Hannah: IDK whether to take that as a compliment or not. (And I totally offered to take care of that for you)
Jack: Oh, it’s a compliment. I would have eaten your pussy again for sure.
Dear Lord, he had a dirty mouth for a guy who abstained from sex. Her abdomen went liquid, and her skin heated so much she wanted to kick off her blankets.
Hannah: Such a gentleman. But I don’t know if I could have handled any more.
Jack: Your taste turns me on so much that I would be even harder than I am right now.
It was way too good to be true. Still, she snaked her fingers underneath her panties. Sure enough, her vagina had no compunctions about mansplaining or flirting with other women.
Hannah: You should do something about that
Thinking about him touching himself while she was touching herself—and how it was the closest they were going to get to having actual sex—turned her on even more. His celibacy was going to make her obsessed with his getting in his pants. If they’d done the deed last night, it might have been boring or uncomfortable or less sexy than foreplay. But now that it was forbidden, she couldn’t stop thinking about him sliding inside of her.
Jack: Are you telling me to jack off?
Hannah: if you must.
Jack: Oh, trust me, I must.
Hannah: As long as you’re thinking about me . . .
Jack: I can’t think about anything else, Duchess.
So she was on his mind? Maybe that’s why he’d started acting weird? It was scary to like like someone. Hell, she was scared of how much seeing that he thought about her in text was making her feel.
Hannah: Well, now I have a situation.
Jack: A flood in Ms. Havisham’s basement?
Why did he have to be so flipping funny? It turned her on and made it harder to view him as just a piece of meat that would get her a promotion.
Hannah: Swept away all the cobwebs.
Jack: Stop turning me on with literary references and spread your legs.
She wasn’t about to tell him that they were already spread and she was close to coming.
Hannah: Why would I do that?
Jack: So you can rub your clit, pretend your fingers are my dick, and we can get off together . . .
Jack: Are you touching yourself?
Hannah: Yes. You?
Jack: Pretending I’m deep inside you
She was pretending the same thing and so, so close. And the fact that he was moving so fast when he specialized in slow meant that he must be close, too.
Hannah: Already?
Jack: Remember I’ve already sucked your clit until you started sounding angry about it? Keep up, Duchess
Hannah: What position are we in?
Jack: I want to take you from behind, but I want to see your face the first time. Hmm.
Both. She definitely wanted both. But face-to-face was a lot. And this wasn’t supposed to be a lot. Despite how much she wanted to kiss him while they boned. Shit. She needed both.
Hannah: We’ll just have to do it more than once . . . if you’re up for it. Making up for lost time and all.
Jack: If you can be a smartass, you’re not doing this right. If I were there right now, I’d spank you.
As a rule, she was not into that kind of thing. But from Jack, she could totally get down with a little slap and tickle. But he didn’t necessarily need to know how much that turned her on.
Hannah:
Jack: That’s two.
Cheeky.
Hannah: I’m so scared! (And turned on, keep going)
Jack: Where were we? Ah, I’m inside you’ve already come once so you’re very wet and very tight and I’m listing saint names in my head to keep from making an ass of myself.
She rolled her eyes for real at his reference to saint names. It was his religious vow of celibacy keeping them from doing this for real right now. But then again, this was maybe better. He couldn’t know for sure how much he was affecting her.
Hannah: Think about how they were martyred so I can catch up.
Jack: On it.
Jack: Dammit, Hannah. Even thinking about your pussy has me feeling like a rookie again. All that pretty, wet pink.
Mansplaining and weird behavior aside, this man knew exactly what to say and how to say it to get her close.
Hannah: That’s the stuff. Right there . . .
Jack: Put two fingers in before you come. Almost as good as me there with you.
She didn’t read that last text for several minutes after she came. She had to close her eyes against how much he pushed her buttons, even when she was doing the pressing.
* * *
—
NOT FUCKING HANNAH WAS going to be the death of him. Sexting with her made him come so hard that he had to catch his breath. And her response when he sent her a picture of his abs smeared with evidence of what she’d done with him told him that other guys were probably just doing this whole sexting thing very, very wrong.
He was so strung out on finally getting to come with Hannah that most of his humiliation from telling her that he was saving sex for marriage the night before was gone. Patrick would never stop laughing at him when he told him that.
Not that he was going to tell the father that he’d used the church’s teachings on premarital sex to avoid having sex with Hannah when they hadn’t ever mattered before. Jack was pretty sure that was a sin, and he was guessing that there weren’t enough Hail Marys and Our Fathers to make up for it.
But it was the only thing he could think of in the moment that would save him. Not that it would save him from falling for Hannah. Nothing could stop that. Not after he’d slept in her bed. Not after she’d told him things he got the feeling she never talked about. Not after that morning.
Guilt at lying to her ate up his afterglow. He was so screwed.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HANNAH ALWAYS HAD POINT on the company Halloween party, which she’d never been nervous about. She always had the perfect venue, theme, decorations, and music planned by late June. And this year was no different in those respects. But there was more riding on it this year. If this went well and she could convince Annalise that Jack had fallen in love with her, she would be a VP.
Uncharacteristic butterflies roamed free in her belly. After spending the night with Jack and the ironically sexy sexting that came the morning after, she was fairly certain that Annalise would interpret whatever was between them as love. But a little bit of uncertainty remained.