CHAPTER 31
JESSI
Why did Jack agree not to see Natasha so easily? Why does he not want me near Tanner so badly? I don’t get what the big deal is. I mean, clearly, Tanner’s an asshole, but why does Jack care? Did he know Tanner might take me to the other club? Is he trying to shield me from some of his life?
While Jack showers, I search top mob movies on my phone and decide onThe Godfather. Then I work on a list of what we need from the store for the week—turkey burgers, sweet potatoes, and kale would be good. Hmm. I’m not sure if Jack likes any of that since it’s such a stretch from mac and cheese.
I run up the stairs to get his opinion on the list and start to yell through his bathroom door when it swings open and Jack walks out. I shriek, jumping and reaching out to him. We both shuffle around each other, fighting to stay upright. I slam my hands on his chest, and he grabs my arms as I step backward. I notice he is still in a towel. It hangs low on his hips, ready to fall with the slightest movement. Water drips off his skin, making his body shimmer. Does he not dry off? I’m thankful if he doesn’t. I could watch water glisten off his body all day.
Suddenly, cold droplets of water hit my sizzling skin and jolt me from my lust-filled haze.
“I’m sorry,” I cough. His green eyes blaze as they sweep over my face. “I wanted your thoughts on my meal-prep menu.”
After indulging in another eyeful, my gaze travels from Jack’s face down his body. It’s then that I realize my hands are still plastered to his chest, my nails digging into him like I’m clinging to a rock. He doesn’t let me go. My eyes wander back up to his beautiful face. I never noticed his rugged jawline, but it’s strong and a perfect complement to his tattooed body. His lips are plump. Water droplets race from his hair, down his face, his nose, and lastly to those lips that I so badly want to have brush against my skin. I peer into his green eyes and watch his pupils grow. He’s staring at my mouth, and I wonder if he wants to know what I taste like.
“Whatever you were thinking,” he says, his voice husky, “I’m sure it would be great.”
I swivel my head.How does he know what I’m thinking? Oh. The menu.
“For . . . meal prep?” I whisper.
He rubs his thumbs over my arms, soothing the area where he grabbed me.
“Yes, Jessi. Meal prep. Were you thinking of something else?”
I almost melt into the floor when he flashes that boyish grin at me.
“No. I was thinking turkey burgers, sweet potatoes, and kale,” I say as best as I can. My memory has gone foggy, like I’m high or dreaming.
He slowly backs away, and I let my hands drop from his chest, my fingers sliding down his stomach before I remove them completely. Goose bumps cover his skin. Before thewarmth of him retreats entirely, he says, “Sorry for getting you wet.”
My face flames. He drags his thumb across my chest and collarbone, wiping away the fallen drops.
Oh my god.That’s right. I’m wet because of the water. If he only knew where else he got me soaked.
“Sounds good to me.” He puts his thumb in his mouth and licks his skin. “I love anything sweet.”
I gulp. My feet are cemented to the ground, and my head swims.
“Baby, I need to get dressed,” Jack continues, his voice strained. “You can stay here if you want, but you might see something you don’t want to see.” His hand moves to his towel, thumbing the space between fabric and skin.
I snap out of my trance, the heat of my flush spreading from my head to my toes. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.”
I close the door and fly down the stairs.
His laughter follows me all the way to the kitchen.
CHAPTER 32
JACK
As I watch Jessi close the bedroom door behind her, I can’t help but chuckle to myself. Did that really happen? What would I have done if she had said she’d wanted to stay? Did it cross her mind? I’d like to think so. The way her eyes darkened when she checked out my chest, or the blush on her cheeks when I said I had gotten her wet tells me she was probably thinking the exact same thing. The idea of having her makes my dick harden more.
I wonder if her eyes would widen if she saw it, and if she’d gasp as I slowly filled her with every inch of me. Would her cheeks turn that shade of red as she continued to take me, thrust after thrust? My dick stands almost at constant attention with her in my house. I don’t know if the fantasies are as good as reality, but I’d love to find out.
Shit. Why can’t I stop thinking about her like this? She’s driving me insane.But I don’t want her to be with anyone else either.
I growl. Thinking of another man touching her, claiming her, irks me. I wonder if she’s experienced. I’m sure she is, since she’s nineteen, but probably with boys who don’t know their wayaround a pussy. I bet I could make her scream my name using only my fingers.
