When it comes time to launch the fundraiser, I invite Jake over to watch it go live.

Honestly, I would've invited him over anyway. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him, and between his schedule and a couple of my clients losing their minds, we haven't really been able to spend any time together.

Tonight, I've made sure things are as perfect as they can be. Shane offered to take Riley and Julie to the dollar theater. After dinner at Gracie's Place, of course. That should buy us a few hours.

Because this is supposed to be a dinner date and I like Jake too much to subject him to my cooking, I swung by Gracie's myself earlier and grabbed a couple of meals to go. They'll have to be re-heated, but they're still going to be a lot more edible than anything I could have whipped up.

The bottle of wine I bought looks out of place next to the white take-out trays, but I don't think Jake will mind too much. Especially since we're going to be staring at my laptop screen for a while—and then hopefully not worried about the dining aesthetic.

Hopefully. It's very possible I could be so bad at sex that Jake will wish he could go back to focusing on how the wine clashes with the trays, but fingers, toes, and everything else crossed that that isn’t the case.

His truck pulls into my driveway right at six. A little early for a date, but I didn't want Riley out too late, and we need to catch some prime-time traffic for the fundraiser.

I check myself in the toaster—because I don't have enough time to jog by the bathroom mirror for the tenth time tonight—and go to let him in, feeling the flutter of my pulse in my throat.

Jake's not that large of a man. He's lean, average height. But when I open the door and see him standing there in a crisp blazer and tight blue jeans, he seems to fill the whole door frame with his presence. My fingers itch to touch him, and when I draw in a breath and catch the scent of his aftershave, every rational thought just flies out of my head.

Thoughts like “you're supposed to be launching a fundraiser tonight” or “you should really take things slow.” All gone. Right out the window.

"I wasn't sure what kind of flower would be appropriate for a launch date, so I got a mix," Jake says, holding up a bouquet I honestly didn't even notice before now.

"I can't believe you don't know the official launch date flower is the Peruvian lily," I say with a smile. Jake grins, and offers the bouquet to me. "They're really lovely. Come on in, I'll just go get a vase."

Or more likely an old goblet from Medieval Times. I don't think I own a vase. But the bouquet looks just as nice—if not nicer—in a big, silver cup, and I set it on the kitchen island where it can catch some sun from the window.

"Dinner smells amazing," Jake says. When he laughs, I know he's caught sight of the trays. "That'd be why."

"I wasn't going to subject you to my cooking. I can fix the types of foods a teen girl will eat, but not much more."

"I don't think my taste buds are too developed beyond wherever 'teen girl' is," Jake admits with a grin, "but I'm never going to complain about Gracie's."

I pop open the wine and pour us both a glass before taking a seat on the other side of the table. With my laptop open, I flip over to the tab where I've already filled out all of the information for the fundraising site. I have Jake look it over carefully, making sure all the details are there. We went out of our way to provide as much as possible, including pictures from the last session.

"It looks perfect to me," he says. "I honestly can't think of anything else to add."

"Well, if you want to do the honors?"

My eyes meet Jake's as he lets out a breath. He's nervous, and that restless energy transfers over to me, though I do my best to stay calm. This is his deal. He needs my support right now.

Jake's fingers skim over the trackpad and he clicks on the "Submit" button. When the confirmation page loads, I let out a breath of my own.

"How long before they approve it?" he asks.

"Not long, usually. The last client I posted a fundraiser for had theirs approved within two hours."

His gaze flicks to me, heat smoldering behind his blue eyes. My skin prickles with awareness, a flush racing up my neck, but I don't look away, and I'm rewarded with the sexy tilt of his lips as he smirks.

"So you're going to find ways to keep me from refreshing the page every five minutes, right?"

There's a challenge in his eyes, and I lick my suddenly dry lips. "That's the plan. Let's start with dinner though."

I got us both Salisbury steak made with Eric's award-winning brown gravy. Probably not the best choice for a date, since we're both so preoccupied with eating for a while that we forget we're supposed to be talking.

Eventually we pull ourselves away from our plates, and the wine helps conversation along. We talk about work, about Riley and Julie, about how badly Travis wants my daughter to try out for the football team next year—and how I'm probably going to end up letting her, because it's not like I can stop her. At this point, I'm not sure I even want to.

We polish off the full bottle between us by the time we're done with dinner, and everything's suddenly a lot easier to manage. The world’s all bright and funny in that fuzzy sort of way things are when you catch a buzz. Or at least when I catch one. Even the fact that the fundraiser hasn't been approved yet isn't much cause for concern.

Jake gets up to throw away his tray and put his glass in the dishwasher, and I catch myself just staring at his ass. He must have worn those jeans on purpose. Either that or red wine makes me a lot hornier than I remember.

When he turns around, I'm greeted to the prominent sight of his bulge. My mouth waters as I remember what he felt like, what he tasted like. I never imagined I'd be that into giving a blowjob. Oh how wrong I was.

"See something you like?" he asks, and my gaze roves up his abdomen, over his chest where his arms are crossed, and finally to his amused face. When our eyes finally meet, Jake laughs, then puts a hand over his mouth. "Jesus, okay. Yeah, there's definitely a reason normal people don't talk like pornstars."

"I thought it was pretty convincing," I say with a grin, pushing out from the table. I stand on slightly tipsy legs, but manage to make it the few steps needed to get to Jake. "And the answer's yes."

He makes a sound in the back of his throat that could be a muffled groan. It shoots a hot bolt of desire straight through me, and suddenly the loose pants I chose to wear aren't feeling so loose anymore.

"I'd say you should buy me dinner first, but…"

"Already got it covered," I murmur, stopping so close to him our bodies are almost touching.

I don't know who leans in first. Maybe we both do. It doesn't matter, because the moment our lips meet is pure bliss. He tastes like wine and Jake and everything I want in this moment, and as his hands come up to frame my face, I can feel myself getting more and more tipsy.

I kiss him back, a lot more confident now. Something about getting a guy off with your mouth makes you feel a lot better about your skill. And the way he seems to melt into me, a soft sigh catching in his throat as our tongues meet, I know I must be on the right track.

"Wanna move over to the bedroom?" I murmur against his lips, taking that moment to catch the breath he stole.

His eyes open, clear and blue. There's a question in them, and I already know what it is before he asks it.

"Are you sure?"

I also already know the answer. I lift my hands from his chest and slide my palms along the sides of his neck, feeling him shiver beneath my touch. Once I reach the strong curve of his jaw, I brush my thumb over his lips before replacing it with mine. The kiss is slow, sensual, our mouths melding together in a gentle rhythm that gives as much as it takes.

When I pull back, there's a smile on my lips. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"If you change your mind…"

"I won't," I whisper, knowing it's true.

I want this. I want whatever's going to happen tonight. I want Jake.

He doesn't hesitate, his lips crashing to mine once more. I can feel the heat of his hands blazing a trail over my clothing as he roams my back, my shoulders, my arms, and my chest. When he rolls his hips against mine, my cock starts to throb to the rhythm of my frantic pulse.

Some part of me wants this to last just as it is now. I haven't been so turned on by making out with someone since I was a teenager. But the rest of me wants to cross this threshold with him; to experience everything this could be between us.

It's that side of me that wins out as I break from the kiss and take his hand, pulling him up the stairs. We stumble a little, too focused on each other and not on where we're going. At one point we forget what we were doing mid-climb and just fall against the wall together, my hands gripping his ass, pulling him to me.

Eventually we make it to my room though, and I shut the door out of habit. The instant it closes, I go for the buttons of my shirt. Jake kicks out of his shoes and works on his blazer, and then he's on me again, pushing me back against the door. He may be smaller than me, but there's a strength in him that I easily surrender to as he pins my arms above my head, painting a trail along my jaw with his lips and tongue.

When he goes for my shirt, I use my newly freed hands to pull his sweater up from his jeans, my blunted nails raking over his abdomen in the process. He moans, and I turn my head to catch his mouth with mine, losing every thought beyond the fact that I need to keep touching him.

It's torture when we're forced to break apart to get rid of his sweater and my shirt, but the reward of warm, bare skin is more than worth it. I greedily explore everything that's been uncovered, my fingers tracing the light definition of his muscles. A groan catches in my throat as he does the same to me, touching me with such reverence that I forget to feel self-conscious.

"God, this is unfair," he exclaims, and I draw back to look at him quizzically.

I follow his gaze and find he's staring at my chest. Some of the doubt starts to creep in, but it goes away when the pads of his fingers skim over my chest hair.

"Problem?" I ask, amusement filling me even in the heat of the moment.

"I have a weakness for gingers," he murmurs, his fingers moving lower.

Even as he says it, he has me at his mercy, his fingers moving over the line of hair that traces a path from my navel downward. I shudder, helpless under his touch, and I can't bring myself to even move again until his fingers hook into my pants and he pulls me to him for another needy kiss.

My hands move down to grip his ass, and even as I enjoy the kiss, his lips and tongue responding so eagerly to mine, his teeth nipping with just enough pressure to make me gasp, I already know I’m past the point of being content with just making out.

Nerves try to rise in me, but I drop to my knees before they can have any impact, unzipping Jake’s fly and pulling his jeans down. My hands move over his thighs and I kiss them, feeling the slight tickle of hair against my lips before I do away with his underwear, too.

This time when I take him into my mouth, I’m more confident. Not a pro by any stretch of the imagination, but it doesn’t take me much time to ramp up.

Jake moans, his hands fisting in my hair, and I pull his hips toward me to encourage him to thrust. He does so in short, shallow motions—enough so that I can take him deeper, but not so much that he threatens to choke me.

This time, with his clothing out of the way, I can pay special attention to his balls, too. I always liked having mine played with, and Jake gasps when I cup them, caressing the smooth flesh with my fingers as I slowly take him deeper.

I draw my head back, letting his glistening cock slip from my mouth, and angle myself so I can tongue his sac, feeling a smug sort of satisfaction when Jake moans and his thighs quake.

I don’t have a lot of time to explore, though. He pulls me up to him, kissing me hard. Then without hesitation, he pushes me back on the bed and starts tugging my pants and boxers down.

My hands grip the sheets when he takes me into his mouth, and I can feel the head of my cock pressing against the back of his throat. He pulls back, gives me a few sure strokes, then concentrates on the head, already knowing how much it drives me crazy to have him flick that one spot under the head with his tongue.

He’s so good at it that I know it wouldn’t take me long to come this way, and I don’t really want that. This time. I want… I don’t know what I want, honestly, and the thought of asking takes me so far out of the moment that Jake’s gaze casts up to me while he’s still sucking my cock.

“I want…” Jesus. It can’t be that hard, can it? “I want more. I want to…”

The only phrase that keeps playing through my mind is “go all the way,” but then I’m stuck thinking of some teens parked at the edge of a cliff, going at it. Not really the most romantic picture, and I draw a hand over my body self-consciously.

Jake seems to understand whatever it is I’m asking for, though, because he releases my cock and climbs over me, his arms holding him up on the bed.

“You’re sure?”

It’s the second time he’s asked that, and I’m torn between appreciating it and just wanting to shut him up. I opt for a bit of both, nodding before I kiss him.

“How do we…? I mean, is there some sort of rule for who’s on top or who’s on bottom? I’ve never…” My nervousness turns into agitation. “Obviously I’ve never done this before, but…”

Jake’s lips brush mine, his mouth lingering for a few moments before he speaks. “It might be easier for you to top this time. But we can switch off in the future, if you want to. That way you can decide what you like best.”

You can do that? Switch off? I should have guessed that—it’s stupid to think men just fall into these rigid roles when they’re together and never break from them—but it opens up a world of possibility for me.

Future possibility. Tonight, I should probably stick with something I know how to do.

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” I murmur.

Jake grins, but his eyes darken with desire. “Grab some lube and a condom. I’ll help you.”

He moves to the side, and I go to fetch both. I tear open the condom and hand the lube to Jake, watching as he squirts some out on his fingers and moves his arm behind him, rubbing the slick liquid over his hole. He keeps this up, pushing one finger in a bit, then squirts some into his palm and strokes me, lubing up my cock in the process.

As I watch him, Jake rolls over onto his back and settles so I can see his ass, his thighs falling apart. “Go slow at first. When you feel resistance, stop and let me adjust a little.”

He looks at my cock, and I wonder if I’m bigger than what he’s used to. The fact that I could hurt him has definitely crossed my mind, but now it’s at the forefront. I try my best to ignore it, getting into position at the edge of the bed, taking my cock in hand. But when I do start to breach his tight hole, it’s with a caution that I think is agonizing for us both.

“You don’t have to go quite that slow,” he says with a breathless chuckle.

His hands reach out, his fingers press against my thighs, and he guides me, pulling me toward him. My cock presses deeper into him, and I moan at how snug he fits around me, and even more so when he seems to deliberately clench his muscles to squeeze me.

With Jake’s encouragement, I push in further. And further. Inch by inch, I spread him open, his body adjusting to me. And when my balls finally touch his skin, I let out a shuddering breath.

“Come here,” Jake says, his eyes blazing, his voice a soft growl.

I lean over him, my hands on the mattress as he greets me with a hungry kiss. My body takes over then, because even though I’m the world’s most uncoordinated man, I manage to move while kissing him, my hips pulling back, then rolling forward.

Jake moans into my mouth, and I become bolder. My strokes are longer. Harder. First just a few inches deep, then nearly all the way, my balls slapping against him with every thrust.

“Yes,” he whispers, “harder.”

I give him what he wants, pushing myself up and gripping his hips to hold him in place as I fuck him. Sweat beads on my brow, my breath comes in ragged bursts, and I know I’m getting close.

My grunts and groans must give me away, because Jake locks his legs around me, and wraps his hand around his own dick, pumping furiously as I keep pounding into him. His moans rise in volume and pitch, driving me on, and I do everything in my power to hold out until he comes.

When his body clenches around me and he arches back against the bed, I go all out, fucking him with more vigor than I think I’ve ever had in my life, thrusting deep inside of him as he rides out his orgasm. Until I feel my own muscles tighten, the telltale signs of climax washing over me.

I pull back for one last thrust, burying myself inside of him as I come, an almost inhuman growl of a sound tearing from me in the heat of the moment.

I’m shaking afterward, my skin’s covered with a light sheen of sweat, and I can’t seem to catch my breath. But God, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more sated, and the half-lidded look on Jake’s face just makes everything that much better.

“You’d better not ask me to grade that,” he teases as I finally pull out and go to toss the condom.

“No need,” I say cheerfully. “I aced it.”

Jake lets out an unguarded, happy laugh, and I can’t seem to get over to him fast enough. He’s waiting for me when I climb into bed, pulling me into a tender kiss.

“Riley’ll be home soon,” I half-heartedly warn.

“But not yet,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Not yet.”

And with that settled, I go in for another languid kiss, pulling him into my arms. We stay like that, just lazily kissing and touching, until Travis is nice enough to give us a “the movie’s almost over” heads-up via text.

Even though we’re forced to go back to the real world, I know I’m going to take a piece of this night with me. I’ll think of it later tonight, and tomorrow, and every day after.

At least until we get the chance to do it again.