Straight Up Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 2)

“You’d seriously go with me to this thing?” She rolls to her back and blinks at me, as if trying to process what I’m saying, then shakes her head. “I would have thought a baby shower with my ex-husband would be the equivalent of one of Dante’s circles of Hell for you.”

I grin. “Oh, it is, but it might be a little enjoyable, too . . . assuming I get to play the part of your boyfriend.”

She grunts. “Why would you want to do that?”

I can only think of two hundred reasons off the top of my head, including but not limited to any excuse to touch you. “He was always jealous of me, Ava. He couldn’t stand how close we were. You know he invited you to this thing to be a dick, so I say we strike back. I’ll go with you and we’ll pretend we’re together. It’ll make him crazy.” Pretend we’re together seems like such an odd thing to say to a woman who I’m planning to make a baby with, but that’s par for the course in our relationship right now.

“I’d love for you to go with me, Jake, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Don’t say another word,” I say. “I’ll be your plus one.” Her feet are by my legs, and I pull them into my lap.

She arches a brow as my thumbs dig into the pad of her heel. “A date to a miserable baby shower and a foot rub? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Who said you deserved it?”

She yanks her foot from my hand and kicks my thigh playfully. “I absolutely do. I’ve had a long day.”

“In that case, relax.”

With a sigh, she slides her attention back to the TV. There are certain things I’ve gotten away with in my years as Ava’s best friend, and one of them is the occasional foot rub. While I’ve never been a foot guy, with Ava, any sort of contact gets me hard.

The first time I had an excuse to do this was after I forced her to do a 5k race with me. I hadn’t realized she was wearing crappy five-year-old tennis shoes, and her feet were wrecked afterward. The foot rub was the obvious way to apologize for making her do something she hadn’t wanted to do in the first place.

After that, the door was open, and from time to time I’d rub her feet after a long day at work or after she pulled a double at the bar for me. I never let it go any further than that. Never let my hand slide up her leg to work out the knots in her calves or feel the soft skin at the back of her thigh just above her knee.

But tonight, things are different. Tonight, I work my way up, rubbing her delicate ankles before kneading the muscle of her calf. I hold my breath, waiting to see how she’ll react to my touch. She gasps when my hand goes a little higher and sweeps behind her knee. Then she flips from her side to her back, and the positioning gives me better access.

“You seriously could have been a massage therapist,” she says, scooting toward me.

Her calf sweeps over my crotch and the really fucking obvious erection I have happening there, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“It’s gotta be tough for guys who do that for a living,” she says. “Rubbing on naked women all day.”

“Yeah, sounds really tough.” I trail my hand up to the back of her thigh and run my thumb along the outside of her hip—a spot I know gets tight on her because she’s always fighting to get it stretched out.

She gasps, but this time it’s not just a surprised gasp. This time it comes with that look of fear in her eyes. As if she’s not sure what comes next and she’s not sure she’s okay with it.

“Relax.” I don’t want her to be scared. I want her to be as hungry for me as I am for her.

She pushes herself up with one hand and grabs my shirt with the other. When she tugs me down so I’m lying over her on the couch, it’s my turn to draw in a sharp breath. Because she’s pulling my mouth to hers. Ava’s soft lips under mine. Ava’s body under mine.

I follow her lead—first, just a brush of lips as I shift my position. She draws up a knee, allowing my body to settle over hers. She slides a hand into my hair and sweeps her tongue over my lips.

Fucking hell.

She could make me come undone so easily.

“Ava,” I whisper against her lips, and her body trembles under my hands. I love this—her reactions, her uneven breaths. I want more. So much more.

My brain is trying to get too many steps ahead—undressing her, touching her everywhere, kissing her everywhere, laying her out on her bed and memorizing the way she looks tangled in sheets.

I push all that away and focus on now. The soft sweep of her lips against my mouth, her hands pressed against my chest and working their way down my body until— “What are you doing?” I still have my fucking shoes and shirt on, and she’s unbuttoning my jeans.

“I’m ready,” she says, then her hands go to her pants and she pushes them down her hips, exposing her pink cotton panties.

I climb off her and hold up my hands. “You’re what?”

She sits up, her cheeks going pink. “I’m ready to have sex.”