When Jake’s fingers finally brushed against the blindfold, he laid one hand flat against her brow and used the other to turn her face to him. By the time he slid his hands around to uncurl the soft knot that held the scarf in place over her eyes, Claire had almost forgotten how to breathe. She was weak and powerful at the same time, her body reduced to thick putty beneath his touch, though still coiled and ready to spring forth and fill the space between them.
In one movement Jake pulled both the red scarf and Claire’s hair loose, freeing them both in single a cascading motion. Claire blinked as her eyes adjusted to the pale light, letting both the man leaning over her and the room around them come into focus. Her eyes found Jake’s first, flashing like cat eyes in the night. He was reclining over her, hair tousled over his face and still wearing the button-down shirt that she’d seen under the collar of his pea coat in the evening stroll that seemed forever ago. Claire was surprised to find, contrary to the boldness she felt in his hands, that the expression on Jake’s face was hesitant. He looked at her with a sort of longing dancing through his eyes.
Claire lifted her hand to caress Jake’s cheek and draw him closer to her. She was hungry—starving—for the taste of his lips against hers. With her hand on his face, Jake closed his eyes, giving Claire a moment to commit to memory every exquisite angle of his jaw, the curl of every eyelash against his cheek, the wide smear of his lips. She traced lines up and down his cheek, the feathery dander of his hair tickling across her skin. Every line she drew seemed to glow in the darkness, as if she were finger-painting a star-studded map across his skin.
When she was sure she’d never forget this perfect moment, Claire moved forward and he stayed still, letting her come to him. She kissed him softly, breathing him into her as she pulled him down into the pillowy depths beneath her. Claire abandoned the effort to hold herself apart from him and pushed her lips harder against his, until she could feel the hardness of his teeth against her lips as readily as the hardness of his flesh against hers.
Jake moaned inside her mouth. The deep hum vibrated against Claire’s lips and her body answered, bowing upward beneath his as their kiss grew deeper, more intense with every twist of lips and roll of tongue. The innocent love that had begun to flower between them erupted suddenly into blooming fireworks, igniting in colorful bursts something more forceful and more demanding, and they forgot themselves as they lay on a bed of pillows brightened by moonlight.
Chapter 7
His lips never leaving hers, Jake’s breath stumbled into Claire’s mouth as he continued kissing her. She clung to him, and with one hand behind her back holding her steady, he pushed a free hand from under her shoulder and tightened their bodies against each other. His elbows rested against her ribs and his fingers curled around the base of her neck, cupping it gently like the stem of a flower. His other hand found the hem of her dress and slowly began to lift it up, peeling the silk away to expose her prickled flesh to the moonlight that filtered in through the window. Claire lay still as his hands drifted up her body, keeping her eyes closed and counting her breaths that beat anxiously against his while the cloth slid upward over her. Her body seemed to respond to him on its own, helping him by rising as he lifted the dress higher and higher. It was an odd sensation to be undressed by someone else, and Claire mused at the sensation of his hands as they stretched and pulled at the cloth. She felt like every inch the dress lifted exposed more than mere flesh, as if she were being bared, heart and all, under Jake’s hands.
When the dress lay on her chest, her bottom half-uncovered and the lacy bottom of her bra just visible under the bunched midnight blue silk, Jake’s mouth finally broke from hers. “Lift your arms,” he whispered, half as a request and half a plea, his ocean-timbered voice barely heard inside a throaty murmur. He kissed her earlobe and she obeyed without a second’s hesitation, raising her arms into the air above her head. The silk breezed coolly against her neck, pulling her hair along with it as it slid against her neck, and then letting it fall back as Jake pulled the dress free over her head and dropped it. The light that filtered in through the window striped Claire’s flesh in strips of shadow and light. Her skin was pale and smooth in the darkness, interrupted only by the dark bands of her undergarments. Propped above her, Jake’s eyes fell down over the length of her body, running in green streamers from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She kept still as he looked over her. When he met her eyes again, they were bright and glassy, anchored down by the most eager version of his Lost Boy grin she’d seen.
Claire sank back against the pillows and Jake hovered over her, supporting his weight with taut arm muscles. Claire drank in the depths of his gazing eyes, quivering smile, the way his hair cast a mysterious veil over part of his face. It was an interesting view, looking up at someone from underneath them. It was mildly surreal, like looking at a dream.
“I have been waiting my whole life for you.” Jake’s voice sounded satisfied. He pressed his lips against her cheek softly, stamping a kiss as he settled onto his elbow beside her. It was a sweet kiss, simple and polite, and not insistent. His fingers danced along Claire’s upper arm. He was hers for the taking.
Claire reached up and found the hardness of Jake’s chest above her. She played inside the buttons of his shirt and Jake’s breath caught in his throat as she freed them, one by one. His muscled chest appeared behind the gaping cloth, and when every button had been unhinged, Claire fumbled awkwardly at the shoulder of the shirt, begging it to fall down his arms. In the liquid grace he commanded, Jake rolled his shoulders and the shirt slipped down his back and stopped at his wrists. The muscles of his arms and stomach rippled, their lines cut even in the dark. He remained motionless as Claire ran her fingers across his chest, his pulse banging against his throat the only marker that he was a breathing man and not something sculpted. She let her hands push and pinch and fold as they brushed across his nipples and played in the soft fur under his belly button. She marveled at the hardness of his body under the silken smoothness of his skin, at the way his muscles bunched and rolled as he shivered beneath her touch.
When her fingers found the button of his jeans, he moaned a little and shifted anxiously above her. It seemed an autonomic response, unintentional, the man losing a bit of his quiet composure to the need within. His eyes dropped to watch her fumble with the clasp until it popped open, and when she pulled at the zipper, he let her, though his body shook with anticipation. This was as far as she could go without his help and she paused, rolling her eyes back to his face, his eyes closed, and his breath coming in bursts through a mouth limp with need. He opened his eyes to her watching, and that sheepish grin bloomed across his mouth. His fingers dripped languidly away from her neck and he laid both of his hands flat on the floor, his body in a push-up position over her. His lips found hers again as he writhed above her purposefully, using bare feet to pull his pants downward and shuck them off his feet. His body was suddenly naked inches above her, his heat pushing against her like a beating fire.
She held Jake’s gaze above her, bit her teeth against her lower lip, and let her eyes move slowly downward, from his face to his neck, then over the swell of his shoulders, and across the smooth, unblemished flesh of his chest and stomach. Her eyes passed over the acorn tattoo engraved at the valley of his hips, and she gulped, plunging her eyes below to what trembled heavily in the space between their bodies. She let herself touch him then. Jake moaned deep in his throat, and his head fell to the crook of her neck, his breath in gasps. Without warning, he thrust his body backward, lifting away from her, and leaned back onto his heels. His hands rested on the dips of her waist and as he straddled her, she forced her eyes up to meet his.
The eyes that glowed back down at her held a blazing intensity that Claire had never seen on a man’s face, but under them, Jake’s mouth was still the one she’d seen so many times before, stretched in the grin that belonged only to him. He pulled his hands from the sides of her body, running his fingers a
gainst the lacy fabric of her bra and rolling the tops of her breasts under his palms until he found the clasp between them. Jake cupped her supple flesh in his hands, his thumbs exploring the circular curve, and then he folded so that his head lay on her chest and his lips were able work their way down her stomach and tickle against the dips of her hips. Claire couldn’t help but squirm under the feel of his mouth on her body, small sighs bleating through her lips at each brush of lips, each touch of tongue wet against her skin.
When his lips finally stopped at the edge of Claire’s panties Jake rolled his eyes up and looked at her from between fallen locks of sandy hair. He waited. Claire met his eyes between the heaving valley of her breasts.
“Yes,” she nodded, breathless. “Yes.”
With careful teeth, Jake pulled the cotton away from her skin, using his fingertips to draw the fabric to her knees. She bent her legs so he could pull them off, and he tossed them indiscriminately behind him. Claire could feel his heart beating wildly inside her parted legs, pounding vibrations that echoed against the part of her body that pulsed back.
By the time Jake slid his body upward against hers and pressed his mouth to hers, Claire’s body was a limbless, writhing mass of desire beneath him. “Yes,” he confirmed, his voice deep and strained.
She could only nod, unable to convince her throat to form words. Claire hooked her hands under his arms and around his shoulders, pulling at his body above her. He came easily and arched his back to hold the hardest parts of him barely apart from her. His smell, rich and earthy and masculine, filled up her senses.
“I love you, Claire Darling.” Jake mouthed the words in Claire’s neck.
“I love you, too, Boy.” Her words came out so hushed that she barely heard them, but his lips pressed against her neck telling her that he’d heard them too.
“Kiss me.”
Claire’s lips found his as he lowered down on top of her with his elbows anchored on either side of her head. His weight pinned her body gently against the cushions. He cupped her face inside his hands and kept his mouth locked on hers. With a swiveling motion, he drew his hips into her. Claire let her arms splay open, fingers grasping at the pillows beneath her. She wailed a sonata of sounds into Jake’s mouth as she drowned in an undertow of pleasure.
Chapter 8
When the first rays of morning fought their way through the lazy dimness of Jake’s apartment, Claire stirred and opened her eyes to an unfinished, industrial-looking ceiling. It was not really a ceiling at all, but an open expanse of rafters and metal pipes stitched together beneath a roof easily fifteen feet above her. Long metal beams ran the length of the roof to the floor. Claire’s eyes wandered down the beams to the exposed wall below, a simple gray cobblestone bricked around wide, paned windows that ran the length of the room. Morning sunlight poured in the naked glass in squares, making the window look an ice tray lit on fire.
She squinted as her eyes adjusted. Jake’s sleeping profile lay on the pillow beside her, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. The corners of his lips curved in a faint smile and his arm was flung dreamily over Claire’s stomach. Only a thin piece of cloth separated his bare skin from hers, and the realization awakened the slumbering butterflies inside her belly and sent them whirring up into her throat. Claire studied the details of Jake’s fallen eyelashes, the way the golden morning sun played against the fine hairs of his chest as it rose and fell in long, deep, dreaming breaths.
Gently, careful not to wake him, she drew the pad of her finger down the angled line of his face, tracing over the knot of his jawbone and diving into the hollow of his cheek. His lip twitched a bit at the touch and he tossed his head, sending sandy waves crashing over the pale dunes of his face. He nuzzled closer, his arm drawing her body into him. Claire lay beside her lover. The girl she had been yesterday had been changed forever, reborn as a woman, sensual and confident, basking in the embrace of the man she loved.
Claire lay still as Jake slept, enjoying the easy weight of his arm and studying the room around her. In the coppery petals of early morning, the apartment awakened inch by inch, the darkness pushed from every corner as it filled with sunlight. It was wide and open, a giant square with no physical separation but interrupted by overflowing bookshelves stuffed with books of every shape and size. Guitar picks littered the shelves, scattered like coins at the bottom of a wishing well. A large fan twisted lazily in the corner, tickling the edges of papers engraved with the deep strokes of Jake’s handwriting—makeshift manuscript pads and scraps of paper covered in thin, hurried scratches. Behind her stretched a long black table, and if Claire craned her head enough, she could see a messy bed, made up of mattresses stacked on top of each other in front of a simple unfinished headboard. It was empty except for a jumble of lumpy pillows and blankets that hadn’t made their way on to the nest Jake had created for them. A small army of lamps and candles had been arranged as if by accident across every flat surface.
The whole of the loft apartment felt comfortable and inviting, an easy-going place to relax and create in quiet intimacy, so different from the cold, porcelain chambers of her own apartment. It was boyish and uncomplicated, what a boy’s tree house might look if he’d taken his things out of the branches and moved them inside real walls.
The only departure from the rustic simplicity of the apartment was a stainless-steel centerpiece in an otherwise very unadorned kitchen—a large coffee contraption situated smugly on the countertop. Claire stretched her arms over her head and smiled. She, too, had a magnificent coffee machine on her kitchen counter, an overly expensive stainless steel tower that would brew any café beverage in a matter of seconds. Eyeing the coffee pot made Claire thirsty. She kept the automatic timer set on hers so that when her morning alarm roused her awake, the steam from a fresh cup was already wafting its way up to into her bedroom. It was how Claire thought of mornings—scented with the warm, tingling smell of fresh coffee.
Like most of the other shiny expensive things in her apartment, the coffee machine had been a gift from Davie, who always took coffee, and other grown up things, very seriously. If you are going to have something, he was fond of reminding Claire, you get the best. Everything else was a waste of time and money. Coffee machines, he’d told her as without even the tiniest twinge of exaggeration as he unpacked the big silver monster from its box and pieced it together, were no exception.
Oh, Davie!
Claire groaned. She had forgotten all about Davie in the milieu of last night, and guilt welled up inside her, raging almost as terribly as he likely would whenever she returned his inevitable swarm of unanswered calls. She couldn’t believe she had been so careless as to forget her promise to call him back. It wasn’t that she’d planned it, of course, but everything before last night seemed almost a lifetime ago—the cab ride to Jake’s apartment itself was only a vague blip in her memory. Once Jake’s hands had caressed the uncharted places of her body, her tormented, loneliness and wanting heart both rewritten with everything of Jake’s on top everything of hers. Still Claire felt wretched. That act of selfish neglect like a sharp knife of betrayal in her heart.
Davie would be furious with her, there was no way around that, his anger masking his inevitable hurt. They’d argued, she’d avoided him all day, and then deserted him when he was still upset, boarding a plane to who knew where. To make matters worse, she could see her cell phone, tossed arbitrarily against the silky pink pillows on her bed and left behind as she’d rushed out of her apartment as if she’d never planned to call him.
Claire groaned softly into the crook of her arm, feeling terrifically sorry for herself and trying not to imagine how upset Davie probably was, stewing in some anonymous hotel room and waiting for her call. She didn’t even have to try very hard to see him pacing back and forth in front of a window overlooking some city, tie undone, his dark eyes scanning the city sky scape as if he could pluck her out from between the lights and force her back from this secret place. Eventually he’d throw the
phone, as he was apt to when his temper flared, and he’d lean against the window, staring out to mumble slurs at the stars.
Jake stirred against her, his breath sweet on her throat as he nuzzled into her neck. The soft tickle of his eyelashes skipped across her skin as he peeled his eyes open, catching the light and sparkling in the morning sun. “Good morning,” he purred on her neck and tucked his arms tighter around her in a warm cocoon before he slipped back to sleep. Maybe he could hide her from the ticking time bomb that was Davie.
Inside Jake’s arms, Claire could push unhappy thoughts out of her mind to a place she could worry about later. Snuggled against him, she felt like her childhood stuffed animals must have felt like as she clung to them night after night like she was clinging to life itself. Perhaps after her parents had died, she had been, crying herself to sleep in the beds of strangers. And then, just when she was sure she’d be alone forever, Tabitha, with her powdery cheeks and quiet lullabies, and Mark, with dashing black hair and a kind, stoic smile, had taken her home to live with them in their airy farmhouse surrounded by oak trees and swaying grass. They had been kind and loving, giving her a room with a beautiful princess canopy bed and a real candle nightlight they let her keep burning all night.
The Acorn Tattoo: The Neverland Series Part 1 Anniversary Edition Page 5
