Jake's voice interrupted my thoughts. "What is it?"
I looked up. "I dunno. I guess I'm feeling overwhelmed." I gave him a pleading look. "It's been such a crappy day, and then that guy…" I let the words trail off, fearful of igniting yet another argument.
His voice sharpened. "Which guy?"
"You know, Moe, sending you that stupid text. I mean, if he hadn't said anything, you wouldn’t be all mad at me now." I gave him a weak smile. "I would've come home just fine, and everything would've normal."
"So you think the text was the problem?"
"No. Not really. But I'm just saying, if he hadn't contacted you, everything would've been okay."
His eyebrows lifted. "Is that so?"
"Isn't it?"
"That picture," he said, "you get a good look at it?"
Once again, I felt my cheeks grow warm. "I know how I looked. But in my defense, I didn't know my shirt would get all see-through at the first drop of rain."
About the weather, this was a slight exaggeration. It hadn't been a few drops. It had been a raging downpour. But hey, I was trying to make a point.
Unfortunately, the point looked totally lost on Jake. Again, his gaze dipped to the hoodie, and then lower still.
I watched, feeling my blush deepen, as he eyed the ragged edges of my skimpy shorts and then, my bare thighs. His gaze kept on going and didn't stop until he reached the pink laces of my white tennis shoes.
Well, at least those were decent.
I lifted my chin. "But hey, it could happen to anyone, right?"
"But you're not anyone." He looked up, meeting my gaze. "You're mine."
Chapter 22
Jake's words hung in the cool, quiet air. You're mine.
The words were simple. And true.
Still, something about the way he said it made my breath catch and my knees go wobbly. I tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words.
"And," Jake continued, "you were on Moe's street." Slowly, he reached out and gripped the zipper of my borrowed hoodie. He nudged it down barely an inch, and I felt the cool air tickle my throat.
Suddenly distracted, I felt myself swallow. "You mean like where he lives?"
Jake's fingers were still on the zipper. "Guess again."
I didn't want to guess again. I wanted Jake to give that zipper another tug.
I don't know why or what I expected. From the look on his face, our argument wasn't quite over. And, as for myself, I was cold and damp and overly conscious of what I was wearing.
True, Jake had seen me in a lot fewer clothes, but as far as this particular outfit? It was obviously an issue, even now.
In front of me, Jake stood very still, waiting, apparently, for me to answer.
I tried to think. There was a question. What was it? Oh, that's right. It was about Moe. If Moe didn't live on that street, how could it be considered his?
I tried to find the words. "Is it, uh, where he does business?"
Jake gave the zipper another tug. "You might say that."
My shorts were still cold, but the parts they covered were growing warmer with every tug of that zipper.
I glanced around, suddenly curious whether or not the elevator had security cameras. I didn't see any, but that didn't mean they weren't there.
Jake had lived in this building a lot longer than I had. Would he know the answer?
Probably, he would. I was tempted to ask, but was far too embarrassed. Supposedly, we were still fighting, and if I asked about cameras now, Jake would know exactly what I'd been thinking.
I returned my gaze to his and felt a new flush rise to my cheeks. From the look in his eyes, he already knew.
The cocky bastard.
Mortified, I tried to change the subject. "So, uh, that's his territory or something?"
Jake gave a slow nod. "And in case you didn't notice, it's not a nice place."
His hand was still there, poised on that same zipper. Distracted as hell, I murmured, "It isn't?"
Jake gave another slow nod, followed by another yank. "It's not nice. Or safe." His dark gaze bored into mine. "Especially for someone as sweet as you."
My lips suddenly felt very dry. I wanted to lick them, but I made myself stop. Somehow, I managed to say, "I'm not that sweet."
"Yeah?" He gave the zipper another yank, this one longer and harder. The hoodie fell open down to my navel, exposing a long, narrow gap where the hoodie's dark cotton no longer met. Within that gap was the thin fabric of my soaked, white blouse.
The gap was so narrow that nothing much was exposed, just a long, thin swath of fabric, straight down the center of my chest. Even so, I was starting to feel just a little bit naked.
And heaven help me, I liked it.
Jake's fingers still gripped the zipper. "Later, I want you to look at that picture again."
I didn't care about the picture, not now. The real-life image in front of me was far too compelling. It was the sight of Jake, standing there, close enough to touch.
And I did want to touch him.
His hair was dark, and his eyes were darker. His loose, gray T-shirt clung to his broad chest and bulging biceps in a way that defied description.
My gaze dipped lower, skimming his abs. Wordlessly, I drank in the sight of his stomach-muscles, flat and tight, outlined just above the waistband of his faded jeans.
Again, I swallowed, feeling a new kind of wetness, hot and slick, dampen my rain-soaked panties.
I wanted him. I was ready for him, too. And unless I was mistaken, the feeling was mutual.
Looking for confirmation, my gaze drifted lower. And there it was, that delicious bulge, straining against the thick denim fabric. I reached out, wondering if two could play at the zipper game.
But Jake's voice, laced with steel, made me stop in mid-motion. "Promise me."
Startled, I let my hand drop. "What?"
"The picture," he said. "Promise me you'll look. And I mean a good, long look."
I didn't get it. What was he trying to do? Make me even more ashamed of what had happened? As if I didn't already feel stupid enough?
This wasn't like him, and I had the distinct feeling that I was missing something.
Struggling to think, I said, "Why? I already saw it. And I'm sorry, okay?"
"Not as sorry as you could've been."
"What does that mean?"
His expression darkened. "It means, I want you to know what kind of bullet you dodged, so you don't do that again."
I made a sound of frustration. "I wasn't planning on doing it again. And there were no bullets."
"Uh-huh." His hand was still poised on the zipper. I glanced down, chagrined by the fact that even now, after his maddening interruption, I still wanted him.
And I didn't want to wait.
I recalled his warning that he didn't know who exactly might be at his penthouse. But what about his office? Maybe that was empty.
It was after business hours, right?
I paused. Who was I kidding? Even if Trey wasn't there, Vince and Bianca would be arriving there soon.
And besides, Jake wasn't going to let everything go so easily. Even now, that much was obvious.
Considering where we were, maybe that was for the best – or at least, that's what I tried to tell myself.
Determined not to make a further fool of myself, I forced a casual shrug. "Okay. Fine."
"Okay what?"
In a monotone, I said, "I promise I'll look at the picture. There. Are you happy now?" I glanced toward the elevator's control panel. "So, can we go?"
The corners of his mouth lifted the barest fraction. "No."
I sighed in frustration. "Why not?"
His gaze dipped to my lips, and when he spoke, his voice became softer, almost a caress. "Is that what you want? To go?"
At something in his look, my pulse quickened. "Uh, yes?"
He flashed me a sudden grin. "Was that a question? Or a statement?"
That grin, sexy as anything, ma
de my stomach flutter and my breath hitch. When I answered, my voice came out nearly too breathless to be heard. "I don't know."
"If you wanna go," he said, flicking his head toward the nearby control panel, "go ahead. Hit the button."
I glanced toward the panel. I wasn't following. Why wouldn't he just hit it? I looked up, meeting his gaze. Almost embarrassed, I asked, "What if I don't?"
At this, he gave the zipper one final yank. The hoodie fell open, and slowly, he lowered his head until his lips tickled my right ear. In a rough whisper, he said, "Then I'll fuck you right here, and show you how 'mine' you are."
I sucked in a breath. Oh, my God. Crude or not, that was sounding really, really good.
Nervously, I glanced around. "But, uh, aren't there cameras in here?"
Jake's mouth slid to my neck. "Yeah."
I pulled back. "What?"
"In the back corner."
"You're kidding." I looked, but didn't see anything. Still, I moved to tug the hoodie shut.
Jake's hand stopped me. "Don't."
I paused. "Don't?"
"Don't worry. No one will see."
"You can't guarantee that."
"That's what you think." He reached out with a warm hand and stroked the underside of my breast. Through the thin, damp fabric – of my blouse and of my bra – I could feel the heat of his touch, and I whimpered with need.
Somehow, I managed to say, "Seriously Jake."
His hand crept higher. "Who says I'm not serious?"
"But what about the camera?"
"You think I'd share you with anyone?" His fingers found a nipple, and he gave it a tender squeeze. "You think I'd share even the sight of you?"
His fingers squeezed again, rolling the nub gently, persistently, until a soft moan escaped my lips. Breathlessly, I asked, "How can you be sure?"
Slowly, he pulled his hand away, leaving the nipple, cold and wanting, in the cool elevator air. "I'm sure. But if you wanna go…" He glanced toward the control panel. "There's the button."
I gave the button a good, long look. And then, slowly, I reached out, but not toward the control panel, toward Jake.
My eager fingers found the bulge in his jeans, and I ran a soft hand over his swollen hardness, straining, harder now, against the rough denim.
In almost a whisper, I admitted, "I don't wanna go."
A slow smile spread across his lips. "Good."
Deliberately, he reached out with both hands and nudged aside my borrowed hoodie, letting the fabric fall loosely off my shoulders. His gaze dipped to my soaked blouse and everything underneath it. "The next time you wear that," he said, "it had better be for me." His voice grew lower, rougher. "And only me."
Wordlessly, I nodded. I didn't want anyone else to see me like this. Not now. Not ever.
His fingers moved to the neckline of my blouse. He gripped the fabric in both hands, and then, with one quick motion, he ripped it open, sending buttons scattering to the elevator floor.
I gave a quick, excited gasp. I loved this, and he damn well knew it.
Deliberately, his hands moved to my lacy bra. His fingers traced the upper outline of the delicate fabric, and then, he shoved aside the tops of the cups, exposing my damp nipples to the cool, elevator air.
He looked down and smiled like he was loving what he saw.
Unable to resist, I looked, too. The filmy lace material was cupped under my breasts, raising them higher, as if they were begging for Jake's attention, which, in a way, they were.
My skin was damp, and my nipples were so erect, they practically ached.
When he reached up to palm my breasts in his large, warm hands, I gave a soft moan and let my eyelids flutter shut. His fingers tightened, squeezing my nipples between them as he lifted my breasts with both hands.
It felt so wonderful and yet, considering our surroundings, so terribly obscene. Probably, I'd be embarrassed tomorrow, but for now, all I could think was more – more of this, more of him.
Unable to stop myself, I moaned his name, "Jake."
He silenced me with a kiss, hard and possessive. His tongue found mine, and I sagged against him, molding my body against his. My heart was racing, and I was so wet, I could feel it, dampening my already soaked panties.
Jake's lips slid from mine, and he trailed his mouth slowly to my ear. In a low, husky voice, he asked, "How do you want it? Slow and easy?" His teeth grazed my earlobe. "Or fast and hard?"
There was nothing easy about the way I felt now. Breathlessly, I said, "Fast. Like, now fast."
With a low, chuckle, he said, "That's my girl."
Yes, I was his girl. I liked being his girl. Desperate to prove it, I reached between us and gripped the waistband of his jeans. With fumbling hands, I unfastened the button and then went for the zipper.
As for Jake, he was working on my zipper too, and doing a lot better job than I was.
Before I knew it, my Daisy Dukes were lying somewhere in the corner of the elevator, and his jeans, along with his briefs, were somewhere around his ankles.
I still had on my panties, but that wasn't stopping anything. With one smooth motion, Jake cupped his warm, strong hands around my wet, cold ass and lifted me up against the elevator wall.
Almost panting now, I gripped his length with one hand, and guided him toward my opening, even as I shoved aside the crotch of my panties to give him quick and easy access.
He surged forward, taking me hard and fast, just the way I'd wanted. My lips parted, and I said his name, over and over while he drove into me, harder and faster until I thought I'd die of pure bliss.
And if I did die? Well, this was totally the way to go.
Surging forward yet again, Jake lowered his head and whispered in my ear. "Don't forget."
I could hardly think. Almost beside myself, I breathed, "Forget what?"
"That you're mine." As he said it, he pulled back, and surged forward once more, claiming me with his body as much as his words.
"Yes," I breathed into his shoulder. And then, my breathing became too ragged to speak. I was falling into that sweet oblivion, where nothing else seemed to matter, nothing except for the feel of Jake's body, hard and strong, holding me tight, and taking me straight to heaven, right here on Earth.
And then, I was there, moaning my release into his hard shoulder, even as he drove harder, and came to his own climax, with his hands still cupping my ass, squeezing it as he murmured my name.
When it was all over, I lowered my head, resting it on his strong shoulder. "Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"You'd better."
In spite of everything, I heard myself laugh. "You're supposed to say you love me, too."
"Baby, I do love you. More than life itself."
Like a sponge, I soaked up those words, wanting to drink them up and keep them forever.
And then, there was ringing. Not in my ears, and not from the elevator.
It was a phone. And not mine either. I murmured, "I think that's your phone."
"Screw the phone," he said. "It can wait. What about you?"
"Me?" I gave a happy sigh. "I feel better than I have all day."
He pulled away and leaned his forehead against mine. "Remember your promise, because I'm gonna hold you to it."
I knew which promise he meant, the promise to look at that picture. But right now, I had happier things to consider.
Jake was mine. I was his. And, soon, we'd put all of this drama behind us – or at least, that's what I thought, right until we reached the top floor, and found our next unwelcome surprise.
Chapter 23
When the elevator doors slid open, I stifled a gasp. There they were – Vince and Bianca, standing just outside the ornate double doors that led to Jake's penthouse. Unfortunately, they weren't facing those doors. They were facing the elevator, with us inside.
Desperately, I grabbed the bottom of the oversized hoodie and gave it a ferocious tug downward. It did almost
no good. The hoodie was big, but not big enough to hide the fact that I was mostly naked underneath it.
Even now, I could feel the cool air wafting across the lower part of my partially exposed ass-cheeks. As for the cheeks on my face, they were burning with raw embarrassment.
I was half-naked and reeked of sex. Like an idiot, I hadn't even put back on my shorts. Instead, I'd wadded them up into a soggy ball and tucked them under my arm, thinking I'd simply make a mad-dash from the elevator to the privacy of Jake's penthouse.
At the time, it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable plan, especially when I learned that Jake knew a special elevator code that would deliver us, non-stop, to the privacy of the top floor.
In hindsight, the plan had been totally stupid, especially considering his comment earlier, about not knowing who might be coming over.
Sex with Jake – it turned my brain to mush. Sure, it was a happy mush, but it wasn't with a downside.
Of all the people on Earth, why did I have to be facing Vince and Bianca? Weren't they supposed to be in the lobby? Or in his office or something?
Already, Jake had moved in front of me, blocking me from their view. He told Bianca, "I said to meet me in the office."
I couldn’t see Bianca anymore, but I could hear her, loud and clear, as she said in a distinctly annoyed voice, "I know you did. But you weren't there."
There was only one elevator that led to the top two floors. And, as I knew from blissful experience, that elevator had been occupied. So how did they get up here?
I peered around Jake and called out, "What'd you do? Take the stairs?"
"It's none of your concern!" Bianca called back. "I was talking to Jake."
I knew Bianca. When it came to Jake, she wanted to do a lot more than talk. She had it bad, as in crazy-stalker bad. If she were a nicer person, I might've felt sorry for her. But she wasn't nice, and any sympathy from me would be a total waste.
My gaze shifted to Vince. He was looking amused more than anything. With a nod in my direction, he said, "If you wanna return that to me, now's a good time."
I blinked. Return what? And then it hit me. Oh, my God. The hoodie. It was his. And if I gave it back now, I might as well be buck-naked. How humiliating was that?
But it was Jake who answered on my behalf. "If you're talking about that hoodie, forget it."
Jake Forever (Jaked Book 3) Page 11