Stripping It Down

by Alden, Jami

  He may have kissed her, but she'd made the first move. Rubbing up against him on the couch. Taking off her shirt so he was sure to see there was no bra under her paper-thin tank top. And she'd encouraged him to go further, shoving his hand up her shirt and down her shorts as she’d pulled at his clothing.

  And yes, the actual sex had been painful, embarrassing, and disappointing. But what had really hurt was Jake's expression afterward.

  Instead of falling immediately, irrevocably in love after she'd given him the gift of her virginity, he'd looked embarrassed. Ashamed. As though he regretted what had just happened with every fiber of his being.

  So instead of facing the situation like the adult she'd thought she'd been, she'd run up to her room and cried her eyes out into the belly of her teddy bear. And used the experience as an excuse to avoid love and intimacy and tears ever since.

  It never occurred to her, until now, that Jake had been young too.

  In her eyes he'd always seemed so much older and mature. Maybe he was embarrassed and ashamed because he knew he'd botched her first time.

  Maybe he worried what his best friend would think about him doing his little sister on the sofa in the TV room.

  And really, was it any wonder he'd never called her? What twenty two-year-old man — boy, really — wanted to deal with a girl who'd run sobbing from the room after the first time they'd had sex?

  She banged her forehead lightly on the kitchen table. God, she was such an idiot. An immature, emotionally handicapped idiot.

  Maybe if she apologized...You never chase after guys, remember?

  But this was different. This was Jake. The first man she ever loved. The only man she ever loved. The man who, after all these years, proved to her that real love was possible.

  Where's your pride? Are you really going to run after him and beg him to love you?

  Pride? Hah! Pride had gotten her into this mess, and Kit considered it a small sacrifice if she could get Jake to love and trust her again. She didn't care what it took, what kind of blow her ego had to suffer. She had to get him back, had to make things right.

  The question was, how?

  ***

  A little over two weeks later, Kit still wasn't sure if what she was about to do was right. Or if it would work. One thing she was sure of, though, was that the intensity of her feelings for Jake hadn’t changed. Sitting across from him at the rehearsal dinner at the Lighthouse Winery in Napa Valley, her heart felt like one giant, aching bruise.

  He looked beautiful, his dark hair recently cut, gorgeous body set off perfectly in tan slacks and French blue button-down shirt. Kit wanted to think that the sharp cast to his features was due to the same inability to sleep and eat that had plagued her, but her usual confidence in her own appeal had faded considerably in the past two weeks.

  She'd taken special care with her appearance tonight, carefully applying smoky eyeliner and pale lip gloss that made her mouth look like a ripe peach. Her coral print halter-neck dress was tastefully low cut, barely hinting at cleavage while leaving her arms and back bare. She could have been wearing a flour sack for all Jake seemed to care.

  Jake sat across the large, round table, chatting up one of the other bridesmaids, his mouth quirked in a sly half smile at whatever she was saying. He'd managed to ignore her from the moment she walked into the room, as he had for the past two weeks, three days, and six hours.

  To be fair Kit supposed he'd only actively ignored her for that first week or so. After several days of unreturned phone calls and unanswered e-mails she'd stopped trying, and instead geared herself up for confronting him here personally at Elizabeth and Michael's wedding.

  But all of her personal pep talks and plans to run him down bodily if need be fled as he glanced up, met her gaze, and looked past her as though she were a particularly uninteresting houseplant.

  She couldn't ever remember feeling this kind of utter dejection, fearing she was mere seconds away from bursting into tears and making a complete ass of herself.

  She straightened her shoulders and did her best to ignore the knot of hopeless grief squeezing the life out of her. She'd come this far, and now was not the time to give up in despair. Once again she reminded herself that she was a strong woman who went after what she wanted, even if it meant beating the man she loved into submission if that's what it took to convince him.

  That's what she'd do, she vowed. As soon she could get him alone. Although with everyone from Grandpa Ed to fourth cousin twice removed getting up to give a toast, it could be awhile yet.

  Kit's heart gave leap when, midway through dessert, Jake got up

  from the table. It's now or never. She whispered a little prayer, drained her wineglass for fortification, and grabbed her purse.

  Weaving her way through the crowd, she made a beeline for the men's bathroom. Perhaps it was tacky to corner a man while he stood at the urinal, but good manners were the least of her worries.

  She peaked inside the men's but found it empty. Frustrated, she started back toward the table when she saw a shadow moving across the courtyard outside. She slipped out the exit and jogged toward the figure, trying not to snap a heel in the cobblestones. "Jake," she called, and the figure froze.

  She stopped ten feet away, unable to see his face in the shadows cast by the outdoor lights. But his body language all but screamed “Get away."

  It took everything in her not to obey.

  Instead she walked slowly toward him, until she was close enough to see his clenched jaw and cold glare. "Jake, please talk to me, just for a minute."

  "I don't have anything left to say to you."

  "Fine, listen then. Or better yet," she fumbled in her purse and extracted the sheet of paper she was looking for, "read."

  He ignored her outstretched hand. “After what you did, you think I want to read anything you've put on paper?"

  "Why won't you let me apologize?" she cried, nearly stamping her foot at his stubbornness.

  He started to walk away, and she lunged at him, clinging to his back and refusing to let go. "Don't walk away from me."

  He swore and choked as her forearms wrapped around his neck.

  "Fine. If I read this will you leave me alone?"

  She nodded against his back.

  Straightening his shirt, he snatched the paper out of her hand, and for a split second she was afraid he would rip it into tiny bits.

  Instead he brought it about two inches from his face. "Sorry." He smirked. "Can't read it. It's too dark."

  "Auggh!" The Charlie Brown-like sound of frustration erupted from her throat, and Kit pulled him across the courtyard and through the first unlocked door she could find. Heavy and arched at the top, the door lead to the winery's barrel room, she realized as she flipped on a light.

  "Is this okay or do you need your reading glasses?"

  He scowled but started to read the "Stripping It Down" column she'd written the morning he'd discovered her secret identity. The one where she'd confessed to the world that she'd fallen madly in love with Jake.

  She held her breath as he read the first few lines. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, but his expression was remote, unreadable. No reaction at all to the fact she'd admitted she was in love with him.

  He finished the page and handed it back to her. "I'm sure it will be great in your book" was all he said.

  The sickly kernel of hope she'd nurtured for the past two weeks shriveled and died. He wasn't going to forgive her.

  Taking the paper from his hand, she hung her head, sick with the knowledge that Jake Donovan had broken her heart, and this time she had no one but herself to blame.

  ***

  Jake tried to keep his hand from shaking as he handed back the paper. He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching them into tight fists as he fought the urge to pull her into his arms and tell her he forgave her, that she could write any damn thing she pleased about him.

  I've fallen in love...

  He wanted to believe her
so badly it was like a physical ache. But what if it was another lie? What if she was manipulating him to get more material?

  Did he even care if she was?

  Yes, he decided. His pride — at least what was left of it after he’d made a complete ass of himself and let her walk all over him — was the only thing keeping him going these days.

  "There is no book," she said, followed by a soft sniffle.

  Oh Christ, she was crying? Tough, take-no-crap Kit? The sound of her tears hit him like a hammer to the solar plexus. Then her words registered. "No book?"

  She shook her head. "I told them I wouldn't include the columns about you, so they won't move forward with the book."

  That made no sense. After he'd left San Francisco, Kit had sent him several e-mails trying to explain why she'd done what she'd done. Her explanation about the book hadn't improved his attitude, instead proving to him that she was willing to use people she cared about to further her career. That he remained anonymous didn't matter. How could he ever trust her when she could so easily exploit their relationship and twist it for public consumption?

  Though he hadn't forgiven her, he understood how important this book was to her career. It was her big chance to break free of her boring job at the Tribune and have a career writing what she wanted.

  She scrubbed her eyes with her fists and sniffed again. "I know it doesn't matter. It's still out there on the Bustout.com site, but I couldn't let them put it in the book. No matter how I tried to rationalize it, I couldn't do that to us." She paused and stared up at the ceiling in a futile effort to stop crying, before she continued in a trembling voice. "A magazine bought the rights to the column, so I’ll still have that, but the stuff about you will never see the printed page, I promise."

  Jake's mind reeled at this. After he'd read through all the columns, he'd been so sure Kit was a manipulative bitch, willing to do anything to further her career. Now it seemed she was willing to sacrifice it all. "Why?"

  "Because I love you," she cried, sounding exasperated and none too happy about it.

  He couldn't stop the flare of warmth that pulsed through him at hearing her say the words. Not exactly the way he'd hoped to hear them, but he'd take what he could get. "Let me get this straight. You gave up a chance to sell a book to protect me, even though only you and I will ever know those columns were about me?"

  She shook her head. "You couldn't remain anonymous for long. The editor wanted to do a big publicity campaign, and people who knew about us would put two and two together. It wasn't worth hurting you more. And it wasn't fair to you, the way I used the column to get revenge for something I should have gotten over a long time ago."

  Tears poured down her cheeks, her full pink lips trembling at the corners. She always tried so hard to be tough, unemotional, and now she didn't bother to hide her hurt and shame. Or her love. He knew how hard it was for her to admit she cared, to lay herself on the line. Gone was her bravado and confidence. Kit was once again the naive teenager waiting to have her heart crushed.

  God knew he wasn't the man to do it. A slow smile spread across Jake's face as he pulled her into his arms, imagining those green-eyed, black-haired babies she'd mentioned in her column. She stiffened a moment, then melted against him, her body going boneless as she leaned into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, sighing like she’d found the one safe haven in the world.

  She tilted her head back and looked at him with big, gray, mascara-smeared eyes. "Forgive me?"

  Jake could barely speak past the lump in his own throat. “Yeah." It sounded like a croak. He kissed her, tasting salt and Kit, and it felt so good it almost hurt. His lips traced over her cheeks, forehead, even the tip of her red nose. "I want you to write your book, Kit." She started to shake her head. "It doesn't matter what you said, as long as I know the truth."

  "Really?" she asked, her expression uncertain. "You're not going to do that thing where you say it's okay now but hold it over my head for the rest of our lives?"

  He shook his head. "But the next time you write anything about me," he growled, backing her up against a wine barrel that was taller than he was, "it better be all about my enormous dick and how well I wield it."

  Kit let out a watery giggle and threaded her fingers through his hair. "I have a deadline this week. You better refresh my memory."

  ***

  To her delight, he wasted no time. His hands were everywhere, shoving inside the neckline of her dress to cup her breasts, sliding up her thighs to sink into the soft flesh of her ass, left bare by her thong underwear.

  "God, I've missed you," Jake groaned, his hot, open mouth pressed against the sensitive inner curve of her breast. Kit felt a sharp tug at her neck as he undid the hook that held up the bodice. Her breath hissed out as he tongued a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and starting a pulsebeat between her thighs.

  He pulled away long enough to shove his pants and underwear down his hips and tugged hard on the crotch of her panties, shredding the silk fabric.

  His fingers slipped and slid against the moist lips of her sex, coaxing wetness and preparing her for his rough invasion. Hooking a leg over his hips he shoved his cock inside until he was buried as deep as he could possibly go.

  She was pinned, helpless, unable to move as he held her there.

  "You feel so good," he said, holding himself so still she could feel the pounding of his heart against her own, the faint tremors that wracked his body. "Tell me you love me again," he whispered.

  "I love you." She clamped down on him, squeezing him from the inside, kneading his shaft and rocking against him. "I love you so much."

  Licking and sucking at his lips and tongue, she tasted his moans, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes as she realized how close she’d come to never being with him again. Never feeling his hands on her skin, never feeling him sinking so deep he felt like a part of her.

  Never hearing him whisper "I love you" in that low, shaky voice.

  Finally he began to move, short strokes deep inside her, his thick cock brushing against her G-spot with every tiny thrust. She came almost instantly, vaguely aware of his groans as he spurted hotly inside her.

  For a long moment they held each other, leaning against the barrel as they regained their breath.

  Eventually he pulled away, and they made their way across the courtyard to the bathrooms for a quick cleanup.

  Though it was tempting to retreat to the hotel, they returned to the dining room where assorted friends and relatives were still making endless toasts.

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, Jake pulled Kit against him and bent to whisper in her ear, "When we get married, promise me we won't do all those stupid speeches."

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. "You want to marry me?"

  His warm breath tickled her ear as he laughed. "How the hell am I going to keep tabs on you otherwise?"

  Stunned, Kit leaned back against him, closing her eyes as the romantic, idealistic Kit she'd spent the last twelve years smothering had a big, triumphant belly laugh. I told you so.

  Kit had to concede defeat. True love was possible. Not even a hard-headed, broken-hearted, wannabe cynic like C. Teaser could deny it.