Page 70 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
“Why?” she asked, shivering. He groaned, his fingers digging into her hip bones, hard and unyielding. And it was only as that thought occurred to her that she noticed something else hard and unyielding, pressing against the lace outline of her panties. She’d forgotten she even packed them until she was getting dressed for the ceremony. But they made her ass look great, a fact she was rapidly becoming aware of as Jake’s erection pressed harder into her back.
“Kate,” Jake said, his tone impossible to read. His fingers still gripped her hips, either stopping or holding her there, she couldn’ttell. He didn’t move, just held her still, his body radiating heat into her skin.
She gathered all the courage it had taken to hang on in that elevator shaft and arched her back, purposefully grinding her hips against his. His reaction was immediate and swift, a groan rumbling through their connected skin as he held her hips down and still, his forehead dropping against the slope of her shoulder. His breath burned her skin where it touched her, hot and fast, like he was having his own version of a panic attack.
There was a murderer loose on the island, Kate had nearly been pancaked by a hidden elevator, and Kennedy was still in danger. But all her worry, all her puzzle-solving, dissipated under the heat of Jake’s caress. She could barely remember to breathe, much less think straight, with his body pressed against hers. Besides, Rebecca wasn’t getting any deader.
“Jake?” she ventured.
“What?” he panted, turning his face so his nose dragged across the curve of her shoulder, like the smell of her was a drug he needed in his system.
“I’m very, very sober,” she whispered.
He gave an unsteady laugh, his mouth against her throat, and she wasn’t shivering from the cold alone anymore. “Are you sure?”
She knew he didn’t only mean her state of inebriation, though she certainly felt drunk on the sensation of Jake’s fingers, Jake’s chest, Jake’s heat. Drunk on Jake. It was an addiction she’d quit cold turkey two years ago, had thought herself long over it, but now, with him pressed up against her, it seemed almost laughable that she would have ever gotten over this. She let her head drop back against him, sighing in anticipation.
“I’m absolutely sure,” she said, raising a hand to his head as he pressed his lips against her throat, using his hands on her hip bones to pull her in closer, both of them panting at the friction it created. “Jake?”
He paused, the tension in his body like a coiled serpent. “What?”
“You have too many clothes on.”
He grazed his teeth over her skin in answer. “Let me fix that.”
“Let me,” she said, already turning in his arms, tugging at buttons and fabric until she finally, blissfully, had his scorching skin against hers.
His lips found hers as her hands tangled in his hair, rising up on her tiptoes to press her entire body against his. It was astonishing how quickly she was getting used to kissing Jake Hawkins, even as it felt like something brand new and incredible every time. It was a feeling she was afraid to get used to, a craving she would carry the rest of her days that she already knew no one else could satisfy. His tongue flicked against hers, a rough slide that turned soft and playful as he traced along her upper lip, his teeth catching the curve of her lower lip and tugging on it.
“God, you taste delicious,” he said, fingers sliding into her hair and pulling her head toward him. “Like a dessert wine, or a plum cake. I want to eat you whole.”
Kate went liquid at the pure lust in his tone, the possessive way his other hand kept hold of her hip as he guided her back toward a bed in the far corner of the room that was blessedly free of stuffed creatures of any kind, her thighs bumping against the soft edge. It was easy to convince herself she was dreaming, that this was all a fantasy, or that she’d really lost her grip and plummeted to the bottom of the elevator shaft and this was heaven. But the feelings were too pointed, too sensory. The soft scratch of his golden chest hair rubbing against her breastbone; the faint trace of orange juice still on his tongue; the way her toes cracked from the cold as she curled them into the lush carpeting.
“You’re cold,” Jake said, his arms sweeping up the flat plane of her back.
“I’m not,” Kate whispered, digging her fingers into the waistband of his dress pants and tugging him closer.
He growled against her mouth as she kissed him again, Kate working the button and zipper on his pants as he flicked her strapless bra open in one deft maneuver. She knew it was probably from plenty of practice, but she didn’t even have the headspace to be jealous just then. Only to be grateful to all those other women for molding this version of Jake, who knew exactly where to touch her to fill up the rest of her headspace.
“You are cold,” he said, shaking his head as he tossed her bra on top of her discarded dress. “Your skin is covered in goose bumps.”
“That’s not why,” Kate said, her nipples tightening into sensitive peaks as they rubbed against his chest.
She finished fumbling with his zipper—with far less finesse—and stripped him down to his underwear, a black pair of boxer briefs that looked like they were painted on. Her mouth watered so hard it hurt. She brushed the back of her hand against him, soft and playful, and he groaned against her lips.
He reached behind her and pulled the fluffy bed coverings free. “In.”
“Fine, but only because I want to, not because you told me,” Kate said, turning around and climbing up on the bed. But Jake’s hands were on her hips, stopping her before she could crawl under the covers, spreading out to span the roundness of her ass. One finger slid under the edge of the lace, running the length of it.
“These are a sin,” he said, his voice hoarse as he leaned down and kissed the edge of the panties along her lower back. His thumbs swept up and pressed into her lower back on either side of her spine. “Why did you even bring these this weekend? What were you planning to do with them?”
“I don’t know,” Kate said honestly. “I thought they would make me feel sexy enough to be confident.”
“And do you?” Jake asked. “Do you feel sexy enough to be confident right now?”
“I…” Kate faltered. Did she feel sexy enough? It had never really been a consideration for Kate, certainly not around someone as effortlessly sexy as Jake. But how did she feel now, knowing he wanted her, knowing she wanted the same? Could she measure up to her own expectations, much less his?
“Should I tell you?” Jake whispered, leaning forward, his breath warming the length of her spine. He gently guided her up on the bed, laying her down on her belly and pulling the covers up over her legs. The rest of her he warmed with his own body, lowering himself to one side of her. “Should I tell you how badly I want to fuck you right now? Should I tell you how incredible your ass looks in these, and how I wantto take them off you and keep them for myself so you never wear them for anyone else? How it made my heart stop when I opened that lift door and saw you hanging there, thinking what would have happened if I’d been just a minute later?”