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Fifteen
Drew was tongue-tied the entire way home. Having Jenna in his car, taking her to his home—it was huge. It filled up his chest until he could barely breathe, let alone speak. He’d never felt this way, even when he was a teenager just learning about sex. He’d started out by faking it. Pretending to be cool and confident and smooth until that became the truth.
But it wasn’t his truth anymore. Not with Jenna. He couldn’t pretend. All bets were off with her. Nothing could be taken for granted. And the stakes were so damn high.
He kept his grip on her slim, cool hand, when he didn’t need his own hand for driving. Whenever he had to let go of her, he promptly reached for her again. Assuring himself that she was real.
But she was also nervous. He could not screw this up.
He pulled into the driveway that led to his property on Lake Washington and parked the car in the garage.
“You designed this house,” she said.
“How did you know that?”
“I’ve seen your buildings. I knew it was yours because it was so different from the lakeside McMansions we passed. Your designs don’t fight with their environment. They’re harmonious.”
He was absurdly pleased that she got it, and that she liked the house he’d designed for himself. As well as embarrassed. He was showing off to impress her, like a little kid.
“Come on in.” He took her hand to lead her down the flagstone path that wound through the trees and landscaped garden of the front lawn to the main entrance. When they went inside, Jenna stood in the middle of the entry hall with its row of skylights, and then strolled into the living room. A long wall of glass overlooked the lake, with lights from the other side of Lake Washington wavering on the water. French doors led out onto the patio. A wooden walkway wound through the grass and trees down to a floating dock, and his boat. Another thing he’d been too busy to use lately.
“I’ll give you a tour tomorrow,” he offered. “When we have some light.”
But not now. I’m dying to touch you.
“Okay,” she murmured.
Drew watched her as she wandered around his living room. He tried to remember what common courtesy demanded.
“Can I take your coat?” He slid open the panels in the wall in the entry hall, revealing the deep cedar-lined closet. She moved closer, turning to let him lift the coat from her shoulders. That released an intoxicating waft of sweet fragrance. Her hair had rebelled from its coif, her ringlets floating up free and dangling around her throat. Her skin was so fine. So soft. He wanted to bury his face against it.
He swallowed, hard. “Can I get you a drink? I have whiskey, brandy, or I could open a bottle of wine. Or mix you a drink from the bar. Anything you like.”
She peeked over her shoulder, a seductive smile curving the corners of her luscious red lips. “Better not,” she murmured. “I’m in an altered state already.”
“Want me to build a fire?” he asked.
“When we’re already so hot?”
Her light, teasing words made the heat roar through him. His hands flexed, clenched. “You have a point,” he said, rigidly controlled.
“I’m too impatient for time-wasting moves like that,” she told him. “After weeks of being constantly tantalized.”
He let out a harsh crack of laughter. “Me, tantalizing you? Like hell! I’ve been stretched out at your feet ever since that very first day. I have held nothing back!”
“And this smooth seductive patter of yours? The drink, the fire?” She rolled her eyes at him. “Are you going to show me your etchings now? Your butterfly collection?”
Her voice was playful, but he was so attuned to her now, he could sense she was wound incredibly tight. Trying to keep him at arm’s length with her teasing.
The first step was to unwind her. Very...slowly.
He didn’t try to reply. Just came up behind her, and leaned down to kiss her shoulder, letting his lips trail up to the nape of her neck. No words. No seductive patter. Just his lips, moving over her skin. A slow, dragging caress, the rasp of his teeth. A delicate nip. Her hair was so soft and fragrant. So warm.
She tilted her head, allowing him more access.
He took advantage of it. Gave himself up to it. Oh, yeah. He could do this all night. Hot, hungry kisses, slowing down time. Exploring every inch of her throat, her shoulders. Getting her to relax and soften in his grasp. He wanted her helpless with pleasure. So aroused, she couldn’t even stand up. That was the goal.
Her breath was uneven as he slid his arms around her waist from behind. One hand splayed over her belly, whisper-thin silk separating him from her warm skin. He loved the tremor in her body, the breathless sound in the back of her throat as he slid his hand up, feeling her rib cage. The soft weight of her breasts. The smoothness of her skin above the dress. Her racing pulse.
