“I don’t have work tomorrow,” I said, finally answering him. “We’re on fall break Monday and Tuesday.”
He nodded. “Well, then, I feel bad for interrupting your sleep. I know how hard that is to come by.”
I closed my eyes briefly before opening them. “I am so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? Considering how tense you were when you first got here, I thought it was a good thing that you’d relaxed enough to sleep with me.” He grinned, and I knew he’d phrased it that way on purpose.
I huffed out a humorless laugh. Of all the times for sleep to find me.
But he was right. I’d been uncomfortable when I’d arrived tonight. Frankly, I’d been a nervous wreck most of the day. So many thoughts and feelings had plagued me, making me question my sanity, wondering what the hell I’d been thinking, asking Jack to be friends with benefits.
I’d been with one man my entire life. I wasn’t adventurous or experienced. Part of me worried I wouldn’t be what Jack expected—that I’d be a disappointment.
I’d picked up my phone a handful of times earlier today, intent on texting him and canceling tonight. But in the end, my stubbornness and manners won out. I didn’t want to be someone who broke their promise, no matter how inconsequential.
So I’d pasted on a brave face, ignored the knots in my stomach, and knocked on Jack’s door. And he’d distracted me and put my restless mind at ease. So much so that I’d relaxed into a dreamless sleep, my head on his shoulder.
When I managed to lift my gaze, I found Jack still watching me, the corners of his lips tipped up, his hazel eyes bright and focused. I liked his attention and being the center of it. I liked the way his knee rested casually against my hip. I liked that he’d made such an effort tonight—for me—likely knowing I’d be taking a leap outside my comfort zone.
I’d never call Jack gentle. He was too jaded and world-weary for that. But he was gentle with me.
There were times in your life when you needed tough love. When brutal honesty and straight shooting were the only things that might get through to the heart of you. But that wasn’t what I needed right now. I needed someone to shake things up, to be a guiding hand and a soft place to land. I needed room to breathe. To experience the unfamiliar in a safe space.
I needed someone who saw me in a way I couldn’t see myself.
My gaze traced the lines of Jack’s face. The firm edge of his jaw, the dark slash of his eyebrows, and the gentle rise of his cheekbones. He was every roguish, bad-boy fantasy come to life. A modern-day pirate with long hair and a wicked gleam in his eye.
But he was also a reassuring touch and warm fingers laced through mine. Someone who remembered all my favorite things and then actually gave them to me. Awareness and observation and intention. I didn’t know if there was anything sexier than that.
Jack had this way ofreallylistening to me. I’d noticed it before, but anytime I spoke, he focused. Most people were content to carry on a conversation while watching television or listening to the radio, driving a car or scrolling on their phone. But not Jack.
He consistently stopped whatever he was doing and gave me the full weight of his gaze. He watched me, read my expression, and heard me. It was almost as if he wanted to zoom out and get the entire picture, the full portrait of me. Like what I had to say actually mattered. No matter how small or trivial the topic.
When we’d watched television earlier, I’d felt his gaze on my face while I’d talked. It was a small thing that felt very big in my heart.
I had a bad habit of being intimidated by Jack, by his magnetism and attitude, by my own expectations and memories as well. In the back of my mind, I still saw him as the lone wolf, the rebel teenager I’d watched from afar. To have his attention—the full brunt of it—focused on me was ... dizzying. It made me feel powerful. Unsettled in the best possible way. Like a second pulse in my chest. Awareness, bright and intoxicating.
“You could stay, you know,” Jack said casually. “If you wanted.”
Before I lost my nerve, before I let my insecurities stop me in my tracks, I leaned forward, bracing one hand gently on Jack’s spread thigh, and answered him with my mouth pressed to his. I gave in to my wants and desires, the giddy pull in my middle that spoke of attraction and need.
Jack’s lips parted, and I breathed him in. Leather and warmth, whiskey and something wicked that had me tugging him down on top of me. As I lay back on the couch and Jack’s weight settled against me, I lost myself in the feel of him. Deep, drugging kisses that stole my breath. A rough hand gently cupping my jaw. My tentative touch slipping beneath his shirt, exploring to find the smooth skin of his back. All his firm muscles welcomed by my softness. And a growing hardness against my core that had mesquirming, even as my legs widened in an effort to get him closer.
There wasn’t any room for doubts and insecurity. There was just Jack, and he was more than enough to hold my attention.
My knees were bent, and I jolted as a warm hand wrapped around my ankle. The touch unexpectedly electric. Jack’s rough palm skated up my calf and along the outside of my thigh, slowly gathering the fabric of my skirt as it went.
I panted into the dimness as Jack’s lips brushed my jaw and then my neck. Little sparks of anticipation flickered in my belly as my body came wide-awake.
I wound unsteady fingers through Jack’s long hair, holding him to me as his tongue traced the column of my throat. He found the sensitive spot along my collarbone, and I arched my back into his touch.
Jack took the invitation and nuzzled his rough cheek against my breast, but it wasn’t enough—wasn’t intimate enough for the ache building inside of me.
“Here,” I whispered. “Let me.” Then I wiggled to create space for my hands.
The dress I wore had a long line of buttons all the way down the front. Jack pulled back to watch as I unfastened the top four down to my waist, exposing the lace bra I wore. His eyes dropped to the sheer, pale fabric, and something deep in my core clenched at the way he licked his bottom lip before biting down.
Jack’s gaze came back to mine, pupils dark and wide. He regarded me with that same watchful, patient expression. I likedthat he was pacing himself, taking his time, taking care—with me.
