by Amanda Heger
Smart.
Funny.
Amazing.
When I finally manage to speak, my voice comes out lower and coarser than before. She does this to me. “I want you, Eliza, naked and spread out in my bed. On my couch. On my kitchen counter.”
She steps close again, invading my space in the best way. This—those coy eyes and parted lips and shallow breaths—this is the expression I’d hoped for. “Prove it.”
And I will. A hundred times over. For as long as she’ll let me.
Chapter 16
“When it comes to sex, the most important six inches are the ones between the ears.”
—Ruth Westheimer, Aphroditian
Jake dipped his head and gave her a full, deep kiss. Eliza wasn’t sure where his mouth stopped or hers started, whether gravity had ceased to exist, or if the moan that escaped her lips was a sign of relief or desperation. But she did know one thing: with that kiss, Jake had proven it and then some.
She pulled back and looked at him looking at her…and forgot how to breathe. It was if every moment of the last few weeks—no, every moment of their entire lives—had been leading to that look. There were weeks of wanting, years of friendship, and decades of history in that look. And it made her feel more vulnerable than she’d ever been.
“Jake?” she whispered, settling back against the couch cushions. “You’re staring.”
“Because I want to remember every second of this. The way your chest hitches when I touch you.” He slid both hands under her shirt, grasping her hips, fingers tracing the skin of her back. “How you moan a little every time we kiss.” He pulled her bottom lip between his. “How you feel when I touch you.” His left hand slipped higher, caressing the curve of her breast.
At his touch, all that vulnerability disintegrated. All she could think about—all she could feel—was Jake, and she needed more. So much more. She kissed him harder, lost in the overwhelming sensations of his hands on her. Of the weight of his body beside her. Of the way he made her feel, inside and out.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” She nipped at his neck, reveling in the goose bumps that appeared on his skin.
“When you’re around, nothing else matters.” His thumb grazed the bow of her lips. “It’s like you become the only star in the sky, and all I can think about is worshipping you.”
Eliza grinned. Her entire body filled with a light so bright it could have been liquid starlight. But deep down, she knew it was so much more than that. This was what it was like to be accepted and accepting. Supported and supportive. Wanted and wanting.
This was what it was like to be in L—
“Touch me,” she whispered. “Please.”
Thank the gods she didn’t have to ask him twice.
He slid a hand between her thighs. “Like this?”
Eliza burned brighter and hotter. The rough fabric of her jeans was somehow both a blessing and a curse, and she could only manage a moan in response.
“Or like this?” Jake thumbed the button of her jeans and ran his fingers across the fabric of her underwear. His featherlight touch felt so amazing, Eliza feared she may climb out of her skin with want.
“Like this.” She leaned back, took his hand, and guided it to her center. She wanted nothing between them. Not clothes or secrets or enchantments. She wanted all of him, and in turn, she was giving him full access to every part of her.
She could only pray he would take it.
He did. Readily and easily, his finger slid against her slick skin, finding her most sensitive parts. Gods, she was already so on edge that one simple touch threatened to undo her.
“Jake.” She put her hand on his wrist. “You’re making me crazy.”
His wild-eyed grin nearly lit her from the inside out. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”
“I’m-going-to-come-right-here-in-your-living-room-if-you’re-not-careful crazy.”
“That’s definitely the good kind of crazy.” Two fingers now, gliding across her folds, making stars appear at the edges of her vision.
“It is?” she murmured.
He nodded. “You’re going to come in my living room and then in my bed and then in my shower. And if you can manage to walk after that, I’m going to make you come in my kitchen. I wasn’t kidding about the kitchen-table thing.”
She tried to think of a witty reply, but…words? What were words? All that existed was Jake, his lips and fingers pressing against her, taking her. She tilted her head back, giving in to every sensation: Jake slipping her pants from her ankles. Jake unhooking her bra—finally—and slipping her hard nipple into his mouth. Jake guiding her to lay down and tugging her underwear off. Soon she sat completely naked as he knelt before her.
“Lean back,” he whispered.
She leaned. Every muscle in her body coiled, wound tight as a spring. Jake grasped her thighs, just tight enough to show her exactly how much he wanted this, and opened her wide. His scruff scraped her thigh, a hint of pain that made his touch all the more pleasurable.
“Gods, Eliza. You’re gorgeous,” he muttered before laying his mouth on her.
The world tilted. All she could do was sink her hands into Jake’s hair and hold on for dear life. His lips and tongue and fingers were all over her, on her, in her. Down was up, and up was down, and she was writhing against Jake Sanders like everything in her world depended on it.
Like he’d become her world.
Jake’s fingers slid in deeper, his tongue probed harder. Soon, she was panting and free-falling straight into ecstasy. He sat back, a troublemaking grin on his face and heat in his eyes. “You’re so fucking amazing,” he whispered.
She stared at the ceiling and took a few deep breaths, gathering her wits and her stamina. When she looked back at him, another wave of desire crashed into her. “I have a serious problem with this,” she said, smiling.
The crinkles around his eyes deepened. “What?”
“You’re wearing far too many clothes.”
Jake laughed. “Did I mention you’re fucking perfect?” he asked, hauling her up and tossing her over his shoulder. His palm smacked lightly against her bottom before he carried her into his bedroom and tossed her onto his mattress. “Lie down, Herman. We’ve got work to do.”
She leaned back on her elbows, enjoying the show as he stripped off his shirt. Then pants. Then boxers. Until nothing remained but his broad shoulders, flat stomach, and the trail of fine hair leading to his thick erection. “Work, work, work,” she said. “Don’t you ever take a day off?”
“From this?” He crawled over her and hooked one hand under her thigh. “From thinking about you naked? Fantasizing about you under me? On top of me? Nope. Not a single day off. I’m a workaholic.”
She slipped a hand between them and stroked. The soft skin of his cock was a perfect contrast to the hardness of his length. Above her, he closed his eyes and let out a ragged moan. The sound sent her body into overdrive, and in seconds, she was ready to go again. “Condoms?” she asked.
He kept his eyes closed and fumbled through the bedside table. “Gods, Eliza. I can’t even think when you’re touching me.”
She stopped touching him. Jake opened his eyes and grumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find them.”
She pressed her free hand to his chest, wishing she could do something to take his disappointment and frustration away. And then—just as she was having an internal debate on the merits of giving him a surprise blow job—realization dawned. “How do you feel about peach cobbler?” she asked.
“What? It’s okay, I guess.”
She grinned—a wide, illicit thing that threatened to split her in half with all the happiness she felt. “Stay here. Don’t move.”
She jumped out of bed and ran back toward the living room, where she�
��d dumped her purse. Less than a minute later, she was back with the peach-cobbler-flavored condom in her hands. She waggled it at him.
“In that case, I fucking love peach cobbler,” Jake said.
“I thought you might.”
“Did I mention that you’re perfect? Like, absolutely perfect?”
She rolled the condom over him, taking her time and relishing the way he twitched beneath her touch. “Once or twice.” She straddled his waist and leaned down for a soft kiss.
He palmed her ass, pressing her opening to his tip. “Well, let me tell you again,” he said as he slid inside her while their eyes locked. “You are fucking perfect, Eliza Herman.”
“Oh gods,” she whispered.
Every single centimeter of her skin aflame. Every nerve ending sparking. Every movement turning her world inside out.
Turning her into more.
Turning them into something more.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Perhaps even a lifetime. None of it mattered, because Jake—her Jake—was inside her and they were moving together. As one. Everything else had ceased to exist.
He rolled her nipples into furious points. First the right, then her left, murmuring her name the whole time. Everything spun. The heavy way he looked up at her—like she was the star of his wildest, sexiest dreams—sent Eliza even closer to the edge.
She rocked her hips harder and faster, pressing him deeper inside her, begging them both for release. “Jake. Jake.” It was the only word her lips could utter.
He tugged her mouth down to meet his, and their eyes locked. With a final thrust of her hips, release washed over her. Slow, then fast. Faint, then intense. Her body shattered around him, all control surrendered to the feel of his body trembling and twitching beneath hers.
“Eliza?” he whispered.
She struggled to catch her breath, and sweat beaded her skin. “Yeah?”
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he repeated.
She splayed a hand across his chest. His soft patch of hair caught between her fingers. She sighed, soaking up the feel of being so entirely intertwined with him. “Hardly. But this? Us? Fucking perfect.”
“Hmmm.” Jake kissed the tip of her nose before breaking into a playful grin. “I think we can do even better.”
“You do?” She couldn’t fathom anything better. Ever.
“I do. With practice, of course.”
She laughed. “Well, you are my mentor. So if you think we need to keep practicing—”
“Oh, we’re definitely going to need a lot of practice. In fact, I have a new rule I’d like to propose.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
He sank a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her close. “We do that every day, twice a day, for the foreseeable future.”
Eliza dropped her lips to his. “Deal,” she whispered.
* * *
An hour later, Eliza’s eyelids were as heavy as lead, but she fought to keep them open. Some distant part of her still believed that in the morning, the spell would be broken. She’d wake up in Jake’s bed, everything would be awkward, and then she’d need to go into hiding for at least three years before she could ever show her face in the Agora again.
Until then, she wanted to soak in every moment. The way Jake’s shoulder felt against her cheek, the way their legs intertwined beneath the sheets, the way their breaths fell in time with each other. Soft and slow.
“Jake?” she whispered. “Are you still awake?”
His fingers traced her shoulder. “Depends.”
She shifted her weight to one forearm and sat up just enough to see his face. His perfect, stubble-covered face. “Depends on what?”
“Whether you’re planning to leave the second you hear me snoring.”
“You snore?”
He slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed. “I guess you’ll have to stay the night and find out.”
Eliza stiffened, mental alarms cutting through her contentment. “I want to, but—”
“Stay,” he whispered. “Please.”
His voice softened something inside of her. Eliza slipped back down to the mattress and settled in beside him. It felt so good to be curled up against his chest, and if she were a person who really and truly believed in Love and romance, she could definitely stay the night like this, snuggled into his warmth, their fingers intertwined.
Her eyelids dropped a little farther, and her whole body teetered on the verge of sleep. “Do you ever feel guilty?” she murmured.
“Guilty about what?”
“I don’t know.” Half her brain had already gone to sleep, because this was not a conversation to have naked in someone’s bed, status post multiple orgasms. “Never mind.”
Jake squeezed her shoulder gently. “Come on, Herman. Guilty about what?”
She sighed. Both halves of her brain were solidly in the awake-and-full-of-regret camp now. “That we sell something that doesn’t really exist?”
“What do you mean?”
“Love. Not just the puppy love, crushes, attraction stuff we do, but actual, real capital-L Love. At least half the people who pay us are looking for it, and we take their cases like it really exists.”
Jake didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell under her cheek, and for three long breaths, she assumed he’d drifted off to sleep.
Then finally: “How do you define capital-L Love?” he whispered.
She shrugged. “I guess the happily-ever-after stuff. A Prince Charming—but one that doesn’t keep you locked in a tower or kiss you when you’re unconscious or whatever. Instead, he’s a best friend who never lets you down but whose clothes you also want to rip off. A person who feels like an extension of you, but better.” With a start, she realized just how much her version of Prince Charming sounded like Jake. “And if he has a horse, that’s a bonus. A big bonus,” she added, scrambling away from the thought.
“For someone who doesn’t believe in capital-L Love, you’ve really thought a lot about it.”
Now it was Eliza’s turn to fall silent. She had thought a lot about it over the years, especially when she was younger. But over the last decade, she’d solidified her belief and tucked it into the wall she’d built around herself. Bringing it out now made her entire foundation wobble.
“What happened?” Jake whispered.
A week ago, she would have thrown out some glib answer about seeing “too much” as a Cupid. But tonight she’d left her heart wide open and vulnerable, and he’d found a way in. She couldn’t shut that door now, even if she’d wanted to. “My parents,” she said. “Well, specifically, my mom. Remember when I took the licensing exam the first time? When we were kids?”
“Yeah.”
“After my epic failure, I drove home in a panic. I was so upset I missed the fact that there was a strange black car parked in front of the house. All I could think about was how to tell them how poorly I’d done. As soon as I stepped in, I saw them.”
“Your parents?”
“My mom and some guy. I still don’t know who he is.” Like it was eleven minutes ago, instead of eleven years, the memories rushed over her and took her into their undertow. “He stepped out of my parents’ bedroom and slipped into the bathroom. I froze. At first, I thought it was a burglar. But then my mom appeared, all smiles while she adjusted the hem of her shirt.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Not a burglar. I started to say something, but the guy came out of the bathroom, wrapped his arms around Mom’s waist, and kissed her.”
“I guess it wasn’t a friendly peck on the cheek?”
“I saw someone’s tongue, so no.” That day, sweat had beaded Eliza’s upper lip and the betrayal had made her skin feel three sizes too small for her body.
“I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“The worst part was I knew it would break my dad. I wanted to tell him. It felt like he had a right to know. But at the same time, it wasn’t that long after his first heart attack, and…”
“So you never told him?” Jake asked.
“Nope. I ran out of the house and walked around the neighborhood for an hour. It was so hot that day that I thought I might pass out. But by the time I got home, I had a plan. One that was definitely not legal, considering my unlicensed status.”
“You enchanted them?”
“Waited until the next morning when my parents were in the office and stuck my mom in the butt with a push pin. Probably did it harder than absolutely necessary, but…” She shrugged. “By that night, my parents were planning a romantic getaway, and I never saw the mystery man again.”
By the time she finished, her breaths were ragged and her head pounded with the pressure of the memories. She’d never breathed a word of this to anyone. Not even her brother. Partially because she would have gotten into a world of trouble with the Department for intentionally performing an unlicensed enchantment, and partially because she couldn’t bring herself to admit to anyone what she’d seen. But her parents were still married all these years later, and she’d never had to break her father’s heart.
The only casualty was Eliza’s own belief in Love. The kind that supposedly grew warmer and deeper with the years. The kind of Love that—if she didn’t know better—the Johansens had seemed to have. Of course, maybe that was just their excitement over their annual enchantment talking. Maybe the other three hundred thirty-five and a half days of the year that they weren’t enchanted, they despised each other. Or, even worse, were little more than strangers.
Jake pulled her in a little closer. “Eliza?”
“Yeah?” She pressed harder into his side, letting the feel of him next to her ease the pain.
He kissed her temple. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she muttered.
“I know, but I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you back then.”
“We’d grown apart by then. Don’t worry about it.” She ran a finger along the center of his chest, tracing a line to his belly button. Everything had suddenly gotten too deep and too real. Maybe if she slipped her finger a little lower, they could change the subject all together.