His hand wraps around the doorframe, clutching at the wood, holding him up. ‘You get it. You’re the only one who gets it.’ He finally looks up and the pain in his eyes is a punch to my chest. ‘I can’t be in control right now.’
I hear the plea under his blunt statement. Memories of our last night together make the silken brush of my robe over my skin nearly painful. My nipples ache, my clit pounds, and every nerve stands to attention, focused on the pleasure my body knows he’s offering. But there’s something different in the air. This moment is different. As much as I want to help him, to ease his pain, the petals strewn over this path do nothing to hide the fact that it’s leading straight to hell.
‘What about your promise?’ I whisper. ‘You already hate me enough.’
He tries to laugh, but it’s strangled. ‘I don’t think I could ever hate you.’
My heart stutters at those words and I have to make a conscious effort to breathe.
He doesn’t give me time to process his admission. His voice is gravelly, rough. ‘Help me forget tonight.’
Against all my better judgement, I swing the door open and walk away back into my apartment. Well, I try to do that. The problem is that when I turn away, Jake reaches out and takes my hand, spinning me back toward him. I collide with his solid form. My hands flutter against his chest, but it’s far too late.
One of his hands flexes on my hip, the other is on the back of my neck, and his lips hit mine with the force of a freight train. All coherent thought evaporates and I’m reduced to base need. Animalistic sounds. The taste of his lips and tongue and the sharp nip of his teeth against my mouth.
I drag him inside as much as he pushes me. His hand leaves my hip and a second later, the door closes behind us. The finality of that noise should make me stop. Should, because nothing on this earth could make me stop kissing Jake right now.
He’s ravenous. Each kiss is deeper, hotter, wetter.
I score my nails lightly down his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. When I hit the hem of his shirt, I pull my mouth from his long enough to pull the fabric up. He makes a noise of exasperation, but goes with the movement, ripping it over his head and flinging it to the floor.
The lamp’s light only highlights the lines of his musculature. His chest heaves and his arms tense as they fall back to his sides, muscles flexing. My eyes snap to the sharp V disappearing into the band of his jeans, leading down to his narrow hips.
He’s in motion again, ignoring my staring. He reaches out and grabs the tie of my robe. The knot falls apart with little resistance and the silk whispers as it gaps open. He takes a sharp inhalation, fingers tracing the narrow strip of my exposed skin, sliding from the top edge of my panties over my stomach, up my sternum, and resting lightly against my collarbone. Both his hands slip under the robe and he slips it off my shoulders.
His advance moves me toward the couch and when the back of my legs hit it, he presses against me. I lose myself in his kiss, until his hands snake around to grasp my ass, squeezing gently. His mouth dips away from mine for a moment as he slides his hands down to the back of my thighs and lifts me in a smooth motion. I cling to him, running my hands over his shoulders and his hair. He lowers me so I’m sitting on the edge of the couch while he kneels before me.
His eyes are dark and focused when he pulls away. ‘Relax,’ he orders and his mouth is on my breast. His tongue swirls around my nipple, drawing it to a firm point, while his hand cups my other breast. My gasp spurs him on and with each suck, flickers of answering arousal grow lower. He switches sides and my legs fall open wider. He makes a rumble of approval and presses closer to me, claiming whatever space exists between our bodies.
I forget about his other hand until it slips between my legs and rubs against the cotton of my panties. I moan and my hips jerk forward. His lips shift against my breast and some part of me knows he’s smiling.
‘You’re on fire,’ he mutters. ‘And soaked.’
I flush, but don’t want him to stop.
Now that he knows how sensitive I am, he establishes a rhythm, the gentle pressure of his fingers mimicking his mouth. I squirm, trying to escape the sensation, and he leans forward, using his weight to pin me in place. He continues the divine torture until I dig my fingers in his shoulders, begging him, ‘Bedroom.’
He ignores me. The separation of his mouth from my breast is one I dislike too much. Stubble rasps against my skin when he kisses the tender flesh between my breasts, his lips trailing lower and lower. His fingers slip under the edge of my panties and he pushes them down.
‘Lift your hips,’ he demands.
I obey without argument, without thought. He drags them out from under me, sliding them slowly down my legs, making sure I know exactly what he’s doing. Once they’re off my feet, he drops them to his side. I try to close my legs, but his hands push against the inside of my knees, preventing me from accomplishing it.
‘No, baby,’ he whispers and strokes a finger through the curls at the junction of my thighs. ‘This is exactly where I need to be.’
He spreads my legs apart further and the planes of his face sharpen as he looks at the most intimate part of me. I open my mouth, but my protest is cut off when he nuzzles me, tongue flicking out to trace my clit.
The air leaves my lungs with a shudder and I freeze. Another slow, soft lick and he pulls away. He kisses the inside of my thighs, returning to trace his tongue down one side of my labia and up the other. One of his hands slides up from my hip, clasped around my ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast.
He coaxes me higher and higher, making noises of contentment when I twitch against him or groan when he does something that sets a cascade of tingles crashing through my body. I don’t know how long he stays there, focused solely on me, but a gentle suck and flick against my clit leaves me tottering on the edge.
Desperate, I do something I’ve never dared to do with a man. I grab his hair, trying to be gentle and surely failing, and grind myself against him.
‘Harder,’ I demand.
The hand at my ribs clenches and he wraps his free arm around my ass and hauls me tightly against him. His tongue darts out, sliding roughly over and over until each press matches my rapid breathing. My back arches from the couch, my head falls back, and my hips lock in place.
He growls in approval and I cry out his name, jerking as he continues to wring the orgasm from me. Only when I slump against the back of the couch does he draw back. The quick huffs of air escaping him send goose bumps skittering over my skin. But it’s the look in his eyes that gives me pause.