Page 54 of His Fake Fiancé

She had plenty regrets in her life. Adding not having sex with Jake Callahan, when the opportunity was right there, was not going to be one of them. She was done running, from her feelings, from her regrets, from her fears.

Please let her be making the right decision.

She climbed out of the jeep. It was freezing, so she wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the cold. Why hadn’t she stopped and grabbed her coat? She should wait for Jake, so they could talk, but it was too damn cold. Instead, she hurried around the side of the house in the direction of the guest house.

Gravel crunched, the engine cut off, and a truck door closed. For some reason, even though she’d known Jake was following her, and she’d decided to finally do something about her feelings, even if it was only for one night, she started walking faster. It felt an awful lot like running, but she couldn’t seem to slow down.

She slipped past the pool fence. Only a few more yards and then… what? She’d be safe? Safe from what? Jake had a key to the guest house, had every right to be here. Even more than she did. This was his home. It had only ever been the place she dreamed about. She loved her family, she truly did, but there had always been something magical about this place, about the Callahans.

A few more tears slipped out, leaving an icy trail on her cheeks. She didn’t know why she was crying. It must be rogue emotions, tired of being suppressed, using this moment, this crumbling of her shields, to rise to the surface. If they’d just stop, she’d probably be able to think straight, to make a decision.

The porch light of the guest house blazed to life, the brightness making her already sore eyes ache. The light was angled in such a way that it lit up all the space between the house and the guest house. Ever since Jake’s sister-in-law was almost kidnapped from the guest house a couple of years ago, the Callahans had beefed up security to Fort Knox levels. Not that Claire could blame them. What happened to Grace had been scary, and even though it was unlikely to happen again—Grace was attacked by her ex, who was now dead—it still made Claire feel safer.

She wanted to look back, to see how close Jake was. Because she knew he was behind her, even though the blood was rushing though her ears so fast she couldn’t hear anything. After following her from the city, there was no way he was going to say forget it and go into the main house. And if she was being honest, she didn’t want him to give up on her. She’d just hoped for a few more minutes to get herself together. Maybe splash some water on her face. Definitely wipe the tears off her cheeks.

Her breath fogged in front of her face with every hard exhale. She rushed up the stairs, reaching into her pocket for her keys. Her fingers were numb, from both the cold and her runaway emotions. It took a couple of tries to pull them out. She unlocked the door and pushed it open.

And then Jake was there, sliding to a stop in front of her, the breath heaving in and out of his lungs. Had he run here? And why was he looking at her like he was afraid she was going to disappear in a puff of smoke?

Without saying anything, he wrapped his arms around her. His heat and scent surrounded her, reminding her of the dance they’d shared. Of the words of the song. Of how they’d crawled inside her, made her realize she was holding onto a fantasy.

She should push him away, step back, break his hold. But she was so tired of fighting her attraction to him. So tired of being strong. So tired of putting her wants aside because they didn’t align with everyone else’s plans.

“Claire, I don’t know what—”

She raised up on her tip toes and pressed her lips to his. He was startled, she could tell by the way he stiffened against her. For a second, fear streaked through her. He wasn’t interested in kissing her. He didn’t see her in that romantic way. She’d made a mistake. A huge, embarrassing mistake.

It was the moldy cherry on the top of this melted ice cream cake of a day.

And then Jake pulled her tighter against him. Moved his lips against hers, kissing her back. Everything else, all of her doubts and her fears fell away. This was what she’d wanted for so long, and she was done fighting it. Done telling herself she couldn’t have it. It was right here, and she was taking it.

She licked at his lower lip. He opened his mouth without hesitation, inviting her in. She took advantage, slipping her tongue inside. He tasted even better than she remembered, spicy and sexy and all Jake. He let her play for a moment, tease and explore. And then he took over, sweeping his tongue against hers and then into her mouth. Diving deep, and taking what he wanted, everything she wanted to give him.

She made an embarrassingly needy noise in the back of her throat and slid her arms around his neck. He pulled her up, off her feet, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The heat of his body was a perfect contrast to the icy air and she shivered. He slid his hands down and over her butt, giving a squeeze. His palms felt so good against her chilled skin, even through the denim.

Tightening her arms around him, she pressed her chest against his. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples tight. She nipped at his lower lip, drawing it into her mouth and sucking on it. A growl reverberated deep in his chest. She felt it echo in her own.

He walked them into the house, not letting go of her, and kicked the door shut behind them. The light over the stove was on, so they weren’t in pitch black. Not that it mattered, because she didn’t want to stop kissing him. And kissing didn’t require light.

Seemed Jake felt the same way, because he walked them through the living room, his tongue battling with hers. The kiss was hot and wet and oh, so dirty. Heat flooded her veins, making her skin tight and tingly. Her core throbbed and she tightened her legs around him.

He squeezed her butt, digging his fingers into her flesh. She squirmed, every nerve ending sparking like the fireworks on the Fourth of July. The band of sensation low in her belly tightened. She pulled away from his lips with a gasp, the breath sawing in and out of her lungs. He stared at her, his eyes indigo in the shadowy house. She couldn’t read his expression, didn’t know what he was thinking.

A trickle of doubt bled through her. He was going to change his mind, wasn’t he? He was going to see it was her he was kissing and realize what a mistake this was. Put her down, pat her on the head, and walk away.

“Are you sure?” His voice was raspy, sexy, with just a hint of strain.

He was giving her an out. All she had to do was say the word and he would stop. This would end. She just needed to open her mouth and tell him this was a bad idea…

“Yes,” she said, the word coming out as more of a sigh than anything else. “I’m sure.”

And then he was pressing her back against the wall, his lips crashing against hers, kissing her hard. If she’d thought their previous kisses were dirty, then this one was downright filthy. Lips and tongues and teeth crashing together. Licking and sucking and tasting each other.

She arched against him, rocking against his erection. He made that sexy growling noise again, tearing his lips away and trailing kisses along her jaw, down the length of her neck. She tilted her head back, gave him better access, and he took full advantage.

He sucked and licked and nipped at her skin. Goosebumps chased themselves up and down her arms and back. He traced his tongue along her collarbone and then down into the space between her breasts. She sucked in a shaky breath. The plunging neckline of her shirt meant he didn’t have to work too hard to get to her skin. He nuzzled the side of her breast, pushing aside the silky fabric.

Her breasts ached, her nipples tight, just begging for his lips or his teeth or his tongue. She sank her fingers into his hair, the silky strands soft against her skin. “More.” Her voice was breathy and needy. “Please, Jake.”