I pause, my pulse hammering in my ears. I should tell him goodnight, send him on his way. But instead, I find myself pushing the door open and stepping inside, leaving it open behind me.
He doesn’t hesitate. He follows, his steps slow and deliberate, as though he’s giving me every chance to change my mind.
I set my purse down on the counter, my movements deliberate, controlled, anything to distract from the storm raging inside me. “Do you want something to drink?” I ask, my voice steadier than I expect.
“I’m good,” he says, his tone calm, but there’s something behind it that makes me stop.
When I finally turn to face him, he’s standing just a few steps away, his hands still in his pockets, but his eyes—God, his eyes—are locked on me, dark and unguarded.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he says, his voice low and steady. “This isn’t pretend for me. It hasn’t been pretend since you walked into our studio. And honestly I should have found you sooner, I knew where to look?—”
The words hit me like a punch, and I feel my walls begin to crack. “Jake…”
He takes a step closer, his hands falling from his pockets, but he doesn’t touch me. Not yet. “I know it’s going to take time,” he continues, his voice softening. “I know we hurt you, and I know it’s not going to be easy. But I’m not walking away, Ashlyn. Not again.”
I swallow hard, the knot in my chest tightening. “It’s not that simple,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. How can I want him with everything in me, yet fear the feeling at the same time?
“It doesn’t have to be,” he says, taking another step closer. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time. But I need you to know—I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
The raw honesty in his voice leaves me breathless. My eyes dart away, but his presence keeps me anchored, his scent steady and grounding in a way I can’t ignore.
When I look back at him, his gaze hasn’t wavered.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admit, my voice trembling.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says gently. “Let’s just talk.”
He moves toward my living area and I swallow before following him. When he settles into the armchair, I curl my legs under me and pull a pillow onto my lap as I sit on the couch.
The conversation flows, easy and light. God, how I’ve missed this. An easy connection. When I was with Owen, it always felt like if we weren’t in front of the media flaunting our relationshipthat it wasn’t enough for him. But this right now, with Jake—it’s just comfortable.
We both relax. It’s just us. But it’s getting late. I clear my throat and bite on my lower lip, attempting to find the words to say,hey if you stay much longer I might jump you.Right, like I’m an omega that can’t control myself. I can. But I’m reaching the point where I might do something I shouldn’t.
I uncurl my legs and stand, moving toward my kitchen area. Nerves buzz in my belly. “Jake,” I start. What am I doing? I’m going to ask him to stay.
“Wait, Ashlyn. Just… let me be here with you tonight. Let me stay. No pressure. No expectations. Just us.”
My heart stutters to a stop, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. It’s exactly what I want. I nod, the smallest movement, and the way his shoulders relax makes my chest tighten even more.
Jake’s eyes flicker with something darker, something deeper, as he steps closer. His hand lifts, brushing against mine where it rests on the counter. The touch is soft, hesitant.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low as his other hand lifts to cup my cheek.
I don’t. I can’t.
My breath catches as he tilts my chin up, his gaze locking on mine, searching for permission. And then his lips find mine.
The kiss starts gentle, tentative, but the moment I respond—when my hands clutch his shirt like I need something to hold me together—it changes. He deepens it, his fingers sliding into my hair, pulling me closer, his body pressing into mine.
I gasp against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to trail his lips down the line of my jaw, fire following everywhere he touches.
“Jake,” I whisper, but it sounds more like a plea than anything else.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his expression intense, unreadable. Then, without a word, his hands grip my waist and lift me onto the counter.
The cool surface contrasts with the heat coursing through me, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is the way he steps between my legs, his hands spreading warmth where they grip my thighs. His lips find mine again, hungry now, like he’s been holding this back for far too long.
When he kisses my neck, I can’t help the soft sound that escapes me—a cross between a sigh and a hum of pleasure. His teeth graze my collarbone, his lips soothing the spot right after, and I shudder against him.
