Trying to get a grip because there was every chance Jay would be late, exhausted, or simply too distracted to want to pick up where they’d left off.
Come to think of it, she’d never been so nervous about a kiss before either. But kissing Jay was a threshold crossed. A line of truth with arrow heads at each end that stretched all the way through her past into her future. Once she crossed that line she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t let Jay go, put herself into situations with her family where she’d been taken advantage of, that she’d hadn’t hurt herself by insisting she didn’t want more from the men she picked to sleep with; well, some of them. By shutting down her own musical talents in a grand tantrum because things hadn’t worked out as expected.
She couldn’t pretend Jay wasn’t the only man she’d ever want to kiss, let inside her body and her heart to stay.
At the next set of lights, she stalled the bike. Disgusted with her lack of cool, she restarted it and gave the finger to the driver who beeped at her. “I’m going to have sex with my boyfriend and it’s a big deal and I’m nervous, you dickweed,” she shouted into her helmet, over the roar of his car as he pulled out from behind her, his mouth moving, and his middle finger raised.
By the time she made it to the hotel, she was full of vinegar and nervous tics.
It was just Jay; who she’d known most of her adult life. Whose hotel she was camped out in. Who she’d gone to bed with last night, whose body she knew how to please, whose mind was aligned with hers. Who’d been giving her daily orgasms.
She got in the elevator and swiped her room keycard over the panel that allowed her up to the private floor where his suite was. It was just Jay, and oh my God, if she didn’t see him again soon, she might need to kick something, or find a puppy and spend all her emotional energy cuddling it.
She got out of the lift and her phone chimed. A message she should check. Maybe the distraction she needed. Passing her helmet hand to hand to fish her phone out of her pocket, she dropped the room keycard, exclaiming in exasperation. A quick text exchange and the problem was solved. Not distraction enough. As she pocketed her phone and bent to pick up the keycard, the doors of the elevator behind her opened.
Jay was on her before she had time to straighten up. His big hand carving over her butt, his little finger sliding over her sex. The keycard slipped from her fingers and she dropped her helmet.
“Well, hello to you too,” she said, laughing, reluctantly straightening up.
He didn’t say a word. He pushed the strap of her bag off her shoulder, taking half of her leather jacket with it, and as she twisted towards him, he backed her into the wall with a thud, one of his hands behind her head, the other at her hip.
If desperation had a color, Jay’s was a roiling ocean. If haste had a smell, it was the lemongrass in the soap he’d used to shower. If destiny had a signature tune it was the way her heart trilled, skipped, and trilled again.
If you believed in immortality, that’s how you’d define the way he kissed her. Breaking with time and the natural order of the world, making a new place for them beyond human constraints.
Evie died and was reborn in the taste of Jay; peppermint and possession; in the passion of him; firm hands, an almost bruising hold, muscles straining, arching into her touch, edgy and deliberate and unstoppable.
Shirtless.
Unzipped.
She was just as intent and desperate, and tangled in the tank he’d pushed up her body to expose her breasts.
After all that time on third base, they were cleared for a home run, down to fuck in the corridor outside the suite and she could hardly stand for the need of it, climbing Jay’s body to hump against his cock.
“Always too many fucking clothes,” he muttered, teeth against her shoulder, his arms under her thighs helping her roll her hips.
If she’d been wearing a skirt, he’d be inside her now. Calendar reminder. Go shopping. She could come like this, but it would be better to wait till they were skin on skin and maybe not in the corridor. He took her daith hoop in his mouth and she forgot about the details, clutching him as an orgasm shook through her. She was still trembling when he walked them to the suite door and had her find his keycard in his back pocket.
She got naked, standing on the bed, while he went back for her helmet, jacket, satchel, his shirt and the other keycard, and she loved him for that as much as for everything he was making her feel. Impatient, sexy, horny, desired. And very, very wet.
“This time I want to be inside you when you come,” he said, stumbling on his jeans in his speed to get them off. He was so engorged and flushed her mouth watered, and all she could do was nod as she went to her knees.
“How, wild thing?” He played a hand over his length, eyes bright, blazing. “How do you want me?”
A decision? He wanted her to choose when she could barely put a coherent thought together. He laughed, a satisfied smile slipping over his face. “Okay then. Like that.”
Like what? Like everything. She opened her knees, heard her wetness click, smelled her want.
“Like you’ve needed this for as long as I have, and you trust me to make it good.”
He was staring at her vulva. She used her fingers to open herself further for him. He made a noise that was part bear in heat, part king of rock and jerked himself once, twice and he was on her, pushing her onto her back, hooking her knee up so he could fit his body between her thighs.
They were mirrored in each other’s eyes when he entered her. Smoothly. Hot and wide and making her ache a little in a needy way; groan when he was fully seated inside her.
“You wreck me, Evie. You feel so good.”
Jay’s voice was honey sizzling on volcanic stone. It made her breath stall. She brought her other knee up, pushing the ache over the barrier of fullness into pleasure and pressed her hips up to feel all of him, loving his grunt, the way the muscles across his chest popped as he pushed up on his arms and snapped his hips.