by Clare James
It was such a powerful picture that I couldn’t allow myself to stay there for more than a minute or two. It was a dangerous game.
My phone vibrated and I practically jumped out of my skin.
Settle down, it’s only a text message.
And it wasn’t even Michael.
It was Tris, and another Top Ten list. I was happy for the distraction. I clicked on the image and enlarged it so I could read the small print.
“Oh wow,” I screamed, startling the dogs. “Wow, wow, wow.”
Then I started typing.
Me: Can you talk?
The list he just sent over definitely warranted a live, old-fashioned phone call. He wouldn’t send me a list with the Top Ten Boy Names unless he was in need of a boy name, unless Aria was pregnant.
Tris: Sorry, in a meeting.
Me: That’s mean. Dropping a bomb when you can’t take a phone call!
Tris: We just found out this morning and I couldn’t wait to tell you!
Me: Forgiven.
Tris: Can you believe it?
Me: I actually can. So happy for you guys!
Tris: It means a lot, J.
He’d come such a long way since Aria came back into his life. Once upon a time, I think he was more cynical than I was. Now look at him?
Me: How did you know you were ready?
Tris: I didn’t know it. I felt it.
That’s what he always said, when I asked about his business ventures, or Aria, or anything important. He always left it up to the heart.
That absolutely terrified me.
15
Michael
Fuck, this is important. I kept chanting to myself later that night. I had to repeat the phrase over and over again so I wouldn’t get distracted by Jen.
This was the one of the best ways I could protect her and keep her safe. There was something truly empowering about learning self-defense tactics. Teaching them too. I always felt that it helped me make up for the times that I wasn’t there to help people who needed me. It was redemption, in a way.
Fuck, this is important.
I needed to do this for Jenna, it wasn’t about me and my selfish needs.
Focus, idiot.
She made her way down to the empty gym, right on time. A few other guys from the station came to use the equipment on occasion in the morning, but for the most part, it was a vacant space that I had all to myself.
I pulled a few mats to the ground and set up a punching bag in the corner. But we’d start easy with a few simple moves that could be lifesaving.
When Jenna arrived she was exhausted. It’d been a long day for both of us. And though she may have been a little out of sorts after the day’s events, she still looked absolutely edible to me. Her hair was pulled back in her signature weekend ponytail, and she wore a pair of tight black running pants—that were snug in all the right places—with a tank top that covered her sports bra, but was still unable to conceal her curves.
To say she made it difficult to concentrate was the understatement of all understatements. And as I put her into position, the rise and fall of her chest made my cock ache. This was a very bad idea.
Jen offered no clues about how she felt about what happened last night. Had I misread what was going on between us? Part of me really hated how she turned me into such a questioning, unconfident fool, the other part loved the challenge.
Still, I didn't like the questions. I didn't like the inconsistencies or wondering. I needed to know where we stood. Then, once we knew, we could have a plan, we could set up rules. I needed my fucking rules.
We started our session with the basics, like be alert and aware, go out in pairs, know your surroundings and all those things that she’s probably been hearing for years.
“Above all,” I added. “Avoid distractions, because this is what attackers bank on. Distractions can lead to death. So don’t get me started on texting or talking on the phone when you’re out walking alone at any time of the day.”
The smartass gave me a salute.
We covered vulnerable entry points on a person: the nose, the space above the lip, the groin, solar plexus, vagus nerve, knees, and ears. Then we moved onto techniques for getting out of holds. I showed her how, instead of yanking your arm away when someone grabs you, it was best to rotate the wrist and bend your elbow to pull free.
“And this is where most women get it wrong,” I told her as I took one step closer. “They pull away instead of leaning in.”
As I clipped my arms around her, I showed her how to use her body weight to get me off of her. But damn, it was hard to concentrate. I was too close, she was too close. Her fiery fragrance overpowered the sweaty stench of the room. All I could smell was her, a scent that told me exactly who Jenna was, both sweet and spicy. A battle always going on under the surface. And as I pondered all this shit, that’s when she did as I asked, and used her weight, almost knocking me on my ass.
So much for my focus. I was failing miserably.
“Looks like I almost got you,” Jenna grinned.
“I was distracted there for a second.”
"And distraction can lead to death." Apparently she was paying attention to my earlier lecture. Okay, bonus points for the student.
“I know.”
Right, I was so done with today’s instruction. I was done with a lot of things. The time for thinking was over.
We took a water break and all the pent up tension I’d let build over the past week began to peak. But what would I do about it? I ran through a litany of scenarios, each one dirtier than the last.
Jenna swayed, shifting her weight from foot-to-foot. It seemed like she could sense the change in the room as much as I could—even though I was the one who was changing it for the most part. I took a step forward and another, it was now or never. Time to take the next step.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
Oh, we were back to this game.
“I think you know,” I replied, just as I did that night in her apartment.
She glanced down and the mat and shivered, and it was almost my undoing.
“Tell me you want this,” I said, unwilling to play any games at this point. I wanted her, she wanted me, and everything else could wait. “I can feel that you do. But you have to let me know one way or the other, because I’m losing my shit over here.”
Jenna
He had no idea how much how much I wanted him. But that was the problem. If I let him in the rest of the way, I wasn’t sure I could walk away in one piece.
Still. I wanted to give him…everything. He’d become my protector, my sparring partner, my friend, and now was on the verge of so much more.
He was one of the good guys who gave at the expense of himself. I was the complete opposite. He walked me backwards until my back hit the padded wall. “Tell me, Jenna,” he pushed, “tell me you want this.”
His arms caged me in, but I used one of the moves he taught me. I pushed my weight against him, so I flipped us, his back was against the wall now. Let’s see if he could take the heat for a change.
“It’s not about what I want,” I said breathing in his crisp, clean scent that clouded my head and made it difficult to think straight.
His fingers stroked my cheek, his gaze following its path. It was such a simple gesture, but so tender. It’d been so long since I thought I deserved this, someone to treat me this way, someone to know me again. His fingers continued down over my shoulders, down my arms until he linked hands with mine—first my right and his left, and then his left in my right. Opposite, but the same.
He didn’t say anything as he lowered us both onto the mat. I was scared, but also sure at the same time. For some reason that I can’t explain, I trusted this man. For other obvious reasons, I was so hot for him I could hardly breathe.
Heat swam in his eyes as they bore into mine, asking so many questions. Most importantly, was this okay?
I nuzzled my nose along his cheek in m
y answer and pressed my lips on the underside of his jaw before lining his neck with scorching hot kisses. He looked at me so tenderly then, like he was battling whether or not to go slow and soft, or fast and hard. I would've taken it either way. But I wanted to give this time after everything he given to me yesterday.
I toyed with the bottom of his shirt, lifting it lightly. He pulled up to his knees, and reached behind his neck to pull it off for me. And sweet baby Jesus, he was a feast for the eyes.
This was the first time I'd seen him with his shirt off, and let me tell you it was worth the wait. His skin was all golden and shiny from the work out. Smooth, taut, gorgeous skin pulled across all of his ridges of muscles. He wasn't bulky at all, but looked like he could seriously mess someone up if he had to.
“My turn,” he said with a wicked grin. He started with my T-shirt, sliding it up and pulling it off so excruciatingly slow I wanted to scream just let me do it. But there was a reason he was doing it this way. With Michael, there was always a reason.
Next, he went for my running pants. His fingertips slid under the waistband and my breath caught in my throat, just like it did last night. Once again, he took his time, pulling them off, inch by inch, baring me to him.
I'm not going to lie, I’d worn my best underwear under this get up, totally not appropriate for self-defense activity, but perfect for this one. It probably made me look desperate, like I was hoping this would happen, but what can I say? I was.
He didn't seem to mind as he took in my lacy panties, and a low hiss escaped his lips. He looked up at me with a raised brow.
“You like?" I smiled at him. Please say yes, please say yes.
“More than like, I fucking love them.”
Well then, he was going to be very happy with the other half of the ensemble. What looked like a sports bra underneath my tank was nothing of the sort.
The groan that slipped from his mouth next told me he'd gotten to the piece of lingerie in the form of a racerback bra. And once he freed me of my tank top, there was little left to the imagination. The bra was the same color ivory as my skin, and the cups were made out of the thinnest lace known to man.
“Are you trying to kill me, girl?”
“No,” I told him honestly. “I'm just trying to make you happy.”
“Mission accomplished.”
He leaned over me, bracing his weight on his arms. I'd let him get away with that for now, but at some point I wanted to feel all that weight on top of me, pushing me into the mat.
He kissed me then, hard, deep, and full of so much emotion and need that tears pricked my eyes. He moved to my neck and nibbled down, mimicking the motions that I had done to him a little earlier. But once he got to my chest, he made a dead stop.
My chest heaved, my nipples pebbled under all the lace.
“Holy shit,” he said like he was in pain. “You look so incredible.”
I arched my back, giving him more access. The way his throat bobbed with each swallow told me it was the right move. He watched me so closely, gauging my response as he peppered my chest with kisses.
He then traced the lace of my bra with his fingertips, starting at the straps going down to the underside of the cups, before coasting over the edge of lace at the top. I could feel his restraint, his power.
He flicked the front clasp of the bra and pulled it open so I was completely bare to him and under his perusal. If it was even possible, my nipples tightened further. And it took him only a second before his lips were there to ease the throbbing and provide some relief. He pulled one tight peak into his mouth, toying with it with his tongue before releasing it with a loud pop. He gave the same treatment to my other breast.
“Please, Michael,” I said to him. I wanted to enjoy this, savor it. But I wanted my release more. I wanted him to have his release more. He understood and made quick work removing the rest of our clothes.
He sheathed himself with a condom and stilled, bracing his arms around my face. It was a protective movement, careful, like I was his prized possession. I knew he was waiting for me to look at him. I had to steady myself before I did. And when I complied, he positioned himself at my entrance.
We were really going to do this.
A little push and he was in a fraction of the way, and it felt so good, but so not enough. I groaned in frustration and a soft laugh fell from his mouth.
He laced his fingers with mine and slid our arms up and over my head, his thumbs putting the perfect amount of pressure on my wrists.
It was, in a word, sublime.
He pushed in a little more, and I took what he offered. The old Jenna in me came out to play, wanting, wanting, wanting. Whimpering sounds bounced of the walls, and I didn’t realize for a few minutes that the noise was coming from me. I was greedy and this wasn’t enough.
Not by a long shot.
Michael was so controlled, so disciplined it made me want to unravel him all the more. I contracted my inner muscles, trying for relief or friction, something other than this torture. I was quickly rewarded with a quick flex of Michael’s hips, accompanied by a strangled groan.
And the slow and controlled portion of tonight's festivities were coming to a close. Yes, things were moving toward fast and rough. And the next moment he plunged inside with so much force, I cried out his name.
Then he pulled out slowly and did it again. Damn, Michael knew what he was doing. He rolled his hips and found his rhythm. I gasped for breath as my race to the finish began. It was the perfect pace, the endorphins were flowing, and I could see the finish line. I planned to just coast my way in.
But then his hands untangled from mine and slid down the side of my body, tweaking my nipples as he descended, moving back underneath me and latching onto the back of my thighs. Michael lifted me and changed the angle just slightly, bringing us closer together, and when he thrust again it almost knocked the wind out of me.
I wasn’t going to be coasting to the finish line after all. Instead, I’d be coming in top speed.
Michael
I captured every sigh, every groan, and every sound of pleasure that came from her mouth. Damn, she was so beautiful. I knew one time wouldn't be enough, I knew that before we started. Who was I kidding?
I teetered on the edge of bliss, with such little control, I was at risk of shattering any second. Pressure coiled inside, but I needed to take care of Jenna first.
I didn’t want to lose the angle so I used one arm to wrap around the back of her thighs, the other hand skated up between us so I could apply pressure where she needed it the most. In the next second, I found her clit and pushed. Jenna practically bucked us off the mat.
“You can let go, Jenna. I've got you.” My words pushed her over the edge and her muscles contracted all around my cock.
I fought for control, waiting for her to ride out her release. And once she began to fall, I pumped into her more forcefully, until my name ripped from her throat. I didn’t let up until my own rush of pleasure pulled me under.
“It’s so good, Jen,” I said as I came. It was so good with her, so different than anyone else I’d been with. We were completely in sync and fit together perfectly, and we clung to each other as we rode out that first wave.
Once we recovered, we did it all over again.
After a minute or an hour or year, I rolled onto my back, taking her with me and tucking her into the crook of my arm.
She was so soft, so goddamn beautiful—inside and out. I could stay here, wrapped up in Jen, forever. I was sure of it, and if I did, I’d die a very happy man.
Yup, there was no doubt about it. I was fucked. This girl had completely wrecked me.
16
Jenna
I was completely and utterly wrecked—from the inside out. Michael wrapped me up in his arms, and I settled into a big, strong, man cradle. I really wanted him to sing to me, but I couldn’t ask. That would be weird.
His lips pressed right to my forehead, his hand interlinked with mine. The word su
rreal came to mind. We stayed there like that, in a puddle of exhaustion, for a long time. Probably too long. I don’t think either of us could believe what happened, despite all the moments that led us here, and I think we worried about what would happen next now that we were really in this precarious position.
“Thank you,” he whispered, not moving his lips from my skin, and I felt the words as much as I heard him. I brought our linked hands to my mouth and kissed the tips of his fingers.
I know I should’ve been concerned about all the problems waiting for us, like his sister, my messed up past, our living situation, graduation, and the fact that I was absolutely convinced I would not survive this relationship—but I just couldn’t bring myself to think about anything negative.
Being with Michael was just too good. Strange, because sex with someone new was supposed to be awkward and clumsy. It was supposed to be about finding what each other liked, and didn’t. Not so with us. It wasn’t awkward, and we did seem to discover what the other liked without even asking. A few times, thanks to the man’s stamina—bless you, police academy.
I felt reborn, all traces of the old Jenna—that insecure girl with a hole in her heart—had turned to ash. The double orgasm killed her.
“Do you want to see where I work?” he asked, suddenly.
I tipped my face up to his and watched as his expression turn a little shy. I sensed instantly that this was a big deal. He was inviting me into his life, and that right there, was even more intimate than what just happened in an old basement gym.
“I’d love to,” I told him. But as we put ourselves back together, he seemed to see the old basement gym in a different light. The grimace gave him away.
“I’m sorry, it was here, Jen.” There was a trace of regret in his eyes, but I wasn’t having it. “I wanted more for our first time—”