Patience

by Sydney Lane

  Her eyes glimmer with mischief, as she comes to stand in front of me. This time, I don't touch her. I'm a quick learner.

  Slowly, she begins moving her hips, then faster, until she is moving in rhythm with the music. I lean back, resting on my elbows as I watch her. She closes her eyes, raising her arms above her head, as she continues to swing her hips, only inches from my face. She kicks her leg to the side, spreading her thighs, teasing me with a glimpse of exposed skin. Slowly, she lowers one strap, then the other, before sliding the negligee down her body and stepping out of it.

  When she stands in front of me, in only a sexy black bra and a thong, I feel like the luckiest man in the world. She throws a leg up, her foot coming to rest on the bed, next to my thigh. Rolling her head back, her hair falling over her face, the song ends with her standing over me just like that.

  I stare into her blue eyes, drowning in them, lost to everything around me. The last bit of my resolve shatters. Gone. Destroyed.

  I reach for her, roughly cupping her head in my hand and pull her mouth to mine. Her lips are full, soft, and taste like heaven. I suck her bottom lip, drawing it between my teeth and gently nipping it. She gasps, her breath whispering across my lips, as she trembles against me. I move to her neck, to the softest, sweetest place on her body. Her pulse quickens and becomes erratic beneath my tongue, the rapid beat urging me on. And when I take the lobe of her ear into my mouth, her knees weaken as she sags against me. Her heat instantly warms my leg, driving me wild with the knowledge that she wants me as much as I want her. My lips finds hers again, hungry and sweet. I deepen the kiss, my hands tangled in her hair.

  She wraps her arms around my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin, urging me closer, as if she can't get enough. Abruptly, she pulls away, and looking at me from beneath her eyelashes, says two of the sexiest words I've ever heard.

  "Don't stop."

  I rise and quickly roll her underneath me, my leg parting her thighs. Crawling over her body, my mouth never leaves her skin. The journey continues as I trail kisses to the other side of her neck, leaving no area unloved. She tastes as good as she smells, and it's so damn addictive. I can't get enough.

  I support my weight on one elbow as my other hand finds its way to her thigh, caressing the smooth skin at the edge of her thong. Jenna moans softly in my ear, as she struggles to catch her breath. I pull my mouth from her body and look down into her face. With closed eyes and her breath coming in short gasps, she is the most erotic thing I've ever seen.

  I'm going to make Jenna mine.

  Finally.

  Chapter 27

  Jenna

  For one, agonizing moment, I thought he was going to say no. Then, I was afraid he would say yes. Ok, so I temporarily lost my freakin' mind, but who can blame me? A clothed Eric James is dangerous, but a half-naked Eric James is downright lethal.

  This is gonna hurt.

  I didn't mean to let things get this far. All I wanted to do was give him a taste of his own medicine, but the minute he touched me, all sense of reason was lost. His mouth worked his magic on me while his hands erased all logical thought.

  Taking his hand in mine, I look up into his eyes and whisper something I never thought I'd say. "We can't."

  If I didn't have a plan, I'd punch myself in the mouth.

  The look of shock, then resignation, that passes over his face hits me harder than I imagined it would. So, OK, this is an immature game I'm playing. But I didn't account for just how much I actually wanted this man. His lips, his hands, his... heart.

  All of him.

  He falls backwards, lying beside me, as he fights to gain control of himself. With his eyes closed, he takes several deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Until I find his controlled rhythm calming me as well.

  When I finally open my eyes, he is watching me, a contemplative look on his face. "I don't care about the bet if that's what this is about."

  What!? No. That wasn't part of the plan.

  "It's not." I exhale, pushing the air from my lungs. I roll onto my side, propping my head up with my arm. His eyes never leave my face, unasked questions swimming in the blue depths. "Well, sort of. I don't want you to lose the guitar, and I was just trying to sexually frustrate you, but I was better at this than I thought I was, and things just got out of hand." The words rush out of my mouth, uncensored. I stare at the clock, waiting for his response.

  He rolls onto his side, facing me, and takes my chin in his hand, turning me toward him. "Jenna, I don't give a fuck about the guitar. Look at me." My eyes find his. He's smiling broadly, his lips twitching, as if he's trying not to laugh. "I love you. Don't you know that by now?"

  Oh. My. God.

  Tears pools in my eyes, and I smile, trying to blink them away. "You do?"

  "Of course I do, you silly girl. I'm willing to lose the bet. I'm willing to lose my guitar. The only thing I'm not willing to lose... is you."

  I reach for him, my hand skimming the hard muscles just above his waistband. For a moment, I can only stare into his eyes, lost to everything around us. "I love you, too. Don't you know that by now?" I throw his question back at him.

  He rolls over, lying on top of me, taking my hands in his. He pins them to the bed above my head, trapping me beneath him. "Then don't fight this." There are just some times when a girl, even me, does what she's told.

  This would be one of them.

  I wait, patiently, as he gazes into my eyes, for him to touch me, kiss me, anything to alleviate the fire burning within me. It's then that I realize that he's waiting for something, and it dawns on me that he's asking for my permission.

  With a slight nod, I give myself to him.

  His eyes burn with a desire so real that I can feel it beating in his chest, and then a slow, sensual smile kisses his lips. He lowers his head, his lips once again finding the curve of my neck. With my hands still captive, he kisses lower, his chin nudging the black lace bra aside, as his lips slowly drive me crazy.

  I want to touch him, to tease him and drive him wild, but instead, I'm his hostage. When his lips find my stomach, I gasp, arching my back. "My Jenna. My sunshine," he whispers, his breath ghosting across my skin. I can't concentrate, his words drowned out by the sound of my own soft cries.

  I'm surprised when he releases my wrists, reaching for the clasp of my bra. My breathing hitches as he removes it and tosses it aside. He knows my body, knows exactly what I like. For the first time, I feel as if someone knows me better than I know myself.

  As if his only goal is to please me.

  My hands twist in his hair as my body aches for him. He licks and kisses every inch of me, blazing a trail of pure, agonizingly sweet torture across my stomach, lingering over my hip bone, and down my thigh. On his knees, between my legs, he sits back on his heels, his hands finding the edge of my thong, tugging it down.

  I reach out, my fingers wrapping around his wrist, stopping him. His eyes flash to mine, a question hidden there. "No. Rip them." My voice is gritty from not being used, the words sounding more porn star than sexy diva.

  But the sudden fire in his eyes, the way his hand grips my thigh, pulling me to him, makes it worth it. This time, when he smiles, it's devilish, sexy as hell, and makes me want to rip my own panties off. His fist grips the thong, and it one sharp move, he tosses it aside. I smile. He smiles.

  I think we're on the same page.

  I sit up, reaching for him. His eyes follow my hands as they explore his chest, his abdomen, and below. He watches as I touch him, and I hope this moment is burned into his memory forever.

  As well as he knows my body, I also know his.

  He's sensitive right over his hip bone. With my thumb, I trace lazy circles over that smooth skin, outlining the firm muscles that disappear under his boxers. I rise up, kneeling in front of him, as he kneels in front of me. My hands move around him, dipping into his boxers and smoothly lowering them over his hips. He lifts each knee, allowing me to slide them lower, then kicks the
m off. His fingers twitch at his side as I continue to touch him.

  He moves quickly, one hand gripping my waist, the other cupping my face. He draws me to him, our bodies perfectly aligned, as our mouths meet in a frenzy. Biting my bottom lip, he draws it into his mouth, before releasing it. The slight pain makes me feel alive, and I flatten my palms on his back, my fingernails digging into him. He takes my cue, increasing the pressure of his lips against mine, his tongue exploring my mouth.

  He breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with each breath he takes. "Lay down." I don't know who he is, or where he came from, but I like this bossier version of my boyfriend.

  I don't even hesitate. My eyes find his, and as I lay back, wrapping my legs around him, I don't look away. I remind myself to breathe. I'm so caught up in this moment, that I find myself holding my breath, trying to commit every single detail, every single touch to memory.

  I open my legs for him, and his eyes follow the movement. The way he looks at me makes me feel worshipped, as if he's been waiting for this moment all his life. His hand moves to me, touching me, building the tension, the familiar pressure begging for release.

  I close my eyes, lost to everything but him, his touch.

  When he pulls away, I want to scream in frustration, in desperation. He reaches over me, to the bedside table, retrieving a condom. He kneels, ripping the package and throwing it on the floor. I reach up, taking the condom from him and slowly rolling it on. My hands shake, not from nervousness, but from pure anticipation.

  He watches me touch him, and I find it extremely empowering to take control. Of all the times I've touched him, I always knew he would pull away, knew that we weren't going any further. But tonight, there are no boundaries. Nothing between us.

  He's not going to stop me.

  His eyes travel up my body, finally meeting mine.

  "I love you, Jenna." Unable to hear his words above the pounding of my heart, I read his lips and melt inside.

  Patience?

  It was so worth it.

  Chapter 28

  Eric

  She reaches up, pulling me to her, and I settle between her thighs. When I brush against her, I shiver, feeling the pull her body has over mine. Hell, I'm so lost in this girl, I feel like I'm back in high school, getting laid for the first time.

  Lying here, in the only place I want to be, I can't remember a single sexual experience I've had. It's as if my slate has been wiped clean, and Jenna Ryan is the only thing written on it.

  Nothing. Nothing compares to this.

  I can assure you that I've never been so aware of another girl. Of the way she looks at me, confident instead of shy. A woman who clearly knows what she wants. Of the way she moans when I touch her, her voice husky and sweet. Or of the way her eyes devour me, revealing herself instead of hiding. Knowing she wants me as much as I want her is like some kind of drug, a warmth spreading through me, so powerful I know I'll never be the same.

  "I love you, Eric James. I do. But I really need you to shut up and show me." I almost laugh, a huge smile on my face as I cover her body with mine, still not giving her what she wants. My hands find her again, hot and moist, as she arches into me. I kiss her neck, licking the valley of her throat, as my fingers wreak havoc on her control. Her thighs tighten around me, and I can feel her orgasm building from the inside out. "Eric..." My name, whispered on her lips. Then she gasps and clings to me through her climax. She pants, catching her breath, before opening her eyes. Her eyes are glazed and unfocused as she reaches for me, her hand sliding between us. "Now."

  There's something so refreshing about a girl who knows what she wants.

  She guides me into her, and as I slowly sink into her body, everything slips away. It's as if we are the only two people who exist, now intimately connected, my body a part of her body. I close my eyes, dark spots circling my vision, and get lost in the moment.

  Nothing could have prepared me for this. This total loss of self.

  Her eyes close as she sighs in my ear. She brings her legs up, around my waist, drawing me closer. And when she arches against me, I give in, no longer able to ignore the pull of her body. I move, slowly at first, her body matching my rhythm thrust for thrust. I'm aware of every movement, the clenching of her muscles, the heat of her core.

  My mouth finds hers, swallowing her sighs of pleasure, taking everything she's willing to give. As our tongues tangle together, our bodies fused from head to toe, I feel more connected to her than I ever have. My instinct is to hold on tighter, to push deeper, to own every part of her.

  I shift my weight, my hands firmly gripping her hips as I pull her thighs up and over my arms, pushing them back into her chest. Slow, fast, gentle, hard. Lost.

  She pulls me tighter, her fingernails scratching my back. That little bite of pain pushes me over the edge, and calling out her name, I struggle to control myself. When she bucks against me, her body tightening around me, I let go. Wrenching my mouth from hers, I wrap my hands around her hips, and in several quick thrusts, find release.

  I swear to god, I almost pass out. It's like I'm having some kind of out-of-body experience, as if I'm briefly suspended in the air before finally drifting back down.

  I collapse on top of her, her legs still tightly wrapped around me. Her body is glistening with sweat, so hot, so damn sexy, I can't imagine letting her go.

  Ever.

  "Eric?" She breathes out my name.

  "Hmm?" I can't even speak, much less say anything meaningful.

  "So worth the wait."

  Who knew when I made that stupid bet that making us wait was the best thing that could have ever happened to us? That I would appreciate her so much more, that I would learn things about myself that I didn't even know?

  Well, obviously, Declan knew, but I never saw it coming.

  "So worth my guitar." I'd give up everything I owned for a lifetime of Jenna.

  "Well, about that..."

  Chapter 29

  Jenna

  Here it is. The moment of truth.

  Eric rolls over, pulling me against him and arranging the blanket over us. With my head resting on his chest, I try to hide my smile. I won.

  I freakin' won!

  "What's that?" He's so clueless. One of these days, probably not any day soon, he's going to learn that he should never underestimate a woman. Especially me.

  I try to think of something serious to keep from laughing, but it's a struggle. Steadying my voice, I say, "Baby, you won the bet. Your precious guitar has been spared."

  "What?!" His muscles tense beneath my hand and his hands still on my back. "I lost. It was only fifty-nine days." He sounds so sure of himself. And nothing like I expected. I thought he'd be happy.

  I can't hold it in any longer.

  Leaning up on my elbow so that I can see his face, I lay it all out. "No, sir. It was sixty days. Barely." I pause, letting it sink in. He's confused. "I looked at the clock, and it just so happens that it was 12:01 the minute we, umm, did the deed."

  The look on his face is priceless. First, confusion, then disbelief, and finally... he gets it.

  "Oh, hell no! It was not. I lost this bet fair and square, Sunshine. Don't you go screwing it up now." Now, I'm confused. He gets to keep his guitar, and I'm screwing it up?

  "What are you talking about? You act like you wanted to lose the bet!" Men.

  "I did! I wanted to lose the bet so you would know how I really feel about you. I didn't want you thinking I cared more about my guitar than I do about you." His face is so sincere, so determined. I don't know if I should laugh or cry. But I do know I have to get to the bottom of this.

  "Now, why the hell would you think something like that?" Before he can answer, it clicks. "Oh, Eric, tell me you didn't." He looks away, a smile playing at the corners of his beautiful mouth.

  "Seth." We say it at the same time. And that's all there is to say.

  I am completely blown away. He wanted to lose. For me.

  As the reality
of it sinks in, I roll onto my back, laughing as I hold my stomach. I was working to save his guitar, and he was working to keep me.

  Before I know what happened, he rolls on top of me, our legs tangled together, as he tickles me. "I won! I won!" I yell between gasps for air, pushing him away.

  Suddenly, he gives up, and he gets very still. I'm slightly concerned that I may have accidentally hurt him, when he pulls his hand from under my pillow with a perplexed look on his face. "What the...?" That's when I notice that he's holding something in his hand.

  His fingers unfold, and there in his hand is well, what looks like a... "Chicken wing!" We yell in unison as he chucks it over the side of the bed. For a moment, we are silent, shocked by his discovery.

  And then, I begin laughing, and he begins laughing as we dissolve into a fit of delirium. It is the perfect end to a perfect day. "A fuckin' chicken wing!" He is outraged, and I find it all the more funny. I laugh until large wet tears roll down my face and I struggle to breathe. "Seriously, Jenna, we just had sex in bed with a chicken wing!"

  "Ohmigod! I can't wait to tell Quincy. She's never gonna believe this shit!" I wipe the tears from my face, trying to recover. My sweet, sweet Eric. He tried so hard to make this night special for me. Our hotel was overbooked. We ended up in a shithole, him with a black eye and me wishing I had cotton stuffed up my nose. He finally got over the odor only to find that damn bone under the pillow.

  Would he ever believe me if I told him that what makes it so special is that it's so memorable? Of course not.

  He looks so depressed. I reach up, my fingers lightly grazing his jawline. His face is rough with light stubble from not shaving. Perfect. The whole night was perfectly perfect.

  Sometimes, love is a beautiful mess. It isn't perfect or scripted. It isn't always smooth and easy, and not everyone gets the fairytale ending. Sometimes, love is a kind of quiet chaos, the perfect calm in the eye of a storm. And always, it is what you hold onto at the end of the day.