“Good,” she said softly. “Stop expecting me to vanish, Jacob. I’m not going anywhere.”
He couldn’t take her words literally—people said things like that all the time and didn’t mean it as an unbreakable vow. But he understood what she was trying to say, understood that she was serious about this. And the knowledge pulsed through his body like something more vital than blood.
She leaned forward and continued, “You asked me, a while ago, what I wanted out of life. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and the answers are getting clearer. I want to be happy. I want to feel like myself. Well, Jacob, you make me happy, and I’m always myself around you, and that—that means a lot. That means more than you know. So I’m asking you to touch me tonight, and if you do, it won’t be a mistake. It’ll be a choice. And it will mean that things are different from now on. That we’re different together.”
Fuck, he loved her. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her.
And if she was brave enough to choose him, he would bloody well choose her back.
* * *
Tonight had been perfect, but through it all, a quiet, steady urgency had hummed just behind Eve’s breastbone. She’d caught herself, a few times, rubbing the place where her heart was because it physically ached. Now she was with Jacob, and the ache was replaced by a melting warmth that flooded the air between them.
She was making the right decision, for once. Of this, she was absolutely sure. Eve was meant to be here with him, and her confidence in that fact was a liberation all its own.
Then he stood and walked around the desk toward her, and conscious thoughts faded away in favor of more basic impulses. Little electric flashes spread from low in her belly, and they felt like want, hunger, need.
She exhaled, hard, and watched him come.
“Is it terrible,” he asked conversationally, “that I’m going to fuck you on this desk?”
Her thighs tensed, her nipples tightened, her teeth sank into her lip. But her voice remained light as she replied, “Not in my opinion.”
“You know the traffic light system, don’t you?”
“As in red means stop?”
“Yes.”
“I know it.” She reached beneath the neckline of her dress, and snagged the condom nestled between her breasts. Waving it in the air, she said, “Green.”
Jacob faltered less than a foot away, looming over her like some sort of horny god. Behind his glasses, his eyes were dark and stormy, and his razor-sharp cheekbones were softened by that raspberry flush. “Where,” he asked tightly, “did you get that?”
“There’s a dispenser in the ladies’ at Mont’s pub.”
“And you—” Jacob dragged a hand through his hair, his expression almost pained. “You really spent this whole night planning to come home and sleep with me, didn’t you?”
It was all Eve could do not to purr at the dizzy satisfaction in his voice. “I thought you’d like that.”
“I like you,” he said roughly, taking that last step toward her. “I—Eve—”
“Mmm?” He sounded as if he was gearing up to say something, but Eve found her attention ensnared by his rather prominent erection. She’d taken her legs off the desk, so he was standing between her spread thighs, his waist at eye level. She only had to look down a tiny little bit, and her field of vision was dominated by the thickness in his jeans.
And gosh. Gosh. What, was he smuggling a butternut squash down there? The thing was obscene. Eve was absolutely thrilled.
“Eve . . .” he said. “Are you staring at my dick?”
“Of course I’m staring at your dick, darling. What did you think I was proposing we do, here?”
“I was hoping for more than staring, actually. I just—I think I forgot about the way you look at me.”
She tilted her head back, meeting his eyes, seeing a world of dark desires within that familiar frost. “And how do I look at you?” she whispered.
He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and pulled her gently to her feet. Then he said, “Like this,” and kissed her.
It felt like being consumed.
Jacob surrounded her—the clean, fresh scent of him, the heat and strength of him, the weight of his cast against the small of her back and the delicacy of his left hand on her cheek. He cradled her face and tipped her head back and nibbled at her lower lip, and when she gasped he kissed firmer, harder, more desperate, and sucked at the tip of her tongue. Eve had never had anyone suck her tongue before, but she decided from now on it would be a requirement.
And since she could no longer imagine kissing anyone who wasn’t Jacob, that struck her as just fine.
He pressed their bodies together tightly, so tightly, as if he wanted to push his way inside her. Then she felt the fat curve of his dick against her belly and remembered he did want to be inside her. They should make that happen soon. Very soon. But right now, she was a bit hazy and melty and all the other lovely, legless sensations that came with being so thoroughly kissed. He felt as if he adored her. As if everything between them was some kind of worship. As if she was more than good enough; she was the best he could ever have.
“Fuck me,” she breathed against his lips, and pushed him back against the desk.
“Foreplay,” he countered, but his own breaths were quick and harsh. He sat on the desk and ran his shaking hand from her cheek down to her throat. “The first time I saw you, I wanted to touch you right here.”
“Before I opened my mouth, you mean.”
“Yes. And now you’ve opened your mouth many, many times, and I want to touch you even more.” Gently, he wrapped his hand around her throat and pulled her closer. Then he bent his head and grazed his teeth over the bare, tender curve where her neck met her shoulder. A shiver zipped between Eve’s breasts and spiraled through the softening heat of her cunt. She moaned, and he kissed the place he’d barely bitten, hot and wet and decadent.
“I want to learn every single sound you make,” he said softly. “I want to be the one who brings you pleasure. Every time. Can I?” His hand went from her throat to her breast. He traced a finger over the edge of her dress for a second before pushing the bodice down in one decisive move.
Eve’s breath caught, coalescing into a gasp that remained trapped in her chest. All she could hear was the thud of her own pulse, all she could feel was cool air and Jacob’s hot gaze on her nipples, as tangible as a touch.
“Say yes,” he murmured, and cupped her in that squeezing, shameless way he had, as if he could spend a lifetime doing nothing but this.
“Yes,” she managed, the word shuddering out of her as she arched into his hand.
“Tell me I’m yours now,” he ordered, quiet but immovable. He licked his thumb, then touched her other breast. Circled her nipple with that firm, slick pressure while his words infected her blood.
Tell me I’m yours now. It felt as if he’d given her all his secret tenderness, just handed it to her and asked her to take care of it. And she would. She couldn’t do anything but. Only—the moment seemed so solemn, she felt a little guilty for finding it mind-blowingly hot as well.
But that couldn’t be helped. Because here was Jacob, studying her with steely intensity, touching her like he owned her, asking her to own him. So, really, was it any wonder she wanted to rip his clothes off?