“Tonight isn’t about anything but you and me. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m touching you tonight because I want to touch you. I’m going to make you come just because it feels good, and because I’ve had too many fucking fantasies of getting my mouth between your legs to pass it up now.”
I shudder in his arms, faintly aware of the doors sliding closed. “You don’t have to—”
“Fuck have to. Tonight is about want. You hear me?” He shakes his head slowly, studying me. “Anything you want. But no sex. That’s something we both have to wait for.”
I nod my understanding, and part of me is grateful. I want Jake to touch me. I want this to be about us and not about my big plans—and he’s giving me that without me ever asking for it. He knows I need it because he knows me.
He punches the button on the wall, and the doors slide open again.
My legs aren’t much better than noodles beneath me as he leads me out of the elevator, but I somehow make it to our room. He opens the door for me, and before it has the chance to swing closed behind him, I grab a fistful of his shirt. “I want it to be good for you, too.”
“Good.” He grabs my dress in both his fists and yanks it over my head. I don’t have time to feel nervous about him seeing me in my bra and panties because one second he’s tossing my dress onto the floor, and the next he has me pressed against the wall. His hand slides between my legs, rubbing the lace over my clit.
“You’re wet,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So fucking wet.” He kisses his way down my neck and across my collarbone—a symphony of lips and teeth and tongue that signals hunger more than seduction and leaves me feeling desirable in a way I’ve never felt in my life.
He drops his head to my breast and sucks at me through my thin bra. When I cry out, he pulls his head away and pinches my nipple between his finger and thumb. “I’m going to have so much fun discovering all the ways I can make you come,” he murmurs. His mouth trails lower, skimming over my belly, his tongue grazing my navel until he’s on his knees before me with his hands on my ass and his forehead resting against one hipbone.
I slide a hand into his hair. “Jake, you . . .”
His eyes are hot when he tilts his face up to me, and the intensity there makes the words clog in my throat. He shakes his head. “Don’t you fucking dare give me a you don’t have to speech right now. I already told you, tonight is about pleasure, and I want to feel you. I want to taste you. So don’t tell me to stop unless you don’t want this.”
“I want you to . . .” My voice wobbles on the words. “I want to feel your mouth on me.” I’m so nervous about letting the words out that they’re too soft. He holds my gaze for five thunderous beats of my heart, and I think he might not have heard me at all. But in a flash, I see that he did. I see it in his eyes and hear it in the guttural rumble of his groan. He heard every word.
“Fuck yes.” He dips his head to nuzzle me between my legs. He groans, and I feel the vibration of the sound right against where I’m hot and wet. Where I’m aching. His fingers curl under the string of my thong, and my legs shake as I wait for him to pull it off.
Instead, he stands, eyes all over me. “You want this on when my mouth is on you?”
I shake my head.
He steps back. “Then take it off, baby.” His eyes trail over me—the modest swell of my breasts, the flat of my stomach, my thighs. “Let me see you.”
I unhook my bra with shaking hands. I’m already wearing so little that there isn’t much surprise left, but I’m still as nervous as a virgin bride. I want to be everything to Jake. I want to be his fantasy. When I slide the straps down my arms, delicate lace cups fall to the floor, and his nostrils flare.
“Fuck yes.” His eyes are all over me. “So fucking perfect.”
I catch his eyes as I loop my thumbs into the straps at my hips and tug until this last scrap of covering falls to my feet, then I step out of my shoes.
“This is happening.” He shakes his head slowly, eyes scanning every inch of my face—trying to read me or memorize me. Both?
I swallow hard because I can’t believe it either, and I’m scared to admit even to myself just how long I’ve wanted this. “I like the way you look at me.”
“How’d you think I’d look at you?”
I shrug and swallow the words lodged like a fist in my throat. Now’s not the time for insecurities. This is a moment for bold passion and frantic touches, but Jake wants to know, and it feels important. “I’ve always wanted to be more.” I take a step toward him and wave a hand down my body. “More hips, more boobs, more ass.”
“Nah,” he says softly. “You don’t need more of anything.” He lifts a hand to cup my breast and grazes a thumb across my nipple. His greedy eyes are all over me. “This is you, Ava. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten myself off imagining you showing me this body? Imagining you letting me touch it?”
“Really?” My voice cracks on the word—like a shell breaking and releasing my fears to puddle at my feet.
“I’ve pictured you so many times that you’d think I would have gotten it right.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “And yet you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
My insecurities fade away, replaced with boldness from the awe in his eyes. “I’ve thought about you too.”
He lifts his head, his eyes locking on mine. “Have you?”
I nod. “Every night this week I’ve touched myself thinking about the things you said to me.” I lick my lips. The admission leaves me exposed, but I like the feeling. This is what it’s like to strip myself bare for Jake. To show him where I’m most vulnerable. “I don’t normally do that so often, but you’ve made me . . . Jake, you put ideas in my head. Made me want things.”
“This week?”