CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jack
I have no idea how I managed it, but it seems that Sarah’s giving me another chance. Our late lunch was…interesting, to say the least, especially with her friend, Clint. He was fun and served as a bit of an icebreaker, and I finally feel like Sarah and I fell back to the Sarah and Jack we were before…well, before the initial “incident.”
As we walk up to the new apartment where she’s lived since returning to Saratoga, she flashes me a sexy smirk over her shoulder. Then turning the key in the lock, Sarah opens her door. “You ready, then?”
“Ready for wh—” My words are cut off as she tugs my wrist, pulling us inside and kicking the door closed behind us. I’m suddenly pressed back against the wall of the entryway, her palms braced on my chest.
Rising on her toes, she holds my gaze with lips so close to mine I can feel her hot breath wash against my skin. “Ready for this.” Pressing a kiss to my lips, she then toys gently with my bottom lip, and a soft moan escapes me.
Leaning away slightly, she whispers, “Was that a moan?” Without waiting for my answer, she trails soft kisses along the side of my neck and nips at my earlobe. I swear, if she gets me much harder, my dick will bust through these jeans.
Gripping her waist, I slide my thumbs beneath her filmy blouse to skim her hipbones. I steer her against the opposite wall, caging her in, and she presses herself into my touch, her mouth finding mine again instantly. With my body flush against hers, I angle my head, deepening the kiss and sweeping my tongue inside.
I taste the slightest hint of chocolate, and when her tongue darts against my own, a deep rumble of a moan is pulled from me. Her hands are everywhere; fingers thread through my hair, palms sweep over my jawline to rasp against my scruff and glide down to cup my ass. I embrace the rise and fall of her breasts against my chest and the fact she’s experiencing the same reaction as I am to our kiss.
Trailing a line of kisses down her throat, I gently nip at the rapidly beating pulse, and I murmur against her hot skin, “How firm are you on this whole over-the-clothes-only rule?”
A breathless laugh escapes her. “There’s a chance I could be persuaded.”
Backing away, I glide my palms down to cup the weight of her breasts. The way she arches into my touch, as her heavy-lidded gaze locks with mine, sends a rush of arousal through me. Lowering my head, I place my mouth over the outline of a hardened nipple, tonguing it through the layers of the thin fabric of her blouse and bra. Sarah’s hands move to my head, her fingers sinking into my hair, and tightening slightly as if to prevent me from moving away.
Sucking hard, I reach between her thighs, rubbing her over the soft denim of her jeans to create friction. Her moans are the most erotic sound, pushing me to the brink of painful arousal. Unfastening her jeans, I slip my hand inside, over the thin fabric of her panties. I continue to draw circles over her clit, my cock hardening further at the feel of the damp fabric at my fingertips.
Sarah’s body arches, hips moving of their own accord. Her eyes are closed, lips parted, and her breathing is ragged. “Jack…” She’s so fucking close, and I’d give anything to slide my tongue deep inside her.
Fuck that. I’d give anything to sink deep inside her and have her come all over my cock.
When I slip my hand inside her panties, about to delve into her, thinking I’ll get to watch this beautiful woman fall apart in my arms, there’s a loud knocking at the door.
We both stare in disbelief in the direction of said door, and our agitated, breathless voices speak in unison.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
* * *
I’d sell a goddamn kidney for an opportunity to finish what Sarah and I started in that entryway.
Instead, I’m braced behind the kitchen counter in her apartment, hiding a near crippling hard-on while Maggie and Ry sit on the couch, exchanging humorous glances and making small talk.
“So Sarah spilled something on her shirt, huh?” Maggie asks innocently before furrowing her brow in faux concern. “Only right here?” She circles a finger, gesturing to her left breast. “So interesting.”
“Mags,” Ry admonishes playfully. “Quit with the sexy gestures.” Turning back to me with a shit-eating grin, he adds, “Let’s leave the sex talk to the kids. Isn’t that right, cupcake?”
Instead of answering, I call out down the hallway to where Sarah’s changing her shirt. “Sunshine! Please hurry.”
It’s bad enough I have to put up with Ry, but when he and Maggie get together, it’s like Frick and Frack multiplied exponentially.
Both Maggie and Ry’s eyebrows rise to nearly meet their hairline before turning to one another, mouthing, “Sunshine?”
I ignore them. I’ve got bigger fish to fry, as becomes evident when my best friend rises from the couch. He strolls over to the counter where I’ve since placed the flower box I’d given Sarah earlier. The corner of the box is slightly dented from being dropped in our haste to go at each other before the rude and untimely interruption.
Ry tosses me a curious look before opening the box, promptly frowning down at the blue flowers. “What the hell is this?” Then his gaze is back on me, worry edging into it. “Please tell me you didn’t choose this god-awful flower for our centerpieces.”
I roll my eyes in exasperation. “Relax, would you? No way in hell would I choose flowers named blue balls for your wedding centerpieces. Give me some credit.”
He visibly relaxes. “Thank God.”
“Wait a minute,” Maggie begins slowly. “That flower is actually named—”
“Blue balls,” I finish for her.
“And you gave it to…” Ry trails off expectantly. Like he doesn’t already know the answer. I mean, come on. We’re standing in Sarah’s place.
“Sarah.” My tone is dull.
I need a stiff drink. Speaking of stiff, I really need to do something about this…
Maggie and Ry exchange another one of those looks before dissolving into laughter. Attempting to speak between their schoolgirl giggling, Maggie asks, “You gave the blue balls to her just before we—”
“Gave you guys blue balls,” Ry assists when she falters, holding her sides. He braces a hand on the kitchen counter separating the living room and kitchen, laughing so hard he’s nearly wheezing.
Crossing my arms, I stare at the pair. “So glad you’re enjoying our discomfort.”
And I call these people my friends.