CHAPTER 29
Jake
Her words—“I’mnot perfect… but I will be if you fuck me”—slam into me like a freight train. I’m already holding on by a thread, my body wound so tight I can barely think straight, but hearing her say that? Seeing the way she looks at me, so damn sure and desperate at the same time? It’s almost enough to undo me completely.
Her fingers wrap around me, warm and sure, guiding me where she wants me. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, my chest, everywhere. She tilts her hips, lining herself up, and the heat of her soaked core against the tip of me makes my vision blur for a second.
God, she’s perfect. Too perfect.
But I can’t tell her that. Not now. Not when I know she doesn’t want those words—not yet.
I grip her hips, my fingers digging into her soft skin as I press forward, slow and deliberate, because if I rush this, if I let myself lose control, it’s over and it might never happen again. I sink into her, inch by inch, and the sensation is nothing short of devastating. She’s warm, slick, and so tight I have to grit my teeth to keep from groaning too loud.
Her head falls back, a breathless gasp escaping her lips, and the sound sends a jolt of pure heat straight through me. I push deeper, feeling her body adjust to me, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve been searching for, for years.
But I can’t think about that.
This isn’t about me. It’s about her, about what she needs, about being here for her the way I wasn’t back then.
I let out a shaky breath, forcing myself to hold still, even though my body is screaming at me to move. “Ash,” I manage, my voice rough, barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”
She blinks up at me, her eyes hazy and dark with pleasure, and she nods. “Yes,” she breathes, her hands sliding up my arms, gripping my shoulders like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. “Don’t stop.”
I close my eyes for a moment, letting the words settle over me, steadying me. Then I start to move, slow and deliberate, drawing back before pushing into her again.
The sounds she makes—soft gasps and needy moans—are better than anything I could’ve imagined. I watch her face, the way her lips part, the way her body arches into mine, and it’s almost too much.
I bury my face in the curve of her neck, my lips brushing her skin as I try to hold myself together. Her scent surrounds me—strawberries and cream, warm and sweet and unmistakably her—and it pulls me under, grounding me even as it threatens to unravel me.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, and I can feel her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper. “Jake,” she gasps, her voice breaking on my name, and it’s my undoing.
I pick up the pace, my movements still controlled but more desperate now, my hands gripping her hips to keep her steady. I want to tell her how good she feels, how perfect she is, how I’vedreamed of this for years—but I bite the words back, swallowing them because I know that’s not what she wants right now.
Right now, she doesn’t need my feelings. She needs me.
So I give her everything I have, every thrust, every touch, every ounce of restraint I can muster to make this about her. The tension between us builds, tightening with every movement, and I can feel her body trembling beneath mine, her breath coming faster, her moans growing louder.
“Jake,” she cries out, her nails dragging down my back, and I know she’s close.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her neck, my voice rough with everything I can’t say. “Let go, Ash. I’ve got you.”
Her body arches into mine, her head falling back as she shatters around me, her release hitting her like a tidal wave. I follow her over the edge, my control snapping as pleasure crashes through me, pulling me under.
For a moment, the world is nothing but her—her scent, her touch, her voice. And when it’s over, when we’re both breathless and trembling, I hold her close, letting the silence settle around us.
I press a kiss to her shoulder, light and lingering, and whisper the words I know she’s not ready to hear yet. “You’re everything.”
She doesn’t respond, and I don’t expect her to. But the way she relaxes against me, her fingers brushing lightly over my back, tells me enough.
One step at a time. I’ll wait as long as it takes.
I strideinto the studio the next day, a swagger in my step and a smile on my face that refuses to be wiped away. It’s not forced,not something I put on for the sake of appearances—it’s just there, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me.
The guys notice immediately.
Todd glances up from where he’s flipping through a notebook, his pen tapping absently against the edge of the table. His brow quirks, and a slow, knowing grin spreads across his face. “Someone’s in a good mood,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair. “Date go well?”
West looks up from tuning his guitar, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies me. “What’s with the swagger, Jake?” he asks, his tone casual, but I can see the curiosity in his gaze.
