“It’s okay,” I say lightly. “Nothing in comparison to what he ended up with.”
Jake’s lips pull tight to one side so quickly that I almost miss it. His eyes are unrelenting as he watches me, telling me how sorry he is. How ashamed he is of his actions. But also telling me he’d do it again if he had to. No questions asked.
We hold each other's gaze, then I tend to his wounds.
“This is gonna hurt,” I warn.
He nods and takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. I gently dab the alcohol-soaked pad against the lesion over his brow. It’s deeper than I thought, and blood begins to pour out of it. I apply more pressure, and he grunts in response, his jaw clenching, his hands becoming fists at my sides.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I say quickly, lightening the pressure but not releasing my hold on him. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” he replies through gritted teeth. “Keep going.”
I continue to work on the gash, alternating between patting and blowing before I adhere two butterfly stitches over it and apply a thin layer of Vaseline on top.
I do the same to the smaller cuts on the bridge of his nose, under his eye, and then move to his lip.
I clean the dried blood from around the split, lessening the size of the wound. I pat and blow again, not noticing the way my fingers trail the fullness of his perfect lips. My eyes seem focused on the task at hand, but in my mind, my mouth is already on his, his hot tongue forcing my lips apart. His wounded hands explore my body, thrusting between my legs.
My breathing shallows. I’m everywhere but here right now, and the desire is rolling inside me in luscious waves.
I drop my hand, closing my eyes as I beg the rising want to go away. Beg this untimely need to dissipate. To—
The warmth of Jake’s hands on the top of my thighs severs my thoughts, a nervous, pleasured wave striking my belly.
His thumbs move in small, caressing circles while his fingers wrap around the backs of my legs.
My eyes snap open, my sight confirming the sensation I’m feeling is real. A roaring desire ignites in my core at his beautifully flawed hands on my body. It flares with a life of its own, settling as an unbearable yearning between my legs. My lungs are shaking. My eyes track his chest that rises and falls just as quickly as my own.
When my gaze finds his, the primal need in it awakens a dark and twisted heat in me that has me ready to throw my whole world into the flames.
“Alana.”
My eyes slam shut, and my head rolls back in pleasure at the gritty way he saysmyname. I can feel it like a tantalizing stroke against my body, traveling up my chest and wrapping around my heart, squeezing it tight until it bursts. He brings his forehead down to mine.
“Tell me what happens next,” he breathes.
I almost choke on the words that climb up my throat. At the way my entire body tingles with an aching hunger only he can feed.
Jake’s hand slithers up my chest, circling around the base of my throat. It’s absolutely electrifying. I swallow hard beneath his hand, my eyes shooting open with a lustful desire staining them.
“Tell me,” he rasps, his head tilted just enough. The way his breath dances against my lips… It’s too fucking much to resist.
I grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine, slamming us together until we’re fused as one. His hand tightens against my throat, the other gripping my leg as he pulls me flush against him. My hands tangle in his hair as he pulls me even closer.
He kisses me with power and strength. A fierceness that makes me nearly explode. The copper metallic taste of him swirls on my tongue. Iron and blood. Dirty and damaged. Impure and imperfect.
Just like me.
I moan into his mouth, savoring the taste of it. Of him. Ofus.
I reach for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his arms as I pull it off him, his mouth crashing back onto mine the second he’s free. His large hand grips the back of my neck, guiding me where he wants me to go, angling me so he can taste more of me.
I pull my sweater off in one swift motion, my legs wrapping around him and closing the gap the break created. He kisses and sucks his way down my neck, across my collarbone, over my breasts. He guides me back until I’m lying flat on the countertop. The cold surface singes against my back delightfully.
“Tell me what comes next, Alana,” he breathes against my sensitive skin as he kisses around my navel. My hands drift intohis hair, and I hum into the feel of him as he lowers between my legs.
“This,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
