He’s buttoned up today. The cardigan with the elbow patches, the waves of his hair neatly tamed. I want to run my fingers through them, shake them all apart.
He follows me inside, closing the door behind us. And then my hands fly up to his neck, pulling him down, pressing my lips to his.
“Here?” he asks, his voice thick with surprise.
My mouths breaks into a smile, and he releases a huff of air.
“You are unreal,” he says. And then he lowers his head, pressing his lips to the curve of my throat.
“In a good way or—”
“A good way,” he murmurs against my skin. “Always in a good way.”
He pulls back, his expression tender. “Arms up,” he says, and itsends a quick thrill through my body. He notices my reaction immediately, his eyes flashing with satisfaction. He knows now what I like, what I want, and when I raise my hands, he peels my T-shirt off.
Then he sinks to his knees, his cool fingers ticklish against my stomach.
I wriggle, and he laughs, a warm puff of breath. “Hold still,” he says, unbuttoning my jeans. I place a hand on his shoulder for balance as I free one leg, then the other.
And when he looks up at me, taking his glasses off with one hand, carefully folding them and setting them on top of my discarded clothes, I lean back against the wall.
I’m vibrating, desperate for him, and without even meaning to, I let a single word fall out of me. “Please.”
He responds immediately, taking two fingers and pulling my underwear to the side, and then, at last, his mouth is on me.
He’s relentless. The way he moves is determined and practiced and confident. He knows exactly what will bring me over the edge. His tongue sweeps in a pattern that builds and builds, and then he switches, circling around me, and my eyes squeeze shut.
I whimper, and his hand squeezes my thigh. Tight. “You have to be quiet,” he tells me, his voice hushed. “Can you do that?”
Our eyes meet. His are bright, his lips glossy, and the sight of it makes my body go lax. This put-together man is completely undone. By me.Forme.
I nod, quickly, and his fingers tighten on my skin. “Good,” he says. And then his mouth returns, rewarding me. It only takes a few seconds. I was so close, and now I’m falling, my hand in his hair, holding him against me.
My mouth falls open, but I keep my promise, not making a sound. Until my legs give way, and Jacob is there in front of me, keeping me upright, his tongue sweeping into my mouth.
“Jacob.” I say his name on a sigh, and he absorbs the sound.
“You did so good,” he tells me. “You’reso good.”
And I melt into him, because I remember thinking the same thing about him. The first time we met. And now that I know him, I know the truth of it.
His heart, his mind, all of him. Every inch of him is good, and I tell him so in whispers as he holds me, as I come back to my body, as my pulse returns to its resting state.
I reach for him, but he takes a step back. “Not now,” he says. “Later.” His mouth hooks to the side. “I want to see the dress.”
He helps me into it, and I take the tie from him, trying and failing to do the knot for him.
We laugh, softly, as he pushes my hands away, loosely fixing the tie.
We look in the mirror. His hair is mussed, his tie is crooked, and my dress is only halfway zipped up my back.
“We’re a mess,” I say.
“I know,” he says. He leans down behind me, his chin resting on the top of my head. “I love it.” He turns, pressing a soft kiss to my temple, and it’s perfect. All of it. The two of us. Natural, and good, and right.
We change back into our normal clothes and finish our purchases, but when Jacob asks if we’re ready to go home, I shake my head.
“One last stop,” I say. I pull out my phone, doing a quick search, and even though he asks me where we’re going, I refuse to tell him. “It’s a surprise.”
