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I can’t answer this time.
His lips hover next to my ear, the soft puff of air causing a shiver. “Because I don’t think you want that.”
It’s a natural thing, the way my body responds to him, and he knows it.
I know it.
Like in the hotel room yesterday. Like last night by the lake.
Like now. He can feel it…
I also know all I have to do is tell him no, to get away, and he would.
I think.
But I can’t. I just bite my lip, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. It’s all I can do not to turn around and face him. If I do, it’s over. It’s so, so over.
The thought of us colliding, of giving in to him again like I did over a year ago causes my sex to ache viciously, my breasts peaking against the fabric of my sports bra. “Jake,” I rasp. A torrent of memories rush in:
Him behind me on the bed, giving me hard, punishing thrusts.
The feel of his hand as it fisted in my hair. As it gently tugged my head back while he asked me to come for him.
He leans closer, his lips now hovering at the bend of my neck. “Yes?” I just have to say the word. Give him permission.
I swallow hard. “Get dressed.”
It’s the hardest two words I’ve ever had to say. I had to rip them out from the root and fling them desperately in his direction.
He backs up a hair, his arm falling. “Last chance...” The humor has returned. He knows how hard that was for me, and yet he laughs.
“Jake,” I plead for the third time, almost bark.
He heads for the bathroom. “You’re no fun, you know that?”
“I’m not here for fun,” I remind him, and as I come back down from his voodoo high, I grunt with frustration and fling a vulgar gesture at his back.
It’s like I only have two settings with this man—turned on or irritated as hell.
And it doesn’t help that he knows it.
He pulls the door closed behind him and I take a second to shake the tension away. I pace the room. Stop at the window. Pace again. I really deserve a medal for this—how I’ve managed to be good despite all his nakedness.
It’s not over yet, muffin, my thoughts retort, but I tell them to buzz off.
Scattered and needing something else to think about, I kneel to look through my suitcase for something to wear. Casual, Ruby said. But isn’t that subjective? Casual to her could be a sundress. It is a Sunday benefit brunch.
Great. I have no idea what to wear.
“Scarlett?” Jake says expectantly.
I pivot in his direction to see his head peeking out of the bathroom.
His eyes snap down to my hand. “Nice choice.”
I fling the red panties—the red panties he doesn’t remember—back into the suitcase. “Yes?”
“I was asking you something. I don’t think you heard me.”
