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He looked down as if he hadn’t even realised, then cast that rich gaze over her, all over again.
‘Perhaps that’s something you should remedy.’
An instruction, a command. And she’d never been so happy to obey.
Sitting up, she reached forward and hooked her fingers into his waistband, tugging him forward, not that he put up much resistance, and concentrated on undoing each button of his shirt. Her fingers actually shaking with anticipation as she pushed the sides open.
My God, he is glorious.
Hard ridges and sculpted contours drew her hands, and Flávia imagined she could spend a whole lifetime acquainting herself with the ever-delicious delineation. And another tasting it. She dipped her head and ran her tongue over one defined line and sensations burst in her mouth.
Salt and fire, and everything in between.
Jake.
She wanted more. As he concentrated on shucking off his top half, Flávia dipped her head and she traced more of him, learning the relief of his chest with her mouth and her hands, moving lower. And lower again. Until she was at the top of the deep V that led her tantalisingly down until it disappeared below the waistband of his trousers.
Her hands were shaking even more as she tried to work the zip, but she was determined not to let him see it. Not to let him realise how little experience she actually had. She had heard the rumours about Jake Cooper, and whilst he wasn’t exactly a playboy, she knew he’d had at least a couple of high-profile...partners over the years.
For one night only, she was going to have that same kind of fun.
Pushing his trousers down with renewed confidence, she cradled his straining boxers and finally released him from his material cage. Yet nothing had quite prepared her for precisely how impressive the man was.
So hard, so velvety and so very, very hot. She wanted to touch him, to feel him, to taste him. But before she could do any of it, he was taking a step back.
‘I don’t have any protection,’ he gritted out as though it was all only just occurring to him.
‘Sorry...’ Her head was swimming, not quite following.
‘Condoms,’ he bit out. ‘I don’t have any.’
Later, she would consider that it was a good sign that he hadn’t been prepared for her or anyone else that night. Later. But not in that moment.
‘In my clutch.’ The words surfaced hazily. ‘Over there.’
His eyes flickered but he turned with a harsh, ‘Don’t move.’
Not that she had any intention of moving.
‘Do you always go around carrying so many condoms with you?’ he demanded a few moments later as he unfolded them from the little purse like a magician producing ream after ream of coloured silk.
She flushed. ‘Does it matter?
‘Call it male ego,’ he quipped, but she was sure there was an edge to his tone.
‘My sister put them there,’ Flávia managed.
‘Ah...’ His face cleared and, however fanciful it seemed, she felt it was like the sun coming out on a grey day.
‘She might have been a touch overenthusiastic.’
‘Yeah, well—’ he discarded his remaining clothes and approached the bed ‘—I, for one, am pretty grateful right now.’
Anything else she might have said was chased from her head as he reached down and took her bottom, pulling it towards him until she was lying on her back, her hips raised whilst he removed the triangle of lace. And then he was alongside her, his mouth catching hers, demanding, and imprinting.
The kind of kiss her sister had waxed lyrical over but that she herself had never—until now—actually believed existed. It made her whole body sing. Soar. And when his hand skimmed over her belly, everything clenched and fizzled inside her.
He took his time, just like before. Only, this time, Flávia didn’t think she could wait. She already knew the muscled chest, and the corded neck. She had acquainted herself with those strong arms. But now she needed more.
