“Thank you,” I say again and take it. The glass is icy, and I want to rub it over my chest to cool off my feverish skin.
After managing to manoeuvre the straw into my mouth, he watches as I suck the vodka down, his brows rising until the liquid disappears and there’s nothing left but chunks of ice. There’s a small slurp at the end, and then I’m placing my empty glass on the bar. I notice he’s barely taken a sip of his beer, but I’m not sure I have the patience for him to finish it. I take it from his hand and set it next to my empty glass. “So … how about that tour?”
Jake’s lips curve slowly, wicked and hot.
My girl parts clench.
Holy mother of God.
7
JAMIE
Goose bumps prickle my skin as we step outside, moving from the packed heat of the bar to the chilly night air.
Jake notices, his brows drawing together. “Where’s your coat?”
I rub my arms, an attempt to keep warm. “I didn’t bring one.”
“Jamie,” he tuts and wraps an arm around my shoulders, drawing me close as we walk towards the cab rank. The weight of it is heavy, his gesture wonderfully intimate. For the first time in so many years, I feel safe and protected, despite being with a man I barely know. Leaving with Jake is probably another tick in my list of reckless pursuits, but my gut is telling me I’ve inadvertently found a good guy.
Maybe it was the way he took me with him to the bar so I could feel safe drinking my vodka without worrying about what could potentially be slipped inside. Or maybe it was the way he stole my phone and took a snapshot of his licence with it, telling me to message it to Erin before we left. Or maybe it’s the way he’s walking slowly with me right now, allowing me to take my time in my dainty heels.
Does that make you happy, Bear? That I found a good one? Or are you out there nursing a lifetime of regret?
A wave of sadness engulfs me, making my stomach clench in a knot. Two years later and I still miss him. I still think of him every day and talk to him in my head. Why does everyone who ever matters just up and leave?
Jake gives my shoulder a squeeze as we reach the kerb. “You okay?”
I turn and face him, tilting my head, meeting his eyes. His arms come around me, warm and strong, and I realise that perhaps nothing will ever be okay, and maybe that’s okay too. Maybe that’s what life is all about. Snatching moments like this. Ones that get you through when you have nothing else.
“I’m feeling very okay right now.”
Jake smiles and looks over my shoulder, lifting an arm as he hails a cab. It pulls alongside, and he lets me go, opening the back-passenger door. “You sure?”
I step down onto the road and take hold of the door, slipping one leg inside before turning back to look at him. “One hundred percent.”
Taking a seat, I scoot across so Jake can slide in beside me. He does, pulling the door shut behind him. His bulk crowds me, making me hyperaware of how his body brushes against mine.
“Where to?” asks the driver.
“Lilly Street. Thanks, mate.”
We roar off into the night, and Jake slides his palm across the top of my thigh, holding me there. My breath catches and holds.
“Tell me about your travels,” Jake says, talking like it’s completely normal to be in a cab in the middle of the night, a hand intimately placed on the leg of a girl he barely knows. He turns to look at me. “You mentioned doing a lot of it when you were young.”
Right. Casual conversation. I can do this. Just pretend guys have their hands on your upper thigh every day of the week. No biggie. Ha!
“We did. Travel a lot that is.”
“Who’s we?”
His palm begins a slow rub. I let out a shaky breath. “Me and my Dad. For his work.”
“What kind of work?”
“He was an MMA fighter,” I reply, the admission coming a little easier now than it used to. My past is old news to the general public now. No one connects the dots anymore, not unless they dig a little deeper, and no one apart from Bear and Erin have ever bothered to do that. “You know, mixed martial arts?”
“That’s impressive.” Jake’s palm continues its slow rub. Tingles erupt all over the place. “Did he teach you any moves?”
“He taught me all of them.”
His beautiful green eyes flare, and he leans in. I turn my head and it brings us a mere inch apart. “I knew there was something about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You carry yourself differently. Like you have confidence in your body and what it can do. There’s no fear.” His palm slides inward, and my pulse begins to race. “It’s incredibly sexy.”
I swallow, barely able to think. “Is that why you came over?”
“You want to know why I came over?”
“Yes please,” I breathe.
“Because after I saw you, I couldn’t see anything else.”
My heart gives a steady thump, starting to feel things.
Don’t even go there.
My heart thumps again in protest.
It’s a line, Jamie. One he likely uses with all the girls.
The cab arrives at a small cottage situated three blocks away from the beach. Even at night I can see it appears in desperate need of a renovation with its worn and faded little picket fence, weeds in the garden, and sagging porch.
Jake pays the driver before I can offer any money. Then he has my hand and he’s helping me from the car.
“This is where you live?” I ask while he shuts the door.
The driver speeds off, and we make our way down the cracked cement path. “I rent it, but it’s in such a great spot that I’m hoping to make it permanent. My sister and I have talked about buying it together and renovating it.”
“You have a sister?”
“I do. Her name’s Finlay, but we call her Fin. She’s younger than me, but she’s crazy smart. She’s studying to be a research scientist,” he says with some measure of pride. “She wants to focus on climate change in the arctic.”
“Wow, that’s amazing. I think the world needs more people like her.”
He sticks his key in the lock of the front door and turns it. “One day all the ice in Antarctica will melt and be no more. I hope I don’t see it in my lifetime. But maybe her research will make a difference.”
Jake pushes open the door and guides me inside, his hand on the small of my back. “So,” he says, shutting it behind us. “You really want that tour?”
“Maybe later.” My fingers slide through the belt loop of his jeans, and I drag him close, surprising myself with my boldness.
Jake ducks his head. “Later,” he whispers against my lips.
Then his mouth is on mine, his tongue sweeping inside. He nudges me backwards with his body until I’m pressed against the front door behind me. My first real kiss is hot and hard, and for a moment I’m suspended in shock. It disappears quickly and I don’t hold back, hoping he doesn’t notice my inexperience.
He groans at my enthusiasm and I slide my hands slowly up his chest, looping my arms around his neck. His slide down, reaching around until they grip my backside. His tongue pushes deeper, kissing me like I’m air and he’s drowning. It doesn’t feel like enough. I need more. I know he feels the same when he frees a hand and uses it to fist my hair violently, ramping my pulse up and into the stratosphere.
I’m struggling for breath when he draws his mouth from mine. A panting, trembling mess with legs made of jelly.
“My room,” he croaks, turning me around.
He walks me backwards down the hall, kissing me.
Every part of my body is throbbing, screaming yes, yes, YES!
But somewhere in my heart speaks a little voice so small I can barely hear it. Wait.
What? Did you just say wait? Wait for what?
Bear.
No. I want this. I want Jake.
Jake is a good guy. He won’t mind if you ask him to stop.
I don’t
want him to stop, dammit.
We reach the end of the hall, and Jake stops me by the doorway, pulling back, his eyes unfocused and hair mussed. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks as if he can hear the conflicting thoughts in my head.
“No.” I kick off my shoes and it drops my height down a couple of inches, forcing me to tilt my head even more to meet his eyes. “Hell no.”
I grab his shirt, shoving it upward. “You need to lose this.” He gets on board and tugs it over his head, baring his chest to my gaze. For a moment I stare, transfixed. His body is like an endless ripple of sand dunes. Rugged, golden terrain that somehow defies reality.
Jake bunches the shirt in his hands with an impressive display of biceps before he tosses it away. I’m still staring when he’s done.
“You okay?”
“I don’t think so.” My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. “I’m just not sure that …”
“That what?”
I wave a hand over the gift he’s shared with me. “All that is real.”
He grabs my hand and plants it on his stomach.
His abs do a little ripple. “What was that?”
Jake grins. “Your hands are cold.”
“I didn’t have a coat, remember?”
His gaze drops to my cleavage, heating. “I remember.”
“Take off your pants,” I demand.
He arches a brow. “You take off yours.”
I reach for my pants button, unfastening the little clasp before I can think. I yank the zipper apart and shove my pants down. Jake watches, his eyes sparkling gems of amusement as I perform what I’m sure is the most unsexy strip in the history of stripping. Freeing them from my ankles, I kick them away. It leaves me in nothing but my little black bustier and a scrap of lace with black straps around my hips that masquerade as underwear.
When I’m done, I straighten, huffing as if the effort of disrobing was equivalent to a hundred-yard sprint. Jake is watching me, and I feel like he’s restraining the urge to laugh. Am I doing this wrong? Fuck it. I plant my hands on my hips, feigning bravado. “Let’s do this.”
“You sound like you want to get it over with.” A smirk spreads across his face like warm, melted butter. “Sex isn’t laundry, Jamie.”
“I know that,” I mutter, defensive.
“How about we have another drink first?”
“A drink. Yes!” I leap on the offer, swinging my arms and lightly clapping my hands together in a ridiculously obvious attempt to appear casual. “A beer if you have it.”
Jake turns and walks further down the back of the house. I follow, down to where the hall opens up into a little kitchen on the right and living area on the left. The back doors might be old, but they’re framed white French doors that open wide onto a timber deck that further looks out onto a yard too dark too see. His couch is wide and plush, the kind you sink inside like quicksand, and thick cushions invite you to lie down and rest your head.
“Make yourself at home,” he calls out, his head stuck in the fridge.
I do, taking a seat on that cosy couch in nothing but my little bustier and sexy knickers. I hear the clink of glass and a fridge door slamming shut, then he’s walking over, two bottles of pale ale in his hand. He holds one out to me—I take it—and sets his on the scarred coffee table in front of us.
He takes a seat, twisting his torso to face me and resting his arm along the back of the couch.
“So …” I bring the beer to my lips. I’m trying to think of something clever to say, but my insides are bouncing all over the place. I’ve got nothing. “What do you do?”
“I’m an army boy.”
Erin did say the bar would be full of them. I should have guessed by his build alone. His muscle doesn’t appear carved out of regular gym reps. Rather it appears earned by the great outdoors—running up mountains with rucksacks, long-distance swimming, obstacle courses so difficult you pray for an injury just so you can stop and rest. It’s what awaits me, and the thought has my nerves ratcheting up another notch.
“Is that a problem?”
“Not tonight it’s not.”
Jake grabs his beer and takes a swig before he sets it down, shifting a little closer. “But tomorrow it is?”
“I won’t be here tomorrow.”
“Yeah? I was kinda hoping I’d be waking up with you tomorrow.”
Waking up with someone like him? I’m pretty sure I could do that every day.
“I’m leaving town.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“I guess you could say I’m an army girl.”
“Jamie, baby, why?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“You could, but it’s dawning on me that if you’re leaving tomorrow, we need to make the most of the time I have you.”
Jake takes the bottle from my grip and sets it down beside his. Then he takes my hand and tugs me close until he’s able to grip my waist and lift me, setting me astride his lap. My hands splay out across his chest, the heat of his body vivid. I tremble with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. “This is how we’re going to make the most of it?”
“Hell yeah it is.” He tilts his hips upward, rubbing his crotch against mine. The friction eases the ache between my legs and heightens it at the same time. It’s unexpected and exciting. The surprise must show on my face because he stops.
“Don’t stop.”
“Jamie, have you…” he gives me an uncertain look, “…have you done this before?”
Dammit. How can I be so bloody obvious? “Not this,” I reply, waving a hand between us. Hopefully he thinks the gesture means just this particular thing we’re doing right now and not well … everything.
Jake’s hand on my thigh slides inward, and he palms the warm achy place between my legs, rubbing firmly over my underwear.
Ugh.
So. Good.
I moan.
“What about this?” he asks, his eyes intent on my face.
Dammit. “Not this either.”
“Jamie,” he says, groaning. His head tips back against the couch, and he closes his eyes, releasing a frustrated, husky chuckle. He removes his hand, leaving me bereft. And even though I’m still on his lap, I can feel him withdrawing. “When you said you planned on breaking someone’s heart tonight, I kinda thought you were teasing.”
“Jake.” I grab his hand, putting it back where it was. “I’m not here to break your heart. I just want you to …”
His head straightens, eyeballing me. “To what?”
My voice lowers as if there are people around who can hear me. “Fuck me.”
He sucks in a breath.
“Please?” I beg, because yeah, it can’t get any lower than this, right? My cheeks feel hotter than the sun right now. “Fuck me, Jake.”
His hand withdraws again, and I feel so ridiculously frustrated I want to throw a hissy fit right on this couch. “Can I just get one thing straight? You’ve never done any of this before? You’re a…” he hesitates as if the word is foreign before forging ahead “…virgin?”
“Only in the physical sense.”
“Only in the …” Jake scratches his head.
“I’ve watched porn. I know how it all works.”
He laughs. “Okay.”
“So in the mental sense, I’m one hundred percent de-virginised.”
“What about the emotional sense?”
I shift my hips forward, mimicking the way Jake was rubbing me before. He groans.
“What about it?” I ask.
My hips are grabbed in vice-like hands, fingers digging in like he’s trying to stop me and urge me to keep going all at the same time. “It should be special. With someone you care about.”
“I care about you,” I throw out brazenly because the friction still feels so damn good. I’m pretty sure I’ll say anything at this point to keep this train rolling forward.
Jake gives me a look.
“Well.” I rub and grind som
e more. “Given the chance I could.”
His chuckle is throaty and thick with frustration as the hands on my hips lift me up and set me back on the couch beside him. “You’re incredibly stubborn.”
I reach behind me for the little hooks that hold my top together. Perhaps taking it off might help my cause because seriously, I’ve been geared up for sex all day and I’m not leaving until I get it. “Damn right I am. This is happening, Jake.” My lips purse, arms straining as I struggle with the first hook. I tug at it. “It’s so…” tug “totally…” tug, tug “…happening. Then I’ll leave tomorrow…” tug “…and you won’t have to…” frustrated growl “…see me again!”
“Jamie—”
“Arrrgghh!” My arms flop as I give up, huffing. Sweat dots my brow and hair sticks to my hot face. I can’t even begin to imagine how incredibly unsexy I must appear to him right now. A desperate, sweaty, stubborn, virginal mess. Let’s face it. I’ve embarrassed myself enough tonight.
“I think I should go.” I start to rise, swiping my beer from the table because I’ll be needing one for the road.
Jake grabs my wrist and I halt. “Don’t.” He shakes his head. “We should…” his eyes look around, searching for something “…watch TV or something. I’ve got a PlayStation.”
My eyes narrow on his face, my little heart bleating at the rejection. “You want to play computer games?”
“Well, I’d rather be doing something better than that, but I’d rather you not leave either. What about Call of Duty?”
“You’ve got the latest version?”
He nods.
“Well why didn’t you just say that? What could be better than playing Call of Duty?”
Jake gives me a look as if to say yep, you clearly have not had sex before. My hand is released and after setting down my beer, I walk over to his television unit, hoping like hell his eyes are on my ass, the one that could be gripped in his hands right now if only he wasn’t more stubborn than I was.
I know my cheeks are mostly exposed. The underwear is definitely not designed for practical purposes.
Eat your heart out, Jake!
I turn my head slightly as I bend, reaching for the entertainment console. From my peripheral vision, I can see he’s looking. Oh, he’s definitely looking, his hands rubbing up and down his thighs as if he’s trying to calm himself down.
Fighting Absolution Page 6