“Jacob.” His name came out breathless. “I need you.”
His mouth found mine as his hands worked at my jeans, sliding them down my hips while I fumbled with his belt.
He lifted me onto his desk in one smooth motion, scattering papers and knocking a pen holder to the floor. The wood was cool and smooth against the backs of my thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of his hands.
“Wait.” He pulled back, his chest heaving. “I want to look at you.”
He stepped back just far enough to take me in—sitting on his desk in nothing but my bra and panties. The cut lay beside me where I’d set it when I shrugged off my blouse.
“Take off your bra,” he said, his voice low. “Then put the cut back on.”
I held his gaze as I reached back and unhooked the clasp, letting the lace fall away. Then I slipped the leather over my bare shoulders, feeling it settle against my skin.
His breath left him in a rush, his gaze turning molten as he took in the sight—me in nothing but panties and his cut. “Mine,” he said softly. Not possessive this time. Wondering. Like he couldn’t quite believe I was here.
“Yours,” I agreed.
Something fierce and tender flashed in his eyes. Then he was on me again, his mouth trailing hot kisses down my throat, my collarbone, my breasts. He took one nipple between his lips, sucking gently, and I arched into him with a moan.
His hand slid between my thighs, fingers stroking me through the damp lace of my panties. “Wet for me already.”
“It’s been a long time.” My voice was shaky. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks.”
“Only weeks?” He pushed my panties aside and slid one finger inside me, then two, his thumb finding my clit with unerring accuracy. “I’ve been thinking about this since the day we first met.”
I cried out as he worked me with his fingers, my hips rocking against his hand. He knew exactly how to touch me—remembered every spot that made me gasp, every rhythm that drove me higher. When I was trembling on the edge, he pulled his hand away.
“Not yet,” he murmured against my ear. “I want to be inside you when you come.”
He stripped off his shirt, revealing the familiar planes of his chest, the tattoos I’d traced so many times with my fingers and my tongue. I reached for his jeans and freed him, wrapping my hand around his cock.
The groan that escaped him made heat pool low in my belly. I stroked him slowly, running my hand up and down his length, relearning the feel of him. He was hard, and the way his breath hitched when I brushed my thumb over his tip made me feel powerful.
“Indira...” His voice was strained, a warning.
I ignored it, tightening my grip, watching his face as I worked him. His jaw clenched, his hands fisting at his sides like he was fighting for control. I’d missed this—the way I could undo him with a touch, the way his whole body responded to me.
I slid off the desk and dropped to my knees.
“Fuck,” he breathed as I leaned in and ran my tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein from base to tip. I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting him, and he let out a sound that was almost pained.
His hand found my hair, not pushing, just holding on. “Baby, you need to stop.”
I looked up at him through my lashes and licked him again, slow and deliberate.
“Indira.” He pulled me back up, his hands gripping my arms, his chest heaving. “It’s been over a year. If you keep doing that, I’m going to come in your mouth, and that’s not how I want this to go.”
“No?” I smiled, feeling wicked and wanted. “How do you want it to go?”
“I want to come inside you.” His voice was raw. “I want to feel you around me when I lose it. I’ve been dreaming about it for over a year.”
“Then take me.”
He lifted me back onto the desk, positioning himself between my thighs. Then he paused.
“Shit,” he said, reaching for his desk drawer. He opened it and swore. “I don’t—I haven’t been with anyone since you left. Not once. I don’t have any.”
“I’m still on the pill,” I said. “And I got tested before I moved back. I’m clean.”
