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Something, turns out to be a pinch of pain when he pulls my nipple between his teeth and then soothes it with his tongue followed by a breath of cold air.
The everything both scares and delights me. It’s the forbidden. The one place his mouth touches when he flips me to my knees, and then his finger finds when his cock is once again buried inside me. I pull away—shame overpowering desire.
“Easy, baby.”
Easy for him to say. He doesn’t have a finger in his butt.
“Stop thinking. Feel.”
I do feel…a finger in my fucking butt.
Then I feel a deep thrust that steals all the air from my lungs. Sensation in my toes. And thoughts from my head.
I come so hard I collapse face down. Ass still up. He’s still fucking my brains out and I can’t find gravity. I don’t want to find gravity. Fuck gravity. Unless gravity is Jake Swagger. Who can put whatever he wants in my butt as long as it feels as good as this does.
He comes on a warrior cry that has me arching my brow—wondering if maybe he’s a descendant of Arminius. Or part werewolf. Not just from the cry either. But from his never-ending stamina. He has to be exhausted. He’s done all the work. So werewolf or warrior descendant is the only explanation for where he finds the strength to kiss his way down my spine, then back up again, flip me over, position me in the bed so my head is on a pillow and walk to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
All I did was grunt and I can’t get these heart palpitations under control.
I’m almost asleep when he crawls into bed, pulls the covers arounds me, leans over and kisses the corner of my mouth. “How are you feeling, baby?”
The question strips me of my humor. I wear it like armor and without it I’m a coward. Which is why I pretend to be asleep so I don’t have to answer because I’m afraid I might tell him the truth. And I’m not sure what he’ll do with that truth. How he’ll feel about it. Or how his reaction will affect me.
He doesn’t ask again.
He doesn’t leave me alone either.
He lays down beside me. Curls an arm around me. Pulls me to him and buries his face in my hair. Kisses my head. I feel his whole body relax against mine. It’s in that moment I find my courage.
I want him to ask me again. I’m not strong enough to say it on my own, but if he asks, I’ll tell the truth.
I pray that he asks.
My prayer is answered with his silence and the slow, deep breathing that tells me he’s asleep.
So I stuff my truth into my bottle of emotions and save it for the next time he asks me how I feel. Which is nothing like Miss Sims.
And just like I’m falling in love.Chapter SeventeenEmily is so selfish.
A good friend would have rationed the food in the apartment, so she could stay out of sight like I asked. But not Emily. She just had to go to the grocery store in broad daylight where she could’ve been seen by anyone. My mother wasn’t in the store, but she was in her workshop when Emily got back to the apartment—the one located directly above my mother’s workshop.
“I just can’t believe you would go to such extreme lengths to lie to me. And to involve Emily…Penelope how could you?”
I throw my arm across my face and groan. “Mom. It’s fine. Emily is fine. I’m fine. She needed some time alone and I needed some time away from her so I could do some book research on my That Guy.”
“Penelope Lane Hart!” she whisper-shout-hisses. It’s so loud, I have to pull the phone from my ear. “Are you still in that man’s house?”
I peek from beneath my arm to find Jake lying awake next to me wearing an amused smile. I guess he heard.
She starts in on me again. And instead of me getting up and barricading myself in another room so he can’t hear her, I turn on my side to face him and put the phone on speaker between us. Her voice fills the room mid-sentence.
“…could be a sex offender. You just never know about people these days. Especially people from up there.” Jake lifts a brow and I grin. “They’re not like us. I don’t care how many fancy parties he takes you to or how rich he is or how nice Emily promised me he was, I don’t trust him.”
“Mom—“
“What kind of man looks like that and isn’t married?”
“Mom—“
“Emily showed me a picture on the Google.”
“Mom—“
“But she won’t tell me how to do a background check.”
“Mom—“
“I’ve already made a pie to bribe the sheriff.”
“Mom!”
“Are you having sex with him, Penelope?”
