a thousand times over.”
He claimed my mouth in another kiss.
I opened to him immediately, his tongue tangling with mine. He tasted like warm summer days and hurricanes, like everything I wanted and everything I didn’t know I needed. He caught my bottom lip between his, sucking and nibbling, and I was reminded of the first time I saw him. That terrible kiss in the ruin bar brought Hunt into my life. I never thought I would be grateful for the worst kiss of my life, especially not while enjoying the best.
He kept one arm banded around my ribs to hold me up, and the other dragged down my back to my ass. He cupped me, grinding me against his hips, and I wrapped my legs around his waist for better friction. But then I wished I hadn’t because my legs met his wet jeans, which I wanted off. Like ten minutes ago.
My fingers found the waistband of his jeans. I was pressed too tightly against him to manage the buttons, and I whined into his kiss.
I tugged on his jeans, and felt him begin moving toward the bed.
He dropped me on my back without warning, and I bounced against the mattress.
Shocked, I yelled, “You—”
I swallowed whatever insult had been coming when he flicked open the button of his jeans and slid them down over his naked hips.
When I managed to pick up my jaw, I followed his lead, slipping my underwear over my hips. I kicked them off, leaving us both bare before the other’s gaze. We were getting the sheets wet, but who the hell cared? For several long seconds, we both just stared at each other, drinking in the sight that for so long we’d denied ourselves.
Hunt smiled darkly and said, “My imagination didn’t do you justice.”
“Imagine me naked a lot, did you?”
“Only every other second.”
I smiled and the last of my frustration fled to be replaced by anticipation.
I sat up so that my face was level with his abdomen.
He ran a gentle hand through my hair. I turned into his touch and kissed his wrist. Then I leaned forward and licked a stray water droplet from his bare hip.
His hand tightened in my hair, and he exhaled sharply.
I circled my hand around him, and he choked out a groan. He stayed still for a few seconds, his eyes directed toward the ceiling.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked. “If you thought about me so much, if you wanted me … why push me away?”
He pulled my hand away from his body, kissing the back of my knuckles instead.
“I couldn’t do this lightly. Not with you. I needed it to mean as much to you as it meant to me.”
He leaned down and kissed me sweetly on the lips. So sweet it burned, like sugar around the rim of a Molotov cocktail.
Gripping my hips, he slid me back farther on the bed, until just my feet were dangling off the edge. I sat up on my elbows and watched him as his eyes surveyed me from head to toe.
He picked up my right foot, and placed a tender kiss on the inside of my ankle. That kiss started a fire deep in my bones that ran through the rest of me like a lit fuse. As he kissed my calf and the inside of my knee, my bones melted down to liquid. His hands started at my heels and ran up the backs of my legs, tickling the sensitive skin. I squirmed, pulling my knees together, and he placed a hand low on my abdomen stilling me.
“Patience, princess.”
I had no patience left. Especially not if he was going to do the same thing he did every other time and pull back when he came to his senses.
I said, “You’re not going to change your mind, are you, Jackson? Because I can’t keep doing this.”
He said, “I hope you can keep doing this. Because I don’t plan on letting you out of this room until my seven days are up.”
22
HIS MOUTH TRAILED up the inside of my thigh, and I was breathing so heavy that I was on the verge of hyperventilating. One of his hands still pressed into my stomach, and the other pushed my knees apart. His teeth grazed my skin, and my hips bowed up.
He was going to kill me.
I could actually die like this.
“Please,” I said.
“Please what, princess?”
His breath fanned across my inner thigh, and just that was enough to send shockwaves of pleasure through me. The hand on my stomach slid down to the juncture between my thighs, and I completely lost it.
I turned my head to the side, and swallowed a moan.
His fingers drew me to the edge, working me until all I could do was whimper and breathe, whimper and breathe.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
My body clenched around his fingers, and all I could say was “You.” His thumb pressed hard against my most sensitive spot just like it had the night before, and I said, again, “Oh God, you.”
All I knew was that he was too far away, and I didn’t need any more foreplay. Our whole damn relationship had been foreplay. I wanted him now.
I reached a hand down toward him, and he laced his fingers with mine. I tugged, and he stood from where he’d been kneeling. I pulled again, and he put his knee on the bed between my thighs.
He hovered above me, his body lean and muscled, and his eyes predatory. He looked like he wanted to devour me, and I was all too willing to be his victim.
I released his hand to touch his waist, and then I pulled his body down on top of mine. I threw my head back and moaned at the contact.
His mouth went to my shoulder, tracing along the line of my muscle to my collarbone. His thigh pressed up and against my center, and I held my breath. He lifted his head to look at me. When our eyes met, he pressed against me again, and the breath I’d been holding tore from my lungs.
He bent to taste my lips, gentle and focused. I clutched at his back, marveling at the way his muscles flexed and moved as kissed me.
“Please,” I said again. “Please Jackson.”
His eyes softened, and he pressed his forehead against mine. His eyes closed, and he took a slow, deep breath. Then he leaned down and placed a kiss on my sternum, between the swell of my breasts.
“Give me a second.”
He slid off of me, and I felt like I was drowning every second that it took for him to grab a condom and come back to me.
I rose up on my elbows, and he crawled above me. He kissed me sweetly, slowly, and the frenzy of our previous moments disappeared. There was a level of intimacy in just kissing him that I’d never experienced, and it left me excited and terrified of what came next.
Sex had never been a big deal to me. But everything about Jackson was a big deal. I was afraid I wouldn’t be good enough, afraid that I wouldn’t know how to have the kind of sex that meant something. What if when it was over, he regretted crossing that line?
His hand smoothed over my cheek and he said, “Don’t. Don’t do that.”
I didn’t know if he knew the exact line of my thoughts or just that I was worried, but it soothed me all the same.
He kissed me, and then slowly eased me back on the bed. He lay beside me, and I turned on my side to face him. I laid my head on his arm, and he pulled me into his chest, just holding me for a moment. We’d held each
