Page 35 of Work It Out
Jake’s hands tightened on her hips, his fingertips digging into her flesh with a wildness that made her shiver. For a heartbeat Rayah was terrified he’d push her away. She’d been rude and bossy with him, and she wasn’t actress pretty or willowy thin, both of which he was obviously used to. To say nothing of her unpacking a moving van’s worth of emotional baggage and dumping it in his lap, then attacking his face like a sucker fish.
What if all that flirting was exactly what he’d said, some harmless part of his nature? What if she’d misread him and he wasn’t interested at all?
Oh God, what if she’d finally given him serious grounds for a lawsuit?
But those strong hands didn’t push her away. One slid between her shoulder blades. The other landed on the back of her thigh. He dragged her up against his chest, took over the kiss, and went plundering. She’d always thought that a stupid way to describe a kiss, but she felt it now—robbed of coherent thought, her body utterly overrun by his will.
It was glorious—scary, but glorious.
Jake broke the kiss. His lips skated across her jaw and up to her ear. His voice turned gritty. “I knew you’d be sweet, cupcake, but damn…”
Rayah took a deep breath and made a decision. She slid shaking fingers along her collarbone and down to where the towel knotted between her breasts. “Does that mean you’re going to unwrap me and take a bite?”
A shudder wracked his big body and he groaned. His gaze danced around her face, his mind racing before her eyes, until his lips firmed into a determined line. “Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on.”
Sounded like a plan to her.
Holding her close, Jake slowly stood. Her heart tossed itself against her ribs. No one had held her like this in so long, and no one’s touch had made her shiver and burn the way Jake’s did. Her nipples rubbed against the towel with each step he took, the roughness hardening them to tight peaks. He had to be taking her to the bed, but she couldn’t wait that long to have her mouth on him again. His pulse fluttered in the hollow of his throat in the most fascinating way. How would it feel against her tongue?
“Shit,” Jake hissed, stumbling when she decided to find out.
She chuckled and stretched to whisper in his ear. “What’s the matter, Mr. Newman?” She bit down on his lobe. “Distracted?”
“You have no idea.” His grip moved to her waist, and she slid down his front. That awful towel—the only thing separating her skin from the warmth of his—bunched at her waist. Against her belly, the hard length of his erection scorched her even through two layers of terry cloth.
Now, she was distracted.
Jake stepped back from her, his hands on her shoulders, and her towel dropped back into place. He’d taken her to the other bedroom. Smart. This bed was bigger.
There, standing in the dim light filtering in from the bathroom, he was beautiful. A light dusting of hair covered his pecs and tapered down to disappear beneath his towel. Heat flashed through her when her perusal reached the place where the cloth tented away from his body. She licked her lips.
Jake squeezed her shoulders. “You’re killing me, Rayah.”
“Not yet.”
He turned away, muttering something that sounded like, “You’re about to.” She was too busy studying his ass to pay attention to what he was doing. When he turned back, he moved fast and something soft drifted over her head.
“What the—” Rayah sputtered as her head poked through the opening.
“Arms,” he replied hoarsely.
A T-shirt. He’d slid a T-shirt over her head. Since it hung to her knees and smelled amazing, it had to be his. She jammed her arms through the appropriate holes. “I don’t understand.” She sounded small and wounded, but she couldn’t help it. Rejection did that to a person.
Jake reached under the hem of the shirt. Eyes locked on her face, he slowly, carefully unwound the knot. His fingertips dragged over the slopes of her breasts, down her sides and hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before he finally let the towel drop to the floor. They were both panting by the time he tried to pull her back into the circle of his arms.
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she spun away from him. Stupid men. She didn’t understand them. The one she’d thought wanted her didn’t, and the one who did didn’t stir her blood. The only things worse than men were tears. She swiped at her cheek as a fat drop escaped her eyes, followed by another and another. She knew better than to let herself cry again. Once the dam burst, it took forever to stem the flow.
Jake’s arms glided around her waist from behind. She stiffened but couldn’t pull away. Confusing or not, being held felt too good. Plus, if he couldn’t see her face, he couldn’t see her tears.
He rested his chin on top of her head and sighed. “Can I hold you awhile?”
She sniffled delicately and begged her voice not to crack. “That’s not necessary. I’m fine.” Which was totally believable when she sounded like she’d swallowed a squeaker.
“What if I’m not?”
Her scoff resonated with bitterness. “Right. Because you’re so traumatized after I threw myself at you?” She wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself. “I’m not much to look at, but I think you’ll survive the experience with minimal therapy. And don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”
He swatted her backside. Not hard, but firm enough to startle another squeak out of her. “Oh, it’ll happen again, cupcake; you can be sure of that. Just not tonight.” One finger tapped under her chin, closing her gaping mouth. “Crawl under the covers. I’ll be right back.” She protested, but he was already gone, slipping through the bathroom doorway.
