Page 119 of Dead Pretty

Happy.

Such a singular word. A small word. But it means so much to me.

He means so much to me.

“You make me happy,” I tell him, hoping that I make the importance of these words known.

He likes that. I see the way his face changes into a smile.

“You make me happy too. And … you’ll make me even happier right now if you slip out of those sleep shorts”—he tugs on the fabric of them—“and then climb back up here on my lap and sit yourself down on my dick.”

He winks, and I laugh.

I’m not laughing a moment later when he puts his mouth on mine and kisses me.

The feel of his lips on mine … it is electric. Every molecule of my being pays attention when Jack touches me.

When he’s with me like this, I feel like there is no more me. Just us. I drown in him, and I like it more than I can say.

I slide my hands up into his hair. Fingers sifting through the silky, wavy strands.

Something feels different about this moment. I don’t have the words to explain it.

Just … his kiss is softer, gentler. Searching.

I’m not wholly sure what it is he’s seeking from within me, but I am here for it.

I’m here for him. With him.

There is nowhere else I would ever want to be.

He exhales, and it tickles my lips.

Then, the kiss turns deep. Endless.

Each sweep of his mouth over mine runs together, creating a never-ending kiss.

I squirm restlessly in his lap, needing more contact.

He makes no move to give it to me.

His hands slide up my back, into my hair, fingers tangling into the strands, while his tongue continues stroking mine.

Then, his fingers move to my neck, tracing a line down to my shoulders.

I want his hands on my breasts. But they just stay there, teasing circles on the skin of my shoulders.

I don’t know where Jack is going to take this moment. But I’m more than ready and willing to go wherever he wants.

A finger slides under the strap of my tank and moves lower.

Yes.

But instead of dragging the cup down to free my breast, like he normally would, his finger just trails a path over the swell of my breast.

It’s the sweetest form of torture.

His mouth leaves mine and kisses a path across my jaw to my ear. Teeth grazing the lobe, his breath hot and flirting with my skin, he whispers, “I’m crazy about you, Audrey.”