Listen to Me (Fusion 1)

But I want to see him, so I turn around and thread my legs through his, hugging him around the middle and burying my face in his chest.

“Just go to sleep, baby,” he whispers against my forehead.

“I don’t want to.”

He tips my face up, frowning down at me in the darkness. “Why?”

“Because what if I wake up and you’re not really here? What if this is just the best dream I’ve ever had?”

“I’m here,” he replies softly. “I’m here for as long as you’ll let me stay.”

Forever.

I’m not ready to say that out loud yet, but damn this feels so good. So right. I missed him so much.

“Sleep,” he says again, and I can’t resist it. My eyes close, and I fall asleep with Jake’s heartbeat in my ear and his arms locked around me.

Chapter Twenty

Jake

I have to convince her that I’m sorry, and that I love her. I need her with me, always.

God, I miss her so much.

I wake, the anguish washing over me, just as it has every day since I stupidly walked out of Addie’s apartment, and then I take a long, deep breath.

I can smell her.

I open my eyes and sit up, looking around the brightly lit bedroom and grin. I’m in Addie’s condo.

And I held her all night while she slept. Well, technically all morning because we didn’t fall asleep until very early this morning, but who’s counting.

She’s mine.

And if I have anything to say about it¸ she’s going to be mine for the rest of her gorgeous little life.

But first things first . . . where the fuck is she?

I pad out of the bedroom and find her in the kitchen, still wearing my shirt, pulling pans out of a cupboard.

“Did I say that you could get out of bed?” I ask sternly. Her head jerks up, those blue eyes round in surprise.

“It’s two in the afternoon, Jake.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I reply and take her hand in mine, abandoning the pans, and the eggs and bacon sitting on the countertop, and lead her back to the bedroom.

“I’m hungry.” I glance back to see her purse her lips in a pout.

I’m going to take that pout right off her pretty face.

Once next to her bed, I lift my shirt off her and toss it aside, then inhale sharply, taking in her amazing, naked body. “Beautiful.”

Her hands drift down my chest to my cock, and I step out of her reach. “Lie on your back.”

“Bossy,” she says with a raise of a brow, but her breathing has increased and I know she’s turned on.

“Do I have to tell you again?”

“No, you don’t.” She lies in the middle of the bed, on her back, crosses her hands over her belly, and watches me with humor-filled eyes. “Now what?”

Oh, baby, just wait.

I don’t answer her. I just smile and watch as she bites her lip, already anticipating my next move.

I spread her legs wide and lean in to kiss her breasts. “Grab your ankles.”

“I’m sorry?”

I lift my head, looking in her eyes. “I want you to grab your ankles.”

“Do you ever say please?”

I blink at her. “Not right now.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to decide if she’s going to trust me with this much control, and finally she complies, gripping on to her ankles as her legs are spread.

“Good girl.”

She giggles. “Good girl?”

“Mmm.” I suck a nipple into my mouth, then lick up her neck and kiss her lips, biting that bottom lip myself. “I understand why you always bite this lip. It’s delicious.”

“You’re in a really interesting mood this morning.”

“It’s afternoon.”

“Whatever.”

I kiss her again, and then with my lips still pressed to hers, I say, “Now I want you to count to twenty. If you let go of your ankles, I’m going to spank you. Hard.”

The muscles in her neck work as she swallows, eyes pinned to mine.

“Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Words, Addie.”

“I won’t let go.”

I trace her body with my tongue, working my way down, but instead of eating her pussy, I push two fingers inside her. “Count.”

“One, two—”

And I begin to finger-fuck her, roughly, my thumb pressing on her clit. Her back arches and she releases her ankles.

“You let go.”

“Wait!” She laughs, shaking her head. “Let me try again.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Okay, we’ll call that practice. Grab your ankles.”

She complies.

“Count.”

“One, two, three, shit, shit, shit . . .”

“Shit isn’t counting. Start over.” I don’t slow my hand, and she groans.

“One, oh my God.”

“He’s not here, baby. Count.” She glares at me, but doesn’t let go.

“One, two, three, four . . .”

“Slower.”

She whimpers, but slows her counting and I resume driving her mad with my hand, watching as her body flushes, tightens, makes me abso-fucking-lutely hard.

She reaches twenty without letting go, and I stop the torture as she sighs in relief.

“Very good.”

She smiles triumphantly.

“Okay, let’s try this.”

“Can I let go of my ankles now?”

I smirk. “Yes, you may. You’re catching on.”

“I had no idea this could be so much fun. I thought it was just dirty, maybe a little toxic to a relationship.”