Don’t be weird! He’s a trained professional; act like a damn adult.
I force a smile and offer up my leg, and he begins his inspection.
“Do you mind bunching your skirt around your thighs so I can take a look?”
Please, oh, Lord, please—don’t let this get awkward.
With shaky hands, I wrap my flowing skirt around my thighs.
“You don’t have to be anxious around me. I’m pretty sure you’re okay, but it’s always good to error on the side of caution, especially with injuries close to major joints.”
He bends, twists, and pokes at my leg, and I tell him when it becomes uncomfortable.
“So, what’s the damage?”
“You might want to ice it, but you should be fine.”
My chest rises and falls like a piston, not exactly a reaction I want, but there’s precious little I can do with my heart racing like it is.
Jake looks deep in contemplation, like he wants to ask me something. I have a feeling I know what that something is.
I take a deep gulp of wine, trying to buy myself precious courage.
Back in high school, girls threw themselves at Jake, and it was probably much the same throughout college. It wasn’t just because he was attractive, though he had looks in spades, it was his charisma. No matter how bad your day was, he could find a way to make it better.
His hands move lightly across my calf, barely kneading the muscle but causing my body to rouse, nonetheless.
“I think you have some built-up tension I’d love to relieve,” he says, his voice coming out thick and husky.
This is where I should erect firm boundaries between us, but for the life of me, I can’t. I need this. I don’t think I can get through this summer alone with my gran.
This is what he’s made for. He clearly wants you, and you are desperate for him. You’d bestupid to pass him up.
I exhale a shaky breath and let my head fall back against the headrest. My body loosens, and I part the leg he isn’t holding—a clear invitation.
He wastes no time gently setting down my leg and crawling up between my thighs until he’s looking deeply into my eyes. He takes my cup of wine and sets it on the little table I have beside the lounge, then brings his lips crashing down.
He kisses me slow and sensually, stroking his tongue against mine as he pushes it deeper into my mouth.
I moan, my body so eager for his that I can hardly think straight.
After a full minute, he withdraws, staring at me intensely. “I can’t wait until I make this tight little body relax.”
Yes, please!
He growls, then buries his face in my unruly locks, smelling deeply.
I run my fingers through his hair, relishing his closeness, and when his hips jerk and his bulge presses against my core, I gasp, to his delight.
“Be patient,” he says, snaking a hand under my shirt and unhooking my bra.
I feel drunk on lust, my panties already soaked through. Jake is physical perfection, and judging by his expression, he’s as excited as I am.
My hands move down to his muscular chest. “You have no idea how hard it’s been to concentrate with you walking around shirtless,” I say.
“Mission accomplished,” he jests, lifting my shirt and bra up. I raise my arms, helping him to pull them off.
He damn near whimpers at the sight of me. “God, I don’t know how I’ll ever concentrate around you again knowing what you’re hiding underneath your layers of clothes.”
