Where she was soft and delicate, he was tense, a rigid wall of muscles. Firm and hard everywhere. And despite the brim of his hat shielding his forehead, she could read the piercing look in his eyes that compelled her to remain in place.
Screw or fight. That’s what he needed. He’d always been known as a fighter growing up. But damn if she didn’t prefer him to be Jesse, the lover. And if he needed to release his tension, to let go, she’d rather it be with her.
“Jesse,” she let out on a shaky breath, finally moving her feet and closing the distance.
He tilted his head but didn’t budge.
“Do you want me?” She set a hand to her abdomen while stopping a few feet away from him. “Do you need me?”
He turned to face the stairs, and the light from the fire threw shadows across his handsome face. With his profile to her, he replied in that low, raspy drawl of his, “I always want you, Ella Mae, but I won’t use you, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Now’s the time. He needed to hear the truth from her.
Wetting her lips and heart pounding three times its normal speed, she closed her eyes and shared, “And if I were to tell you that I haven’t had sex in three years and I need you, what then?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jesse had her hand twined with his in the space of a heartbeat, and she nearly tripped over her own feet as he led her up the stairs without uttering a word.
Once in the bedroom, he set his gun and hat on the dresser and turned to face her. His dark expression and deliberate strides had her quickly backing up to the closed door.
The look in his eyes matched the hard flesh her fingers ached to touch still hidden beneath his plaid button-down shirt.
He brought his palms flat on either side of her head against the door, caging her there with his strong frame, and his muscular arms bent at the elbows as he leaned in closer.
“Explain.” The order had her heart racing, and a warm, tingling sensation traveled into her chest.
She nibbled on her lip, searching for the words.
“Tell. Me.” His gritty reaction was the last thing she’d expected from her revelation.
Was he angry? She stole a glimpse of his hand from the corner of her eye before looking back up at him.
“Brian didn’t . . . fuck you?” He spit the word fuck out harshly, like he wanted to kill Brian all over again, which made no sense. He should’ve been glad Brian hadn’t had sex with her, but instead, he seemed offended on Ella’s behalf.
Ella lightly shook her head, her normally sassy mouth betraying her under Jesse’s intense scrutiny. “No,” she finally murmured, lifting her chin in search of that backbone of hers. “How—how could I?”
The look in his eyes didn’t soften, and it took her a minute to realize he was trying to wrap his head around the news. For years he’d assumed she’d been with another man because he’d “given her up.”
But she hadn’t shared her body and definitely not her heart with anyone. And now he knew. But what would he do with that news?
“I guess you should also know I’ve never let a man go down on me.” Her tone remained barely above a whisper, and his lips parting was the only indication he’d actually heard her confession. “Ever. My first time was on the plane.” His silence was going to destroy her if he kept it up. She slowly walked her fingers up his chest, and his breath hitched. “Say something.”
She gasped when he thrust his pelvis forward, pinning his body to hers. At the feel of the hardness between his legs pressing tight to her, it was obvious he was as aroused as she was.
Jesse angled his head and brought his mouth to her ear, catching the soft part of her lobe between his teeth before letting go to whisper, “I need to fuck my wife.”
Wife. The deep tone of his voice had her knees nearly buckling, but she refrained from collapsing against him. I’m a Hawkins woman. Be strong. Wait, no, I’m a McAdams. Well, hell, what am I? The marriage was fake, after all.
Grounding herself back to the moment, she set a hand on his cheek, directing his attention to her face. “Only if you promise to make love to me after.”
Jesse rolled his lips inward for a brief moment, his attention snagging on her mouth before journeying back to her eyes. “With us, darlin’, they’re one and the same. Hard or soft. Slow or fast. With you, it’s always love.”
“Even in New York?” she whispered.
“Every time with you,” he rasped, his teeth grazing over her lower lip. The impending storm gathering over everyone’s head was yesterday’s news for now. Time stood still as she tethered herself to the present, to this moment with him.
He slanted his lips over hers and wasted no time to invade her mouth with his tongue, taking full control.
She fisted his shirt, prepared to tear it from his body as he freed his hands from the door. One palm went to her waist before slipping under her shirt and following the curve of her spine. He unsnapped her bra with deft fingers, and she arched into him as he deepened their kiss.
Her hands flew to the buttons of his shirt, momentarily fumbling in her hurried state. Clearly as impatient as she felt, he took over the task and ripped his shirt clean open, shrugging it from his shoulders before it fell to the floor. And in the blink of an eye, he’d peeled her top over her head and yanked the already unclasped bra down her arms, bringing their bodies tight together again.
The feel of his chest pressed to her breasts had her rotating her hips in circles, wanting to feel other hard parts of him.
“You’re mine,” he declared, sending her heart into overdrive once again.
With one hand practically glued to her ass beneath her sweats, she worked at his buckle, doing her best not to bite his tongue as desperate need ravaged her.
“Jesse,” she cried when he palmed her sex, his rough hand cupping her there without moving. Just holding her pussy like he owned it. And holy hell did he ever.
“You know what saying my name does to me,” he reminded her, and yeah, Ella knew. And also, she wanted him to tear her apart because she needed this more than she needed her next breath.
“Jesse,” she said again, provoking him a little more by stealing her lips from his to set her eyes on him.
She felt his chest lifting against her as he breathed through his nose, studying her, possibly torn between flipping her around and fucking her right against the door or taking her on the bed.
He slowly guided a finger along her seam before two went inside her tight channel. “No one ever touches you again. Fucks you. So much as looks at you.”
She felt that order all the way down to her toes, but she also knew it was more of a rough command directed at himself: Don’t screw up and lose her.
This possessive side of him, though, had existed in her dirty thoughts over the last three years. Those words had played out in her mind during her fantasy-hate-sex.
“No one but you,” she promised at the realization he was waiting for compliance before he continued stroking her sensitive, swollen flesh.
And the dark smirk that chased across his lips for a second had her leaning into his palm. She let go of his buckle to grab hold of his biceps with both hands, searching for stability with her legs trembling as he drove a few fingers deep into her soaked center.