CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Despite its relatively small space, the Floating Cork’s enclosed rear garden managed to accommodate fifty or so of Marissa’s and Trig’s closest friends. Wine and laughter flowed with equal ease, verifying the shindig’s raging success. Struggling to keep her grin under wraps, Jane slid Jack a sidelong glance. “I’m really glad I suggested this couples party.”

He grunted. “Your faulty memory disorder is... interesting, to say the least.”

“And convenient,” she tagged on with a nod before taking a healthy sip of her Pinot Grigio. The crisp notes of the vino played along her taste buds like a dreamy melody. “Where the hell has this wine been all of my life?”

“It’s a new varietal David put on the menu.” He inspected her half-drained glass. “I’ll order a few bottles for the wine cellar.”

“You have a wine cellar?” She gaped at him over the lip of her goblet. “What else is stashed in that mansion of yours? A bowling alley? Olympic-sized swimming pool? Jimmy Hoffa’s body?”

He leaned down and brushed his mouth against her ear. “Keep the last item on the down low. I don’t need Geraldo Rivera showing up. Again.”

She snipped her chuckle short as an unfamiliar couple approached them. The man extended his hand to Jack and the two exchanged a friendly shake before Jack made the necessary introductions. As luck would have it, David and Leah Holbreight were the owners of the Floating Cork. Jane wasted no time submitting her glowing review of their establishment and the exceptionally delicious glass of vino she was currently guzzling like there was no tomorrow.

Leah beamed. “Isn’t that pinot out of this world? I usually leave David in charge of the wine purchasing, but I knew we had to carry this one the second I sampled it on our Napa trip.”

David heaved an exaggerated sigh. “In other words, she threatened me with permanent banishment to the doghouse if I didn’t give in to her demand. Bossy woman.”

Leah pinched her husband hard enough to earn his yelp. Rubbing his side, he anted up a wink. “See what I have to endure? Sometimes I question if being her arm candy is worth the abuse.” 

“Please forgive my husband. He suffers from an incurable case of drama-queen-itis.”

His laugh boisterous, David hauled his wife against him and smooched her on the lips before giving her a good goosing.

Jane shifted her focus to Jack and caught his sparkling gaze. A smile passed between them at the couple’s antics. Ten-to-one he wasn’t experiencing a similar wistfulness to the one blossoming in her chest.  No way was he looking at his friends as a sterling example of true relationship goals.

Sadly, it was exactly what she was doing. She wanted a lifetime of teasing, affection, and public groping with Jack. She wanted the kind of comfortableness that came from years of waking up next to each other. Of knowing they were in it for the long haul.

And it was pathetic as hell. Because none of that was in their future. She needed to get it through her thick skull once and for all and stop torturing herself like this, for fuck’s sake.

Gripping the fragile stem of her wineglass like her life depended on testing its snap resistance, she tore her scrutiny from Jack. Leah was eyeing her expectantly. Aw crap, the woman must have asked her something. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“How long have you and Jack been seeing each other?”

David coughed loudly into his fist. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. She suffers from an incurable case of nosiness.”

“Oh, hush. Anymore out of you, and you will be fighting Angel for space in her doggie den.” The betraying twitch of her lips destroyed any chance of Leah’s glare being taken seriously.

The couple’s good-natured sniping at each other awarded Jane a moment to fabricate a response that would appear casual enough—hopefully—because the truth was she had no damn idea if she and Jack were seeing each other, at least in the traditional sense. They were certainly fulfilling their daily quota of energetic rounds of Hide the Salami. Probably not what Leah was referring to. Sometimes it was better to stick with the non-pervy side of the story. Shit, who would have thought she’d take that high road? “Actually, we’ve known each other for a while. My brother introduced us.”

“Trig is the groom-to-be,” Jack added. “Jane and I are both standing up in the wedding, hence why we decided to collaborate on this party.”

“Hm, as you might recall, David and I first met each other at a wedding. I was the maid of honor and he was the best man.” The twinkle in Leah’s eyes could only be described as crafty. “And look at us, eighteen glorious years later.”

Jack shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, his expression the living definition of get-me-the-fuck-outta-here-before-they-fit-me-with-a-ball-and-chain. If that wasn’t glaring evidence that he wasn’t envisioning monogrammed china and bath towels for them, nothing was.

His aversion to commitment wasn’t a startling newsflash. Hell, once upon a time she’d felt the same way. Maybe even more so than him. That’s what made this whole situation an epic case of ironic fuckery.

She gulped a hefty swallow of wine, hoping it’d dissolve the bitter aftertaste lingering in her mouth. No such luck.

One of the restaurant’s wait staff joined them, momentarily pulling David’s and Leah’s attention to other matters. Desperate to ignore the awkward silence stretching between her and Jack, Jane preoccupied herself with loading up on an obscene amount of bacon-wrapped shrimp from another passing server. If she stuffed her yap-hole she’d be less likely to say something she’d regret. Plus, hello, shrimp and bacon. Turning her back on either of those would be sacrilegious.

Midway through chowing down her second skewer, the Holbreights excused themselves to contend with the kitchen drama their employee had hunted them down over. Leah hugged Jack before gifting Jane with a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. Hopefully, we’ll have an excuse for hosting another party for you two soon.” With a wink and her not so subtle parting shot hovering in the air like a cheery version of the Jaws theme song, she pivoted and followed her husband toward the building’s back entrance.

Jane couldn’t bring herself to peek in Jack’s direction and confirm his valiant struggle with the invisible yet wholly terrifying noose Leah had just slipped around his neck. Instead, she crammed the remaining shrimp into her mouth and took out her miserable frustration on the helpless morsel.

“Jane...”

Jack’s somber tone brooked no good for whatever was about to come out of his pie hole. She drained her wine and choked down her resulting wheeze. Eyes watering, she held out her empty goblet to him. “Don’t know about you, but I could use another drink.”

Twin frown lines indenting the center of his brow, he slid his focus from the glass in her hand and up to her face. He locked gazes with her for an endless moment before freeing her of the stemware and striding to the tiki bar.

Sucking in a shaky breath, she smoothed the front of her cocktail dress. Someone’s arm banded around her waist and she reflexively jerked her elbow into their gut. A grunt floated past her ear and she cocked her head in time to catch Trig’s wince. “Well, that’s what you get for sneaking up on me, blockhead.”

“Guess I should be grateful you didn’t aim a few inches lower.”

She frowned as he dropped his arm back to his side. “You better not be bailing early from your own party.”

“No. Why would you even think that?”

“I assumed you were giving me a goodbye hug just now.”

“What? Can't I hug you for any other reason? Maybe I simply wanted to show you how much I love you.”

She gave him the stink eye. “Okay, what do you really want?”

His expression turned sheepish. “Any chance you can let dad park the motorhome at your place? He and mom are due to get in sometime tomorrow.”

“They’re bringing the hippy-mobile? How the hell is it still drivable?”

He shrugged. “Personally, I’m leaning toward some alternative fuel source involving rust and weed fumes.”

“Sounds logical.”

“So can you help me out? We’re at maximum capacity at the house with Rissa’s cousins coming in on Friday for the bachelorette party.”

“I guess a few days won’t kill me. Unless mom foists one of her kale smoothies on me again. In which case, my days are numbered.” She shuddered.

“I owe you big time.” Trig’s attention drifted to the bar. “Moving on to other matters...Where is this going between you and Jack?”

She gaped at him. “Wow, that came out of left field.”

“Not really. It’s the second thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Why? Looking to protect my innocent virtue?” She snorted at the ridiculous notion. Like that ship hadn’t sailed out of the harbor the instant she popped out of the womb.

Scuffing the grass with the toe of his dress shoe, Trig rubbed his nape. “I know I’m supposed to stay out of your love life. For everyone’s good, I won’t this time. We all barely survived the fallout from your last go-round with Jack.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she adopted her best Dirty Harry squint. “And naturally you presume it’s going to happen again. Thanks for the vote of confidence, douche waffle.”

“Not at all, but I worry you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt.”

“No, parachuting into a pit of crocodiles would be setting myself up for a world of hurt. I have this situation fully under control.” She bristled at the softness in his gaze. “What?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him when your guard is down and you think no one is paying attention. It’s a split second of panic-inducing clarity. I experienced the same damn thing when I was in denial about my feelings for Rissa.”

She shuttled a quick glance in Jack’s direction. There were still a couple of people ahead of him in line. He’d be busy for at least another minute or two. “Fine, I might have feelings for Jack. I’ll survive them. Everything worked out better than good for you and Marissa, so it’s entirely possible I won’t go down in flames.”

“Only Jack isn’t Marissa.” Concern shadowed Trig’s features. “I’m not trying to be an asshole and pessimist. Trust me, I’d love to see you two stick this out. In a weird way, you’re both made for each other. And I genuinely believe he has feelings for you too. But you need to understand he has some major issues that have fucked him up.”

“I know. He told me about Ava and the pregnancy.”

Trig blinked. “He did?”

“Yes. How does it feel not knowing everything?” she couldn’t resist pointing out obnoxiously. He damn well deserved it for putting her on the spot, even if he was being a caring brother, the dipshit.

“Okay, I’ll admit I’m surprised. He doesn’t share his past with many people.” Trig’s focused roved over her shoulder. Appearing perplexed as ever, he rubbed his jaw. “Just be careful, all right? I know you want the whole world to think you’re a badass freak who eats men’s hearts for dinner with a side of fava beans and a nice Chianti, but you’re not immune to hurt.”

She poked a finger in the middle of his chest. “Repeat that last blasphemy and I’ll beat you with a sock full of pennies.”

“What are you two arguing about now?”

She jumped at the unexpectedness of Jack’s voice behind her. Damn it, the man should come with a warning bell—for infinite reasons. “Absolutely nothing.” She speared her brother with a covert visual death threat as Jack passed her wine glass over. If Trig spilled the beans on their conversation he’d be fish food. 

Jack frowned. “Really? Because it looked tense between you two for a second there.”

“Probably because she suggested beating me with a sock stuffed with pennies.”

“Make it quarters.” She injected an extra dose of sweet menace into the warning.

Judging from Trig’s grimace, he’d gotten the message loud and clear. “I made a comment about subscribing her to the kale of the month club. Apparently, she didn’t find it funny.”

“They have a kale of the month club?” Jack grimaced. “Are they trying to torture potential customers?”

Relief shooting through her, she transmitted her silent gratitude to Trig for his quick improvisation and he bobbed his head briefly in acknowledgment. Shit, now she felt guilty about the creative murder scenarios she’d been plotting in her head. Not that she wouldn’t use them if he repeated a word of their conversation to Jack.

There was no way in hell she was putting her heart on the chopping block. And that’s exactly what would happen if Jack discovered the true scope of her feelings for him. Because the thing guaranteed to doom a person faster than letting the dreaded soul mate reference slip in the baking aisle? The infinitely more horrific L word.

Which left her with only one option.

She’d never, never, never, never, ever use that damnable word.

~*~

Shortly before nine, the newlyweds-to-be tracked her and Jack down at the inside bar. Jane gave Marissa the side-eye as her best friend began lovingly stroking her hair. “I don’t know if you’re sloshed or hitting on me. Either way, I’m a little turned on right now.” She shrugged in response to Jack’s raised eyebrow. “I’m easy and she has an amazing rack.”

Marissa giggled like it was the damn funniest thing she’d ever heard. Yep, definitely three sheets to the wind. She confirmed it by wobbling on her feet as she pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a lil’ drunk.” Her stage whisper was loud enough it easily carried over the border to Canada. Not an exaggeration, considering their Canuck neighbors were directly across the river. “I swear I only had two glasses.”

“Were they those glasses that fit an entire bottle in them?” She shot Jack a mock glare. “Looks like someone’s been holding out on me.”

Trig hooked the strap of Marissa’s purse on his left shoulder while he steadied her with his free hand. “She’s been on a crazy detox diet this week preparing for the wedding. Likely why the wine went straight to her head.”

“Hopefully it’s not about to go straight to your leather upholstery,” Jane countered. She and Jack abandoned their seats to escort the guests of honor to the exit. After accepting Trig’s smooch on the cheek, she squeezed his arm, momentarily preempting him from ducking through the doorway. “Take care of her, okay? Aspirin and right to bed. And make sure to hold her hair back if she does get sick. There’s nothing grosser than barf hair.”

Her expression overloaded with sappiness, Marissa snuggled into Trig’s chest. “Don’t worry. I’m in good hands with my Snookie Pookie.”

Jane grimaced. “I take it back. That pet name is way grosser than barf hair.” Despite her wisecrack, she anxiously watched Trig help Marissa navigate the parking lot. Once the pair settled inside her brother’s SUV, Jane glanced at Jack and noticed him eyeing her with a hint of bemusement. She coughed gruffly. “Yes, I’m being a total mama bear. Marissa was my responsibility long before my brother took over the job. Some habits are tough to break.”

“I’m not judging. Truth be told, it’s sweet how you fuss over your friend.”

“It’s my one redeeming quality and the surefire way I’ve managed to sucker her and Sid into keeping me around all these years.”

His grin giving her an obnoxious case of the swoons, he stooped and kissed her soundly. Several long, delicious moments later, he let her up for air and licked his lips. “I’m going to say a quick goodbye to David and remind him about that case of wine he owes me, then how about we get out of here?”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.” Deciding to indulge in some fresh air while she waited for him, she stepped outside and made her way to his Maserati. Leaning her hip against the passenger door, she blinked up at the canopy of stars. Maybe it was her own lingering buzz, but everything about the night felt...perfect.

Which naturally meant some majorly cataclysmic shit was about to hit, like an asteroid falling on top of her or something. She darted her gaze to the building. As if it would stand a chance against a motherfucking asteroid. Where was Bruce Willis when you needed him?

A few minutes later, Jack ducked through the doorway and she gusted a sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t be flattened like a pancake all by her lonesome. He hauled short next to her and frowned. “Sorry, I should have given you the keys.”

“Probably better that you didn’t.”

The corner of his delectable mouth curving upward, he opened her door. “Why? Would have taken her for a joyride?”

“Not wise to put these ideas in my head.” Shivering as his husky laugh washed over her, she lowered onto the passenger seat and clicked her seatbelt into place. One of these days—say in a decade or twenty—she’d be immune to the Jack Brewster Sex Appeal Syndrome. 

He slid behind the wheel. “Hope you weren’t too bored waiting for me.”

“Nah. It’s all good. I passed the time entertaining myself with potential asteroid collisions. You know, the usual.” She slipped her high heels off and wiggled her toes. Holy hell, talk about bliss. “So what’s the backstory with you and David? Has he been your wine pimp forever or what?”

“I’ll have to pass that moniker on to him.” Chuckling, he started up the engine and left it idling on a low purr. “Yeah, we go way back. Used to work together at Sabatini’s a few decades ago.”

“Get out.” She scooched slightly sideways onto her hip. As a double bonus, the repositioning offered a better angle for ogling him. “Sabi’s is one of my all-time favorite restaurants. How long did you work there?”

“Through high school and shortly after. For a good long while, I was sure I’d end up going into the restaurant biz like David.”

“What changed your mind?” It took an embarrassing amount of seconds to intuit the cause for the pointed look he sent her. Her buzz had obviously killed more brain cells than she’d previously assumed. “Okay, now you have to tell me your craziest gigolo story. Only fair after keeping me in the dark for eighteen months.”

He winged an inscrutable stare her way and she thumped her fist on the divider. “Don’t hold out on me, you stingy bastard!”

“You really want to know?”

Not rolling her eyes took herculean effort. “Well, duh.”

His silence stretched into infinity. Just when she was debating checking to see if he’d fallen into a spontaneous coma or something, he cleared his throat. “There was this one time. Fucking hotter than hell.”

She already wanted to scratch the bitch’s eyes out. “Go on.”

He propped his wrist on the steering wheel and gazed out the windshield, his rapt expression agitating the ridiculous jealousy bubbling inside her. “She was blindfolded. I tied her to a hotel bed and fucked her with a frozen glass dildo.”

Hm, the scenario sounded suspiciously familiar. She narrowed her eyes. “I was being serious.”

He veered his focus to her and the heat in his eyes burned her alive. “Me too. Now, do you want me to continue or not?”

She tried for a casual shrug. It fell woefully short of hitting the mark. On the plus side, she hadn’t resorted to begging. Yet. “If you wish.”

“Oh, I most definitely do.” The silkiness in his voice did nothing to assuage the sudden tingling in her clit. “I didn’t think anything could compare to watching the pleasure building on her face while I worked her over with that dildo but I was dead wrong. It was a million times better when I eased my cock inside her. Like sinking balls-deep into wet velvet. Fucking heaven.”

She swallowed past the lust congealing in her throat. “You do have a way with words, Brewster.”

“Want to hear more?”

“I’ll kill you if you shut up now.”

Stroking his thumb along his bottom lip, he continued devouring her with his bedroom eyes. “Where was I?”

“I believe balls-deep in wet pussy.”

Impossible to say for sure, but she swore the heat in his gaze intensified a thousand degrees. “Ah, yes. Bathing my dick like you wouldn’t believe. Not surprising, since she came her brains out on the dildo.”

“Or maybe she really, really likes your cock,” she suggested breathlessly. The needy ache between her legs too much to bear, she pressed her knees together. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to help.

The wickedness riding his features confirmed he’d keyed in on her delicate situation and was enjoying it immensely. “That’s my favorite part—how it seems she can’t fucking get enough of it. I bet if I hadn’t tied her to the bed I would have had her nail marks tattooed on my ass.”

She squirmed at the wanton images swarming in her noggin. At the rate things were escalating, her head was one X-rated snapshot away from being officially labeled the filthiest place on earth.  “You’re killing me.”

“And myself. Take off your panties.”

Nearly jumping out of her skin at his low, seductive growl, she quickly complied with his demand. She didn’t give a hot damn if someone walked into the parking lot and spotted them.

Who was she kidding? Her inner exhibitionist kinda hoped someone would.

Deliberately leaving the hem of her dress hiked midway up her thigh, she reclined in her seat and twirled her G-string’s elastic band between her fingertips. “Your move.”

Without saying a word, he leaned across the console and freed the panties from her grasp. She sighed as he tucked the scrap of fabric into his trousers pocket. “Uh, not exactly what I meant.”

“Price you pay for omitting the specifics.” His gaze made a slow, sultry sweep of her torso and settled on her inner thigh. “You’re fucking soaked for me right now, aren’t you?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t my panties give that info away?”

“Yes. But I want to hear you say it.”

Beyond her how the man managed to make bossiness sexy and decadent. Regardless, his request was one she had zero intention of refusing. Inching forward in her seat until her face nearly touched his, she tiptoed her fingers across the starched collar of his pristine white Oxford. “I’m completely...thoroughly...drenched...,” ducking her head, she grazed her teeth over his bristled jaw, “for you.”

“I’m going to require some proof, of course.” He inched her skirt higher, his knuckles brushing her skin and stirring up a whole new batch of unending tingles. Convinced she’d pass out from breathless need, she waited for him to fully slip his hand between her legs. At last, he did. The bold caress of his fingers prodded a moan from her and she arched against his palm as his mouth claimed hers. Hard to say which of them was more greedy and demanding with the kiss. What she did know with absolute certainty? If Jack wasn’t buried inside her within the next two seconds, she’d lose her damn mind.

Without breaking their wild, ravenous kiss, she pushed him toward his seat. The instant his back connected with the lumbar rest, she climbed over the center divider and straddled his lap. Despite the cramped limitations of her position, there was no missing the hard tent pole indenting his fly and nudging her inner thigh with delicious promise. She reached between them and wrestled with his zipper, and then his briefs, a blissful sigh rolling from her as she wrapped her fingers around the hot, thick length of him.

Reluctantly pulling her mouth from his, she panted against his lips. “Just so you know, she really, really, really likes your cock.”

“That third really makes all the difference.”

“Really does.” She dove for his tongue again, sucking it between her teeth with lusty abandon. She undulated on top of him, the small, rocking swivels of her hips rubbing her pussy along his smooth, velvety cap. Who needed a glass dildo, or her trusty Orgasmenator, for that matter? Neither held a candle to him.

His hands coasted to her butt and squeezed both cheeks. One palm journeyed toward the crease of her ass.  The teasing flicker of his finger a second later proved more temptation than she could withstand. She thrust back against him wantonly and groaned as he took her up on the blatant invitation by easing the digit inside her ass. The hum of satisfaction rumbling through his chest was nearly enough provocation to trigger her orgasm. Somehow she kept it leashed. A damn miracle, especially when he began stroking her with seductive deliberation. She whimpered.

“So fucking tight, baby.” He massaged her butt cheek, the motion a persuasive accompaniment to the exploration of his wicked finger. “I’m going to keep playing with your ass while you ride me.”

He damn well better, or the amount of begging she’d likely resort to would be downright embarrassing. Twining her arms around his neck, she raised herself upward and settled on the tip of his shaft. His grip tightened on her butt, stalling her. “No condom. Fuck.”

“Trust me, that’s my plan. So get that condom on pronto, mister.”

“I mean I didn’t bring any with me.” His expression apologetic and frustrated, he scooted her back a smidgeon. “Momentarily hold all sexy thoughts and pray the car ferry hasn’t left the dock yet.”

She slid her palms down the front of his shirt and fidgeted with his top button. Chewing her bottom lip, she hiked her gaze to his and expelled a slow breath. “Or...we could take advantage of me being on the pill.”

He stared at her mutely. Even with his silence, not impossible to interpret his doubts. Considering his history with his ex, she didn’t blame him in the least. “I’ve been on them forever because I’m paranoid about potential condom breakage. Have never missed a single day. But I’ll take one right now, in front of you, if it’ll put your mind at rest.”

“I don’t think you’re lying to me.”

She plucked restlessly at his lapel before flattening the cotton beneath her fingertips. “I know you don’t. But I do understand your hesitation. So...” Leaning to the side, she snagged her purse from where it was wedged partially underneath the passenger seat. A quick rifle in the front pocket produced the compact containing her birth control. Holding his gaze, she popped the tiny pill and swallowed it dry.

“That wasn’t necessary.”

Yes, it was. After tossing her bag onto the passenger seat, she wiggled onto his lap again and strolled her fingers along his nape.

Ridiculous as it was, she’d never felt this nervous. Probably because she’d also never had bareback sex before. The nerves overtaking her had nothing to do with the actual act though. Rather, the meaning behind it. She’d never trusted a man enough to throw caution to the wind and forgo a condom. If they’d suggested it—and plenty of them had—a big fat fuck no was quick on the way.

No baffling mystery why she was willing to break her standing rule with Jack. She’d already given him her heart. Removing this last barrier between them should be a cakewalk in comparison.

Only it wasn’t. It was a huge, scary step.

“Jane...”

Shit. He had that tone again. The one that spelled an uncomfortable talk on the horizon. “Let’s not overthink this, okay?” The plea was as much for her benefit as his. Curling the ends of his hair around her fingers, she planted a hard, desperate kiss square on his mouth. His groan leaked free an instant before his tongue tangled with hers in a slick collision of combustible hunger.

And this was why sex would always be her go-to problem solver. It truly was the answer to most of life’s calamities. Clutching that certainty with every fiber of her being, she grazed her pussy over the head of his cock. Jack's grip tightened on her ass again, only this time he held her right in place as he thrust his hips, lodging inside her with a firm, tunneling stroke.

Nothing could have prepared her for being skin-to-skin with him, their gazes locked and the interior of the vehicle overrun with their ragged breaths. Jack had gone motionless, and she felt every hot, throbbing inch of him. Intensely.

The slightly dazed look in his eyes hinting that he was experiencing a similar reaction to this entirely new facet to their lovemaking, he pumped his hips again, slower this time. The slick sound that followed was lewd, crude, and hotter than hell. But it didn’t compare to the sheer carnality that flared in his eyes. “So fucking good.”

His heated declaration was all the motivation she needed to begin moving on top of him. Her kneecaps would probably have no feeling left in them after this was over, and the stitching on his steering wheel would be permanently tattooed into her spine. Totally worth it.

One hand twisting her hair, the other making good on his promise of playing with her ass, he set about completely enslaving her to his wicked mastery of her body. She ground down on his cock. On that devilish finger. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Thankfully he heeded her strangled entreaty. He countered her desperate gyrations, each stroke spiraling her closer to the wall of rapture. His mouth slid to her throat, anteing up the stakes. He sucked her flesh between his teeth and an uncontrolled shiver shimmered through her. She hugged him tighter. He bounced her hard on his cock, the fierce determination in his thrusts erasing any lingering doubt that he’d be satisfied with anything less than the thorough annihilation of her senses. “Tell me again.”

“W-what?” She was having a devil of a time chasing down her breath.

“How much you love my cock.”

Good grief, how could he have any question? The insane pleasure she experienced every time they were together eclipsed all lovers before him. Those past yokels might as well not exist. They were figments of her imagination. A series of one hit wonders who’d had no hope of making it to the big leagues. The only man for her was the one right here, showering her with more ecstasy than she knew what to do with. No amount of denying it or hiding from it would change the stubborn truth homesteading her heart.

“Tell me, Jane.” His fingers clenched on her hips, his gaze an inescapable magnetic draw.

Pitted against the Jack Brewster Sex Appeal Syndrome, no mere mortal woman stood a damn chance. With one hard, determined stroke, he sent her flying into the mother of Holy Os. White hot bliss frying her nerve endings, she freed the words in a messy tumble of harsh gasps. “I do, I absolutely do. I fucking love you.”

Awareness pierced the fog in her brain a nanosecond too late. Even the sizzling glow of her orgasm failed to slow the icy rush of panic and horror riding her pulse like a runaway bobsled—one destined for a hellacious crash. All because she’d stupidly voiced the damnable word she was supposed to never, never, never, ever use.

There was only one thing left to say at this point.

I’m fucked.

And not in the fun way.

Aw hell.