuck have to. Tonight is about want. You hear me?” He shakes his head slowly, studying me. “Anything you want. But no sex. That’s something we both have to wait for.”
I nod my understanding, and part of me is grateful. I want Jake to touch me. I want this to be about us and not about my big plans—and he’s giving me that without me ever asking for it. He knows I need it because he knows me.
He punches the button on the wall, and the doors slide open again.
My legs aren’t much better than noodles beneath me as he leads me out of the elevator, but I somehow make it to our room. He opens the door for me, and before it has the chance to swing closed behind him, I grab a fistful of his shirt. “I want it to be good for you, too.”
“Good.” He grabs my dress in both his fists and yanks it over my head. I don’t have time to feel nervous about him seeing me in my bra and panties because one second he’s tossing my dress onto the floor, and the next he has me pressed against the wall. His hand slides between my legs, rubbing the lace over my clit.
“You’re wet,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So fucking wet.” He kisses his way down my neck and across my collarbone—a symphony of lips and teeth and tongue that signals hunger more than seduction and leaves me feeling desirable in a way I’ve never felt in my life.
He drops his head to my breast and sucks at me through my thin bra. When I cry out, he pulls his head away and pinches my nipple between his finger and thumb. “I’m going to have so much fun discovering all the ways I can make you come,” he murmurs. His mouth trails lower, skimming over my belly, his tongue grazing my navel until he’s on his knees before me with his hands on my ass and his forehead resting against one hipbone.
I slide a hand into his hair. “Jake, you . . .”
His eyes are hot when he tilts his face up to me, and the intensity there makes the words clog in my throat. He shakes his head. “Don’t you fucking dare give me a you don’t have to speech right now. I already told you, tonight is about pleasure, and I want to feel you. I want to taste you. So don’t tell me to stop unless you don’t want this.”
“I want you to . . .” My voice wobbles on the words. “I want to feel your mouth on me.” I’m so nervous about letting the words out that they’re too soft. He holds my gaze for five thunderous beats of my heart, and I think he might not have heard me at all. But in a flash, I see that he did. I see it in his eyes and hear it in the guttural rumble of his groan. He heard every word.
“Fuck yes.” He dips his head to nuzzle me between my legs. He groans, and I feel the vibration of the sound right against where I’m hot and wet. Where I’m aching. His fingers curl under the string of my thong, and my legs shake as I wait for him to pull it off.
Instead, he stands, eyes all over me. “You want this on when my mouth is on you?”
I shake my head.
He steps back. “Then take it off, baby.” His eyes trail over me—the modest swell of my breasts, the flat of my stomach, my thighs. “Let me see you.”
I unhook my bra with shaking hands. I’m already wearing so little that there isn’t much surprise left, but I’m still as nervous as a virgin bride. I want to be everything to Jake. I want to be his fantasy. When I slide the straps down my arms, delicate lace cups fall to the floor, and his nostrils flare.
“Fuck yes.” His eyes are all over me. “So fucking perfect.”
I catch his eyes as I loop my thumbs into the straps at my hips and tug until this last scrap of covering falls to my feet, then I step out of my shoes.
“This is happening.” He shakes his head slowly, eyes scanning every inch of my face—trying to read me or memorize me. Both?
I swallow hard because I can’t believe it either, and I’m scared to admit even to myself just how long I’ve wanted this. “I like the way you look at me.”
“How’d you think I’d look at you?”
I shrug and swallow the words lodged like a fist in my throat. Now’s not the time for insecurities. This is a moment for bold passion and frantic touches, but Jake wants to know, and it feels important. “I’ve always wanted to be more.” I take a step toward him and wave a hand down my body. “More hips, more boobs, more ass.”
“Nah,” he says softly. “You don’t need more of anything.” He lifts a hand to cup my breast and grazes a thumb across my nipple. His greedy eyes are all over me. “This is you, Ava. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten myself off imagining you showing me this body? Imagining you letting me touch it?”
“Really?” My voice cracks on the word—like a shell breaking and releasing my fears to puddle at my feet.
“I’ve pictured you so many times that you’d think I would have gotten it right.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “And yet you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
My insecurities fade away, replaced with boldness from the awe in his eyes. “I’ve thought about you too.”
He lifts his head, his eyes locking on mine. “Have you?”
I nod. “Every night this week I’ve touched myself thinking about the things you said to me.” I lick my lips. The admission leaves me exposed, but I like the feeling. This is what it’s like to strip myself bare for Jake. To show him where I’m most vulnerable. “I don’t normally do that so often, but you’ve made me . . . Jake, you put ideas in my head. Made me want things.”
“This week?”
I nod. “And in the shower . . .”
His chest expands on his deep inhale. “And what about before this week?” He grazes my collarbone with his index finger, then traces a line down between my breasts, over my navel, and between my legs, where I’m swollen and needy for him. “Before this week, did you ever touch yourself thinking about me?”
Desire is ungrounded electricity between us, snapping at the air and looking for connection. “Yes.”
“Once? Twice?” He cups my jaw in his hand and rubs my bottom lip with his thumb.
“Too many times to count.” I give a shaky smile. “You’ve starred in my fantasies for years. Even when I didn’t want to admit it to myself, you were there.”
He growls and nods. “I would’ve been. You only had to ask.”
I open my mouth to question this—or maybe to object—but he leads me to the bed, and I don’t care about anything else. “Lie back, beautiful.”
I do as he says, but he’s unbuttoning his shirt, so I only go down to my elbows, wanting the view of his broad shoulders, the display of ink on his skin. He drops his dress shirt to the floor, then yanks his undershirt over his head and throws it aside. The sight of him makes the ache between my legs coil tighter. Bare chest. Tattoos. Hard muscle under soft skin.
“I like that.” He nods to me. “I want you up on your elbows when my mouth is on you.” He strips out of his jeans, and my breath catches at the sight of him. His strong legs. The dark hair that trails under his navel and into his boxer briefs. The thick erection beneath them.
He’s gorgeous. And right now, he’s mine.
“Come here.” I reach out a hand. As he takes it, I hear the muffled trill of his phone from his discarded jeans. “Ignore it.”
He grins. “I don’t have anything nice to say to someone who’d interrupt me right now.” He climbs over me, and I lie back, welcoming the weight of his body between my legs, the press of his erection through the cotton of his briefs.
He kisses me again, and I lift my hips and cry out at the pressure of him against my clit. How can I be so close to coming apart? He’s hardly touched me
, but I feel my body skating along a precarious ledge. I press my hips down into the mattress to suppress the instinctive grind.
He mutters a curse against my ear. “Don’t stop.”
I grip his shoulders and curl my nails into his skin. “I’m afraid I’ll . . .” My hips jerk under him, and heat whips down my spine. “Jake . . .”
“Just let yourself feel good.” He circles his hips, rubbing himself against me, and God it’s good. It’s heat and pressure and elation, and I want more and less all at once. He sucks at the tender skin of my neck before returning his mouth to my ear. “Do you have any idea how hot it is to see you this turned on? To have you naked under me and know you’re about to come against my cock?” He sucks my earlobe between his teeth, and I hear my own sharp cry. God, that mouth. “I can’t wait to get inside you.”
His words are my undoing. They cut away the last of my restraint and push me over the line between pleasure and release. I rock against him through it—wild and unashamed, my entire body a collection of tiny explosions.
He kisses my neck. My ear. My jaw. The tip of my nose. “You’re so beautiful.”
I drag in one gulp of air after another. I can’t believe I just did that. I can hardly get myself off on a good day, and orgasms with a partner have been rare at best in my experience. But I just dry-humped Jake until I saw stars. “Wow.” I uncurl my fingers from his shoulders and wince. He’s going to have marks from my nails. “Sorry.”
A phone rings again, but this time it’s mine. We both ignore it.
He pushes himself up on one arm so he’s looking down at me. “What are you apologizing for?”
I shrug. “For digging my nails into your shoulders? For finishing before we really got started?”
He grins. “I can handle some battle scars if it means hearing you moan like that.” His eyes search my face. “And I never said you were finished.”
A booming knock echoes through the room. “Jake! Get your ass here now!”
Ava
Jake tenses, and I frown. “Is that Levi?” I ask.
“I think so.” Jake sweeps a kiss across my lips. “I’ll be right back.”
I nod, and he studies my face for a final beat. When Levi pounds again, Jake climbs off the bed and tugs on his jeans, not bothering to zip them. He grabs a hotel robe from the closet and tosses it to me with a wink before he rounds the corner to get the door.
I scramble off the bed and pull on the robe. I try to listen, but I can’t make out their murmurs until Jake says, “Okay. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Funny. Two minutes ago, I was naked and rocking under Jake, but when he comes back around the corner and gathers his shirts off the floor, I feel awkward and self-conscious. His shoulders are tense, and stress is written all over his face.
“Mom’s in the hospital.” He tugs his undershirt on over his head.
I blink, and my worries about me and Jake fizzle away, replaced with concern for Kathleen. “What happened?”
“She fell—broke her ankle and hit her head pretty good. Shay found her passed out on the floor in her bathroom. They’re still in the ER, but they’re getting Mom a room.” He tugs on his shirt, but he doesn’t look at me. He’s already on his way home.
My heart swells and aches all at once. Some guys would call to check in and then crawl back into bed, but this is Jake. Steadfast. Loyal. Reliable. He’s there for his family whether they need him there or not, and if there’s anything he can do to help, he will.
And he’s the same for me.
Shivering, I tighten the robe around me.
“Ellie and Colton will take you home so you don’t have to miss your brother racing.”
“Sure.”
Jake throws his toothbrush and outfit from the track into his bag and zips it up before turning to me. He’s been all business since Levi left, but his expression softens as his eyes meet mine. “Hey.” He drops the bag and comes around to my side of the bed. He cups my jaw in his hand as he studies me. “Are you okay?”
I shiver again. “I’m fine.”
His lips quirk, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “You only say that when you’re not.” He strokes the back of his hand up the side of my neck. “I’m sorry I have to go. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I know you will.” Because that’s who you are. The back of my eyes sting with tears, and I just want him to leave before I cry. “I hope Mom’s okay,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. “Me too.”
Then his mouth is on mine, gentle at first, before turning coaxing and deeper, and when he pulls away we’re both breathless, both staring at each other. Am I the only one who has some thinking to do, or has he been rocked by tonight as well?
“I’ll text you when we get back to Jackson Harbor,” he says softly. “Try to have fun tomorrow.”
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod. He sweeps a final kiss across my lips before slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out the door.
I listen to the heavy door click closed and crawl into bed, where I draw my knees to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut.
Jake offered to give me a child because that was what I wanted. I was going to let him because my wish to be a mother made me blind to my own selfishness, and maybe more than that. Maybe on some level I knew I wanted the nights with Jake too. But suddenly, I’m greedy for more.
Ava
Five years ago . . .
Looking my fiancé in the eye isn’t easy. I told him that Jake kissed me, that Jake said he was in love with me. That confession alone wouldn’t have been so bad, but I’m a full-disclosure kind of girl. When I told him, I confessed that I kissed Jake back, that I felt something I shouldn’t feel.
Harrison looks at me differently now, and tonight the questions in his eyes mirror the questions in my heart. I slide the steaks onto plates and toss sliced tomatoes, peppers, and olives into the salad.
Harrison is very traditional, and he waits at the dinner table while I serve. He’s said that’s how he was raised, and he always thought there was something special in the way his mom treated his father. He believes that’s the secret to their lasting marriage. When I saw his mother in action, I decided I’d give Harrison the same treatment she gave her husband. Tonight, however, having him watch me as I bring the plates and bowls to the table, I feel less like the adored spouse and more like the chastised servant.
That’s just your guilty conscience, Ava.
When all the food is on the table and I’m finally in my seat, he pours me a glass of wine.
“Have you thought any more about a wedding date?” he asks.
“Maybe we shouldn’t set one yet.” My voice gets caught on the emotion in my throat and hitches, and then my eyes fill with hot tears. I love Harrison, and I’m so angry at Jake right now for ruining days that should be full of excitement and celebration. I’m also mad at myself. If those old feelings hadn’t come rushing to the surface the second his mouth came down on mine, I’d have been able to brush this off. I’d be planning my wedding right now instead of hurting the man I love.
“Because of Jake?” Harrison asks.
I shrug. We both know the answer to that question.
“Ava, I love you,” he says. “And I thought you loved me.”
“I do!” My chest squeezes. “Of course I do. But if I have feelings, I should . . . It’s not fair to you.”
“He’s manipulating you to control you.”
I blink at Harrison. That doesn’t sound like Jake at all.
Harrison rubs the back of his neck and leans back in his chair. “I didn’t want to upset you, baby, but maybe you need to know. After you told me what happened, I confronted Jake.”
“You did?”
His eyes meet mine, and he nods slowly. “He kissed my girl. I couldn’t do nothing.”
“Harrison, what did you do?”
He draws in a long breath. “I didn’t hurt him. Don’t worry.” He sh
akes his head and looks away. “I went to the bar, ready for a fight. I was so angry. I called him on what he did. What he said to you. And do you know what he said to me?”
My heart is in my throat. I haven’t talked to Jake since I sent him away three days ago. “What did he say?”
“He said you were his best friend, but his feelings stopped there. He told me you are nothing more than a sister to him, but he’d have said anything to you to keep you from marrying me.” He holds up a hand. “I’m not discrediting your feelings, but I think you need to understand his.”
Nothing more than a sister. My gut twists around the blade of those words, and the pain makes my breath shudder.
“I’m not saying he doesn’t have feelings for you, but I don’t think they’re the feelings you want him to have,” Harrison says. “Before you break my heart and walk away from our life together, I want you to think about the fact that this guy never looked at you twice before I put a ring on your finger. I want you to think about his words. He admitted he’d have said anything to you to keep you from marrying me. What kind of friend is that, Ava? Are those the words of a man going after the woman he loves, or are those the words of a selfish child who thinks his playmate is being taken away?”
The blade twists again and again in my stomach until there’s nothing left. I feel empty inside, hollowed out. I push my plate away. My appetite is gone. “How can you still want to marry me after all this?” I ask. “I love you, Harrison, but I don’t want to misrepresent what I’m feeling right now.”
“You’re confused,” he says.
I nod. Hot tears roll down my cheeks. I’m so confused.
His chair squeaks against the tiled floor as he pushes it back and steps to my side of the table. He turns my seat so I’m facing him but stops me when I try to stand. Lowering himself to his knees in front of me, he cups my face in his hands and looks up into my eyes. “We love each other,” he says. “I’m not going to pretend this hasn’t hurt me, but I don’t want to lose you either.”
