Jaz chewed one corner of her mouth. ‘I wanted it to be you. That was my stupid teenage fantasy—that you would be the first person to make love to me.’
He gave her a pained look, his eyes dark and sombre with regret. ‘I’m sorry.’
She twisted her lips in self-deprecating manner. ‘I guess that’s why sex has always been a bit awkward for me. I never felt comfortable unless I was in a committed relationship. But even then I often felt I wasn’t up to the mark.’
‘You have no need to feel inadequate,’ he said. ‘No need at all.’
She rested her hands on the wall of his naked chest, her lower body gravitating towards his arousal as if of its own volition. ‘You said “our first time together”. Does that mean there’s going to be a second or a third?’
He put a hand in the small of her back and drew her flush against him, his eyes kindling with sensual promise. ‘Start counting,’ he said and lowered his mouth to hers.
CHAPTER NINE
JAKE HAD NEVER made love with such care and concern for a partner. Not that he’d been unduly rough or selfish with any of his past lovers, but being with Jaz made him realise what he had been missing in his other encounters. The level of intimacy was different, more focused, more concentrated. The slow burn of desire intensified and prolonged the pleasure. Each stroke of her soft hands made his blood pound until he could feel it in every cell of his body. Her lips flowered open beneath his, her tongue tangling with his in an erotic duel that sent a current of electricity through his pelvis. He held her to his hardness, delighting in the feel of her lithe body moulded against his.
He slipped a hand through the V-neck of her bathrobe to cup her small but perfect breasts; her skin was as smooth as satin, her nipples pert with arousal. He lowered his mouth to her right breast, teasing her areola with his tongue, skating over her tightly budded nipple, before drawing it into his mouth as she gave a breathless moan of approval. He moved to her left breast, taking his time to explore and caress it with the same attention to detail.
He worked his way up from her breasts to linger over the delicate framework of her collarbone, dipping his tongue into the shallow dish below her neck. Her skin was perfumed with grace notes of honeysuckle and lilac with a base note of vanilla. He spread his fingers through her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her deeply. Her soft little sounds of longing made his heart race and his blood run at fever pitch. Her tongue danced with his in flicks, darts and sweeps that made him draw her even closer to his body.
He eased her bathrobe off her shoulders, letting it fall in a puddle at her feet. He slid his hands down her body to grasp her by the hips, letting her feel the fullness of his erection against her mound. She moved against him, silently urging him on. He left her only long enough to get another condom, quickly applying it before he led her back to the bed. She held her arms out to him as he joined her on the mattress, wrapping them around his neck as he brought his mouth back down to hers.
When he entered her tight, wet heat he felt every ripple of her body welcoming him, massaging him, thrilling him. He began to move in slow thrusts, each one going deeper than the first, letting her catch his rhythm. She whimpered against his mouth, soft little cries of need that made the hairs on his scalp tingle. He continued to rock against her, with her, each movement of their bodies building to a crescendo. He could feel the build-up of tension in her body, the way she strained, gasped and urged him on by gripping his shoulders, as if anchoring herself.
He reached down to touch her intimately, stroking her slick wetness, feeling her swell and bud under his touch, the musky scent of her arousal intermingled with his, intoxicating his senses like the shot of an illicit drug. Her orgasm was so powerful he could feel it contracting against his length, triggering his own release until he was flying as high and free as she.
This time he didn’t hold back. He couldn’t. He gave a deep groan and pumped and spilled. The rush of pleasure swept through him, spinning him away from everything but what was happening in his body.
Jake had never been big on pillow talk or cuddling in the afterglow. He’d never been good at closeness and contact once the deed had been done.
But with Jaz it was different.
He felt different.
He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she wasn’t just another girl he had picked up hardly long enough to catch her name. She was someone he knew. Had known for years. She was someone who mattered to him. She was a part of his life—always had been and probably always would be.
He felt protective of her, especially knowing his role in what had happened to her. He wanted her to feel safe and respected. To be an equal partner in sex, not a vessel to be used and cast aside.