She gasped into his mouth as he lifted her effortlessly, his hands gripping her thighs, her ass, pressing her against the counter. The hardness of it dug into her back, but she didn't care.
She needed him. Needed the lie, needed the comfort, needed the only arms that had ever made her feelwhole.
Jake tore his mouth from hers, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath ragged. "Tell me to stop."
She didn't.
She curled her fingers into his damp shirt, fisting the fabric. "Take me upstairs."
A curse slipped from his lips, something desperate and raw, before he carried her through the darkened bakery, up the stairs to the apartment he had spent so many nights.
The moment they were inside, the door barely clicking shut, she was tugging at his shirt, her nails scraping against his stomach, feeling the tremor in his muscles.
Jake caught her wrists, his grip firm but shaking. "Let me," he rasped.
Hannah's breath hitched.
She tried to touch him again, but he shook his head.
"Please," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Just… let me do this for you."
Her knees almost buckled.
She should refuse. Should demand her own control, should keep herself from being vulnerable like this again.
But then he was lowering to his knees in front of her, sliding his hands up her thighs, pushing her shorts down with agonizing slowness.
She was already wet, aching, desperate for him.
And when his mouth found her—soft at first, reverent—her head fell back against the door with a soft cry.
"Jake."
His hands gripped her hips, holding her still as he worked her, his tongue stroking slow, deep, coaxing moans from her lips that she barely recognized as her own.
She twisted her fingers into his hair, tugging, trying to ground herself.
He growled against her, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through her.
Her hips bucked, but he held her firm. "Please," he murmured again, his breath hot against her. "Let me give you this."
She let him.
Let him take her apart with his tongue, his hands, his mouth. Let herself forget for just a moment that he was the man who had broken her.
Because before that, he was also the man who had made her feel safe.
And when he finally lifted her into his arms, carrying her to bed, settling his weight over hers, she couldn't understand howthishad ever been a lie.
"Hannah," he breathed against her lips as he pushed into her, slow, deliberate.
She gasped, arching into him, her nails digging into his back.
He moved inside her with aching reverence, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath shuddering with restraint.
She wrapped her legs around him, taking him deeper, needing him to fill the hollow spaces inside her.
"Look at me," he whispered.
