Give Us a Chance (Wheeler Brothers #2)

by Allie Everhart

  My heart is beating hard and fast. It started with that incredible and unexpected kiss, and beat even harder just now as he said all that. All the doubts I had about him quickly fade away as I realize that he's not just giving me a line. Telling me what I want to hear in the hopes that I'll sleep him. He's really serious. He wants a relationship. With me.

  I'm not sure what to say. I want the same thing, but I'm not ready to express my feelings as openly as he just did, so instead I make a joke.

  "If I agree to this," I say, "are you going to make me do all your tile work from here on out?"

  He laughs. "Shit yeah. You're better than any of the guys I've hired. And a hell of a lot better looking."

  "I guess I wouldn't mind helping out again. I actually had fun doing it."

  "Fuck." He smiles.

  "What?"

  "You're fucking perfect, you know that?" He wraps his arms around me and kisses me again, and we keep it going, despite the fact that it's cold outside and people keep walking past us.

  We eventually make it into his SUV and head over to his apartment. I didn't suggest going to mine because I want to see his place. If he's my boyfriend, I should know where he lives.

  My boyfriend. It's strange to even think that. A week ago I was determined to get him to leave me alone and now I'm his girlfriend.

  "So this is it," Jake says, leading me into his apartment. It's in an old warehouse that's been converted into lofts. The walls are red brick and the ceiling is open, showing the exposed pipes. "What do you think?"

  "I like it." I try to sound enthusiastic but my mood is brought down by the fact that I've already seen this place when I caught a glimpse of that sorority girl's phone as she showed her friends the photos she took of Jake's apartment. Today is Saturday, which means she was here one week ago today. She was in this apartment, having sex with Jake.

  "What's wrong?" he asks, sensing my shift in mood. I've noticed he does that a lot. He's able to read me and know when something's wrong, even when I try to hide it. The only other person who's able to do that is Liza. I'm usually really good at hiding my emotions, so the fact that Jake can read me the way he does kind of scares me. It's just proof that there's more going on between us than I'm ready for. I don't want a serious relationship. A boyfriend, yes, but I don't want to find the person I'm meant to be with at the age of 23. That's too young. That person needs to come along when I'm 30, maybe older.

  What am I saying? I'm not meant to be with Jake. He's just able to read me. That's it. It doesn't mean anything.

  "Nothing's wrong," I say, trying my best to convince him.

  He leads me over to his leather couch which is across from a thick, dark wood coffee table. I like his furniture. It's very masculine and it all goes together and looks good. He has great style. The same is true for how he dresses, from his clothes to his shoes to his watch. It's all perfectly put together. Add in his tall muscular body, that chiseled jawline, those deep blue eyes, and that confident, somewhat cocky attitude, and it's no wonder he has girls falling all over him.

  "I told you to be honest with me," he says, facing me on the couch.

  "I'm fine. Really." I turn my head toward the giant flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. "You want to watch TV?"

  "Ivy." He lifts his hand to the side of my face, guiding my gaze back to his. "Tell me what's bothering you. Everything was fine on the way over here and then you got here and now you seem distant, and a little mad."

  He read me exactly right. That's exactly how I'm feeling. Damn, how does he do that?

  "It's just that uh..." I look down at the couch. "Last week...last Saturday...that girl was here."

  I hear him exhale. "That's what this is about?"

  I raise my eyes and see the frustration on his face.

  "Ivy, I'm sorry. I know this bothers you, but I can't change what happened before we started going out."

  "I know. And I totally get that. But walking in here tonight, I was just reminded of what she said and those photos she had of your place and I just...it pisses me off to think of her here with you."

  His mouth creeps up into a smile. "So the thought of other girls with me pisses you off."

  I huff. "Well, yeah. Obviously. Why wouldn't it?"

  "I knew it annoyed you, but I thought it was because you looked down on the fact that I used to sleep around. Not because you actually like me."

  He knows I like him. Why would he even say that? Does he not believe it?

  I roll my eyes. "Of course I like you. Why else would I still be dating you?"

  He smiles even more. "Because I'm nice to look at?"

  I laugh. "Yeah, you're right. That's it. I keep you around for the eye candy. And you make a great accessory when I'm going out, better than some lame scarf or a pair of earrings. I draw a lot more attention with you on my arm."

  He draws me closer, his hand now behind my neck, his mouth by my ear. "That's not why you're still dating me." His lips graze over my earlobe and a shiver shoots through me, my pulse quickening.

  "Then why am I dating you?" I ask, my voice soft, my eyes closed and my head dropping to the side as his lips brush over my ear.

  "Because we can't get enough of each other. And you know it. You feel it." He skims his lips down my neck, then back up to my ear. "There's this draw that we have to each other," he says in a low deep voice. "It's more than just physical. It's something else. Something about you, about us. It's been there since the day I met you. I felt it, and I know you did too."

  He's right. I just wouldn't admit it to myself. From the moment I saw Jake, I felt something for him. I told myself it was just a physical attraction, but deep down, I knew it was more than that. But I also knew about his reputation so shoved away any feelings I had for him, determined to never get involved with him.

  I swallow. "You don't know that."

  "Then deny it." He purposely remains at my ear, because he knows from my heavy breathing how much it arouses me. But he's also doing it because he knows I won't admit the truth if he's looking me in the eye. He knows me so well it's almost irritating.

  When I don't answer him, he says, "Don't fight this, Ivy. Don't fight how you feel. I know you want to, but don't."

  I slowly nod, my head swimming in thoughts I can't decipher right now because my body is consumed with heat and desire.

  "Tell me you want this," he says, his warm breath tickling my ear. I assume he means sex but then he says, "Tell me you'll give us a chance."

  "I will," I whisper. "I'm willing to try."

  He trails kisses down my neck. "I want to touch you so bad," he says, his voice low, his breathing heavy.

  "Then do it," I whisper.

  He lifts his head and looks at me. "I'm trying to take this slow. Not be the old Jake. I don't want..." He exhales a breath. "I want it to be different with you."

  I smile a little. "That doesn't mean you can't touch me."

  Jake is so used to touching leading to sex that I think he forgot that it's possible to do more than kiss without actually having sex.

  "Then I need you to tell me when it's too much. I'll stop. I promise."

  He's being so sweet about this, so caring, that I actually would have sex with him tonight if my head wasn't so messed up. It's too soon to go there, given how I felt about him just a week ago, and given that last Saturday, he was with someone else. I quickly put that thought out of my head and focus on the here and now, and the feel of Jake's lips moving over mine.

  We continue to kiss as he gently lies me down on the couch. I turn toward him as he lies beside me, nudging my legs apart and sliding his leg between them. He tugs loose the tie at the bottom of my shirt, then gets to work on the buttons, in an even-paced, skillful manner that I find to be very sexy. It seems like everything Jake does is sexy. The way he walks, his voice, his facial expressions, the way he says things. The man oozes sex, so being this close to him, our bodies touching...I want to tear his clothes off and do what I told myself I wouldn't do
.

  His hand slips under my shirt, around my waist, and I suck in a breath at how good it feels. His hand is warm, strong, and feels huge as his long fingers curl around my back, pulling me closer as his kiss goes deeper, his tongue moving in my mouth in a rhythm that's suggestive of what my body is now begging me to let him do. His hand skims up my ribcage to my breast, cupping it, his thumb dipping into the top of my bra, shoving the fabric down to expose my nipple. I moan as his thumb moves over it, and hear him groan in response, the sound reverberating through my chest. I arch my back and his hand immediately goes behind me, flicking open the clasp of my bra. I push him back and sit up enough to take it off, along with my shirt, and see his eyes drift over me.

  "Shit," he says, his tone dripping with desire. "You have a navel ring."

  I smile. "You like those?"

  "Yeah." He eyes it. "Too fucking much."

  He lowers me down on my back and his mouth covers my breast, licking and sucking and driving me wild. His hand is splayed out over my stomach, his thumb circling my belly ring, erupting a flurry of sensations between my thighs.

  I moan again and hear Jake say, "Fuck. You have no idea what that does to me. That sound...shit."

  He moves his leg enough to place his hand on my inner thigh, running it up and down a few times before sliding it under my skirt. When he reaches my panties, he rubs his finger along the strip of fabric between my legs, groaning when he feels how wet it is. Soaked. His mouth returns to mine as his finger slips under the fabric and plunges into me. I break from his kiss and tip my head back, needing to breathe because my heart's beating so fast. When his thumb rubs over the sensitive bundle of nerves, I nearly lose it.

  "Jake," I moan. I arch into his hand, begging for more.

  He's barely started and I'm already almost there, the tension rising, my muscles clenching. His mouth lowers to my belly ring, gently tugging on it with his teeth, then licking the area around it, his hand moving faster, hitting all the right spots.

  "Jake!" I yell, grabbing his hair as I come undone in wave after powerful wave. When I finally come down from it, I feel his lips over mine.

  He kisses me, then says, "You never told me to stop."

  "There was no way in hell I was going to tell you to stop."

  I couldn't. That was incredible. Amazing. Better than anything I've ever felt.

  So there's another reason why girls flock to him. He's not just hot. He also knows how to please a woman. He definitely knows how to please a woman.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jake

  I need a very long, very cold shower after what I just did with Ivy. That was hotter than most sexual encounters I've had. Maybe because we didn't actually have sex. I've heard that the leading-up-to-it part can be more arousing than the sex. I wouldn't know because I always race through that part to get to the sex.

  Or maybe it's just Ivy. I get turned on just thinking about her. So to have her here, lying next to me on the couch, in just a tiny skirt and nothing else...it's no wonder I'm hard as a rock.

  "You want your shirt?" I go to grab it but she stops me.

  "Not yet." She flips on her side, facing me, and undoes my belt.

  I take her hands from my belt. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "Why not?" She kisses me.

  "Because it's too tempting to go farther." But that doesn't mean I'll stop kissing her. I rake my fingers through her silky hair and grasp the back of her neck, my other hand grabbing her ass and yanking her against my body. She grinds into me, slowly moving her hips, and all I can think about is how much I want her. How I want rip that skirt off her and put myself inside her.

  "Ivy," I whisper over her mouth, as she rubs her hand over my crotch. I try to move her hand but she resists.

  "Don't," she says. "I want to."

  Shit. I can't say no to that. I quickly undo my belt and my zipper and shove my jeans down, and the moment she touches me, I almost lose it. She knows exactly what I like, how to work me. It doesn't take long before the tension builds, my body tightening.

  "Shit," I groan as I release faster and harder than I ever have from a simple hand job. Most girls don't know what the hell they're doing, but Ivy does. I don't even want to think about why.

  She lies back on the couch, a satisfied smile on her face.

  "You proud of yourself?" My eyes drift over her breasts and down to that hot-as-hell belly ring. I lean down and run my tongue around it, then kiss her flat stomach.

  "Hey, not again." She laughs.

  "Why not?"

  "Because we already did that."

  "That was nothing. I was just getting started."

  She scoots back against the arm of the couch. "Let's save it for later. I need to recover from what you did earlier."

  I smile, happy that she liked it so much. I think I liked it just as much as her. I loved hearing her moan, watching her writhe in pleasure at my touch.

  She picks up her bra and shirt and sits up to put them on while I excuse myself to the bathroom to clean up. When I return, I go to the kitchen and grab some glasses. "What can I get you to drink?"

  Ivy walks over and meets me by the sink. "I'll just have some water." She takes the glass from me, and when she turns on the water, the sprayer comes loose and shoots water all over both of us.

  "Shit!" She laughs as I grab the sprayer and shut off the faucet. "Sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

  My shirt is soaked and so is hers.

  "You sure about that?" I lean back against the counter, folding my arms over my chest.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I think you did it on purpose." I smile.

  She puts her hands on her hips. "And why would I do that?"

  "So you could parade around my apartment topless and make me take my shirt off."

  She laughs. "Yeah. That was my master plan." She rolls her eyes. "Do you have a dryer in this place?"

  "No. I go to the laundromat. The machines downstairs never work, and when they do work, they're always full."

  "You got a t-shirt I could wear?"

  "You sure you need one? It's hot in here. You might want to go with the topless option."

  She smiles. "T-shirt please."

  "Follow me." I take her down to my bedroom and over to the closet. "There's some in here and some in the dresser. Take your pick."

  She picks out a light blue one that I've had for a while. The cotton is worn and really soft, which is why I still have it.

  "Can you turn around while I change?" she asks.

  "Why?" I unbutton her shirt, kissing her as I do. "I already saw you topless."

  "We shouldn't do this in here," she says looking back at the bed.

  "You're probably right." I lead her into the hall and continue undressing her.

  She laughs. "This isn't much better. We're right next to the bedroom." She pushes me away. "Just let me do it. You work on your own shirt."

  I smile at her as I unbutton it. "You could've just asked me to take it off instead of soaking me with water."

  "It was an accident," she insists. "I swear."

  "Uh-huh." I give her a smug grin as I take off my shirt because her eyes are now glued to my chest. I love it when she looks at me like that. With lust, desire. When other girls look at me that way, it does nothing to me. But when Ivy does, it arouses me, makes me want to please her, and put that blissful smile on her face that appeared after what I did to her on the couch.

  As I go back in my bedroom, she says, "Are you putting on another shirt?"

  "Yeah," I call back. "Why?"

  "No reason."

  "Did you not want me to?" I come back out to the hall and see her wearing my t-shirt. It's huge on her but I like seeing her in it.

  She eyes my chest. "I just...well, you were saying it was so hot in here so I thought maybe you wouldn't want one."

  I chuckle. "Then I'll leave it off."

  "Can I hang these somewhere to dry?" She holds up her clothes. Not just her shi
rt and bra but also her skirt. So all she's wearing is my t-shirt and her panties. Shit. I try not to think about that.

  "Let me grab some hangers." I go in the bedroom and get the hangers, then I show her to the bathroom. "You can hang them on the shower rod." I return to my bedroom and change my jeans because they, too, got sprayed with water.

  We meet up in the kitchen and I say, "Let's try this again. What would you like to drink? And if you say water, I'm getting it this time."

  She kiddingly punches my arm. "It was an accident. What else you got besides water?"

  I open the fridge and she grabs a can of pop and hands it to me. "Just to be safe, you better open it."

  I crack it open and hand it back to her. "Want anything to eat?"

  "I don't know. I'm not sure how long I'm staying."

  "At least until your clothes are dry. That could be a while." I open the cabinet and grab a bag of chips. "This good?" I ask, holding them up.

  "I'm not really hungry."

  "Then I'll eat them. I'm always hungry. Let's see what's on TV."

  We go back to the couch and I turn on the TV and start flipping through channels. "See anything you want to watch?"

  "Fast and the Furious. You just passed it."

  I flip back to it. "You like Fast and the Furious?"

  "Cool cars and hot guys. What's not to like?"

  She's sitting at the end of the couch, her legs tucked under her, wearing only my t-shirt, looking both sexy and cute.

  "Get over here," I say. "You're too far away."

  "I was giving you space."

  "I don't want space. I want you over here." I point to my chest. "Since you banned me from wearing a shirt, I need you to keep me warm."

  She laughs. "I didn't ban you from wearing a shirt."

  "Still need you over here." I pat the spot next to me.

  She moves over and I grab her around the waist and pull her into my side. "That's better."

  We settle in and watch the movie, Ivy tucked under my arm, which is draped over her, our hands threaded together.

  I haven't hung out like this with a girl since high school, in the brief period of time when I was actually attempting to get to know girls instead of just sleeping with them. And I haven't watched a movie with a girl in years. I didn't have time to. Before dating Ivy, my evenings were spent catching up on work, or out at a club searching for my next hookup. And when I was with a girl, she rarely spent the night, and we definitely didn't sit on the couch watching TV.