Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
“I think I understand.”
I’ve seen how dejected he gets watching his favorite teams lose a rugby match on TV. How he spends half the game pacing the kitchen because he wants to know what’s happening but can’t bear to witness it. Too invested in the outcome. It makes him anxious.
“We’re all afraid of getting hurt,” I add. “Of not being good enough. If this stuff were easy, there wouldn’t be reality dating shows, right?”
“True,” he says, rolling over to face me.
This kind of vulnerability from Jack does a lot to break down the wall of hostility that’s built up between us. It’s hard to hold a grudge when he’s enduring such obvious discomfort to let me understand him better. A little effort goes a long way with me. I don’t expect perfection, just honesty. In fact, far above abs, good hair, and nice eyes, it’s the most attractive quality in a guy. Someone who knows who he is and is honest with himself and me. It’s something I could work on too, if I’m being fair.
“I’m jealous, all right?” Jack suddenly says, his features straining. He sounds tortured. “The idea of him touching you…fucking you… it’s making me bloody mental.”
My pulse takes off. “Oh.”
“I meant what I said when I took you driving—I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” He curses under his breath. “But I also can’t keep pretending I’m all right with just friendship. That I don’t want more.”
I suck in a breath. “Do you? Want more?”
After a long moment, he nods.
“Oh. Okay. Wow.”
I never thought I’d ever hear these words from Jack. He’s been so skilled at keeping me at an emotional distance that now that he’s baring his soul to me, my brain can’t quite comprehend it.
“So where does that leave us?” he asks.
I see only the vague outline of his face, though I feel the warmth of his body beside mine. The instinct to be closer to him, to touch him, tugs at me.
“Well, I don’t think we’re fighting anymore,” I say.
“Should I let you go back to sleep?” His voice is husky.
My heart beats even faster. “I’ll never be able to fall asleep now.”
“Should I stay then?”
The darkness makes me bold. I reach out for him, lightly stroking the stubble along his jaw. “Yes. If you want to.”
“I want to.”
There’s a moment of silent deliberation between us. So loud it makes my ears ring. I want him to kiss me. I would take the lead, but I’m afraid he’ll push me away again.
Then Jack lifts the side of the duvet and slides beneath it. He takes hold of my waist and pulls me closer.
“We’ll get this right eventually,” he says gruffly.
I’m not sure which part he’s referring to until his hand slides down to cup the back of my knee and hitch my leg over his hip. He threads his fingers through my hair, bringing my face closer. His nose grazes mine. Then his forehead. Searching for each other in the shadows, until finally our lips touch. The gentle warmth seeps through my limbs and burns in my blood, his tongue coaxing me to forget any lingering apprehensions.
Consequences are for daylight.
The kiss is gentle at first. Tentative. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. I grab the back of his neck, softly dragging my nails over him. Jack skims his hand up my thigh and palms my ass, pressing me against him. I feel his erection between my legs. The sensation spurs a rush of unchecked desire, urging me to grind against him, which elicits a muffled groan that tickles my lips. His fingers bite into my flesh.
“Want you so damn bad,” he whispers before burying his face in my neck, kissing my heated flesh. His lips leave flames of need in their wake. I’m on fire.
“Touch me,” I whisper back, hearing the pleading note in my voice. I’m desperate to feel more of him, to ease this ache that’s stalked me for months.
Jack slips a hand under my T-shirt to squeeze my breast and run his thumb over my nipple. My teeth scrape his bottom lip as we kiss again. His hands are big and rough and make me feel delicate, almost breakable, under their exploration. His muscles tug and tighten as I trace their lines, wanting to know more of him.
He pushes my shirt up, and I sit so he can pull it over my head. Instantly, he fills both palms with my breasts and hums in approval.
“They’re perfect,” he says solemnly. “Even the much bigger one.”
A laugh chokes out. “Asshole.”
With a laugh, he squeezes gently, his thumbs sweeping over my nipples. “You’ve nothing to worry about. Your tits are bloody mind-blowing. Perfection.”
Then he lowers his mouth to one breast and sucks the peaked tip, eliciting a jolt of pleasure that sizzles from my nipple to my clit. God, he’s good at that. His palm travels my stomach, my ribs, setting every nerve humming, until he slides his fingers between my thighs.