Jake

As soon as Jana asks me the question, I know I’m done for. Do I want to come in?

“More than anything,” I say, lightly touching her hand with my fingertips because I can’t fucking help myself.

I really shouldn’t be touching her.

But I’m captivated by her wry laugh, her soft mouth, that sweet blush. This woman… This woman. Whose friends clearly love her enough to send her a ridiculous number of packages for some bizarre reason. She’s a woman of secret stories, and I think the parcel parade is just the tip of the iceberg.

I want to know that story. I want to touch her lips again and a hell of a lot more. I want to hear her laugh because I’m kissing her neck, and then I want to hear her sigh.

I’ve probably got a couple of hours before they’ll wonder where the hell my truck is. So when she grins and steps back, I follow her inside.

“Do you want something to drink?” She’s twisting away from me, and I let her go.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “I’m good. I want a story, remember?”

She stops and glances back at me, her hair falling across her forehead. She shoves the glossy waves out of the way. “But it’s mortifying.”

That makes me laugh out loud. “I once locked myself out of a dorm room in nothing but a pair of yellow ducky slippers. That was mortifying. Your friends suddenly deluging you with cat toys surely doesn’t top that.”

Her eyes go wide for a second, then she takes a step back as she shrugs her shoulders. “Sure, but that was in your past, when you were young and foolish. This is silliness that’s only a week old. You see the difference.”

I prowl toward her. “Come on, that didn’t earn me anything?” I gesture down my body, and her gaze tracks right along. “Yellow. Ducky. Slippers.”

“That is embarrassing,” she whispers.

I stop two feet away from her and put my hands on my hips. Her eyes linger there, too, and when she finally drags her gaze back up to meet mine, her cheeks are pink and her eyes are bright.

“You were totally naked?” Her voice catches on the word naked, and need pulls hard in my gut. Lower. Need to find out what other words she might trip on. Blush about. Get breathless over if I whisper them in her ear.

“Completely naked.”

A little flare of her eyes, and she bites her lip before asking, “What did you do?”

“I went to the bathroom and stole someone’s towel, then went down to the front desk and explained the situation.”

“What color was the towel?”

I laugh. “I don’t remember. Blue, maybe.”

She nods, an urgent little wobble that makes my dick throb. “I like this story a lot.”

“I’m glad.”

She hesitates, and the tip of her tongue darts out to swipe her lower lip. “My turn now?”

“If you’d please.”

“Wait. Did you return the towel?”

“Jana.” The word is a warning and a plea rolled together in one.

“Yes?” She tips her face up, and I realize I’ve moved closer. A lot closer.

I’m looking down at her, and fuck it. She’s right in front of me, sweet and soft, and I can’t think straight. I brush an imaginary hair off her cheek and behind the curve of her ear.

She shivers, and like a heavy bass line, need starts to thrum in my blood.

“Yes, I returned the damn towel. And maybe your story can wait,” I say gruffly, and she nods.

That’s all I need. One nod, another shiver, and I’ve got her backed up against the kitchen counter. One hand is cupping the nape of her neck and the other blindly finds the curve of her hip.

I’ve been thinking about her mouth for two weeks.

The reality is way better than any fantasy I’d gotten hard over. One featherlight brush of my mouth against hers, then her lips part on a little gasp and we slide together effortlessly.

Her lower lip, full and soft and perfect, fits right against the seam of my mouth, and there’s no way I’m resisting that temptation. I pull on the plump flesh, tasting her sweetness with a demanding roughness I wish I could contain. The sigh I get in response is worth it, though.

And then my tongue finds hers.

I’ve had a lot of first kisses in my life. Some awkward, some hot, some pretty sweet. None have been this right. None have left me with a profound need for more. Not want. Need.

I need this woman.

I want her, too, like nothing else.

She’s just as eager for this as I am. When I hoist her up and onto the counter, her legs go around my hips. I lean forward, she tips her head back. I scrape my teeth against her jaw, the curve of her neck, and she tightens her thighs.

So there’s no missing my cock, hot and hard and heavy, and now pressed right against her.

Her breath catches, then she rolls her hips, tracing the length of my dick. A groan rips out of me when she rocks against the crown, and I squeeze her closer.

“Do that again,” I demand as I tug the neck of her shirt down. My other hand slides beneath the soft cotton at the same time, finding her waist so I can help her along.

She grinds against me and I pump my hips. I don’t give a fuck if it’s shameless. We fit together.

Her bra is nice, but it’s in the way. Using my teeth, I drag the thankfully flexible fabric over the swell of her breast, freeing her nipple, and then I give her my mouth there, sucking and licking and consuming her while I work my cock against her clit until she cries out my name.

I’m generally not a stupid man, and I’ve never left a woman unsatisfied. But I really just meant to kiss her.

The fact that she’s winding up toward an orgasm takes me by surprise and makes me feel like a teenager again—but a teenager who knows what to do with a gorgeous woman in his arms.

I replace my mouth with my fingers, rolling and tugging at her nipple as I find the other one with my tongue. Her breasts are fantastic and soft against my face, and I can’t get enough of the subtle scent of her skin. I tell her as much when I kiss my way back up her neck.

“You’re so gorgeous.” I kiss her mouth when she tries to twist her head to side. “Look at me.”

She blinks slowly, her eyelids heavy over lust-glazed eyes, and I growl under my breath before kissing her again. Yes, that look. I want to see that as she comes for me.

I pull her hips harder against me as she begins to shake, and press my forehead against hers, claiming her gaze and her orgasm, too. “Are you going to come for me, Jana? Do you feel how hard you make me? How good it feels to have your legs around me? Come inside, she says. Now look at you, with your perfect tits spilling out of your top. So fucking sexy. Come on. Come for me. Rock against my cock. That’s all yours. You did that, now take it.”

With a strangled cry, she seizes in my arms, and I fall into her, holding her against me as I kiss her, hard at first, deep and intensely, then softer as she tumbles down from that high.

Together we fix her shirt, then she starts laughing, and I join her.

I don’t let her go.

“You still owe me a story,” I finally say.

“I thought we were skipping that to make out.” She blushes. “Or whatever that was.”

I groan. “That was you coming for me like an angel. Next time I want you naked.”

She traces a finger up my chest and I nip at it when it nears my mouth. Undeterred, she taps it against my lips. “Isn’t it your turn next?”

“Doesn’t need to be either/or. But first…tell me the rest of your story.”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t need me to explain, do you?”

Not really. There are only so many cat toys one can have delivered before the delivery obviously becomes the point. “Maybe I want you to.”

She gives me a long look. A searching look, like she’s wondering how much to reveal, and I’m a bit of an asshole because this isn’t really a two-way street when it comes to vulnerability. I’ve got secrets that would blow her adorable socks off. But on this point, she can trust me. And she finally nods, giving in. “Okay, so I might have told my friends that I thought you were kind of hot, and they took it upon themselves to make sure that you appeared here…often.” Her lips plump up and pull to the side, like she’s thinking about what she just said.

I’ll make that worse for her, sure. Any excuse to make her squirm. I mock-frown. “Kind of hot?”

Her eyes sparkle. “Well I didn’t know you own duck slippers. That would’ve tipped you over the top, for sure.”

“They were never mine,” I growl, and her right eyebrow curves in a high, curious arch.

“Oh…” She giggles like she gets it, they were a girl’s, and they weren’t. It doesn’t matter, because it was a lifetime ago, but I want her to know that. But before I can tell her they were part of my roommate’s costume for a rez party, she’s rubbing against me. “Too bad you don’t still have them.”

“I’m not recreating the event for you.” Except if she wanted me to, I would. I’d wear nothing but ducky slippers and a raging hard-on, and I’d find her in the bathroom and steal her towel.

“What if…” She glances to the side, and I follow her gaze. Her bedroom. “What if they were cat slippers?”