“Right.” I nod, frustration making me feel like a teenager again. A kid without skills or language. With just his hands and his body and a desire to punch through anything that got it his way. “Christ, Kit, why the hell don’t you want to feel good, huh?”
Her mouth drops open, like she’s about to reply, and then goes still, blinking. It’s fascinating to watch her expression morph from initial shock, through realization, to annoyance and then—God, she’s gorgeous—a decisive certainty.
When she looks up and meets my gaze now, her chin’s jutting out at a stubborn angle. “Fine, you can make me come,” she says, like she’s the one doing me a favor. I fucking love it. “Just…make it quick.”
I can’t help but grin as I shift my weight onto one arm and make a show of stretching out my fingers, one at a time.
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t give a shit. Because this is so much better than doing her in the dark. And she hasn’t brought her annoying rules up once.
Course I’m the one who has to go in and do it, I guess, because I open my mouth and say, “What rule are we breaking now?”
“I don’t…I don’t know.”
“Touching. That the rule?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll just use one hand. How’s that sound?”
“Fine. Good.”
“Yeah. Now, open your legs for me, Kit.” I put my face close again and whisper, “Let me get this little pussy ready for its breeding.”
19
Kit
Heat washes over me.
I’m on fire. A molten river of hot, velvet lava.
And the bastard hasn’t even touched me yet.
This is fine. Just fine.
Leaning on the door of my coat closet, a bottle of cold champagne clutched in one hand and Jake Brand’s huge, callused hand sliding into my underwear with the kind of efficiency that comes from vast experience.
Where he’ll find me wet and ready. The way I am every time he’s around.
It’s a Pavlov’s dogs situation by now. Jake walks into a room and I turn to mush. And that’s before he went and mentioned his tongue inside me and all those other things I really, really didn’t want this to be about.
Now, as he edges one thick, rough finger under the waistband of my high cut cotton granny panties, all I’m capable of doing is leaning my head back against the wall and doing my best to look unaffected.
I don’t know why this is important, but it is.
It’s essential that he not know how much my body wants this.
Maybe it’s because I’ve never felt like this—not with Clark, not ever. My libido’s gone haywire for Jake and my body feels like it’s been trained like those dogs. Aching and edgy and constantly, constantly ready any time he’s around.
“There we go,” he mutters in that dark, slightly southern accent, his fingers fanning out over the pubic hair I told myself I didn’t have to shave for a man who wasn’t my boyfriend. At least he won’t see it this way. In the shadowy hall with my yoga pants firmly in place.
Yeah right. Who am I kidding? After that whole speech he gave me a second ago, there’s no way in hell he’ll give me a chance to hide again in the dark or under clothes. The man’s thrown down the sexual gauntlet and if I choose to take him up on his challenge, he’ll be calling the shots from here on out.
A shiver runs through me.
“See? That wasn’t hard, now was it?”
I growl.
