Page 14 of Fight from the Heart

“I said, no.” His arm twitches, and I slowly sit upright. His head moves from side to side on the pillow and then stops as though he’s been slapped. His breathing is heightened. His chest rises and lowers exaggeratedly. The sheets have lowered to his waist, revealing the fine lines of his abs. A dim illumination glows through the large window wall as the moon is in the sky somewhere.

“No,” Jacob groans again, and I hesitantly reach out a hand, resting it on his shoulder.

Saying his name, I gently jiggle him. His skin is hot to the touch, and for a second, I worry he’s caught what I had. I’ll feel terrible if he gets the flu from me and sharing this bed. Then his entire body jolts again and I press harder at him.

“Jacob, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

His body stills. “Angel,” he whispers. His forehead heavily furrows.

I repeat his name, and his hand snaps upward. My throat is cupped, and I’m flipped, pressing back into the mattress. Jacob’s body is instantly over mine, the weight of him heavy enough to take my breath. He isn’t squeezing my throat, just holding it as he stares down at my face, but his eyes are wild. He doesn’t see me, and I whisper his name.

Lifting a shaky hand for his face, I intend to cup his cheek and help him focus, but his free hand shoots outward, capturing my wrist and pinning it to the bed near my head. He continues to breathe heavily, his chest pressing against mine with each heave. His nostrils flare as we stare at one another.

“Lilac,” he whispers, and tears fill my eyes for some reason. I’m not afraid. He won’t hurt me, but something’s hurting him. The fear and anger in those midnight eyes darkens of all stars. His heart hammers against my breast while he’s covering me. One of his legs is between mine, but he slowly shifts so the other meets the first. On instinct, mine spread to accommodate him, and the sheets tangle between our legs. He shifts his body lower, adjusting between my thighs. Gently, he releases my throat and slides his hand to my chest, flattening his palm over my racing heart.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he whispers. “I’d never hurt you, Lilac. Never.” His voice strains as he stares at his hand just above my breast, concentrating on the rapid beating. He speaks as if begging me to understand, begging me to accept that he would never cause me harm.

“I know you wouldn’t.” His quick reflexes and sudden reaction were a response to whatever was haunting his dreams.

“What happened?” I question.

He shakes his head. “No. I’m not going there with you.” He’s slipping away from me, retreating into his head. He’ll move off me any second and pretend this didn’t happen, which might be for the best. I’m hyperaware that he’s hard and resting against my core. Everything pulses—that spot between my thighs, the blood in my veins, my heart behind my ribs.

His eyes focus on my lips, which I nervously lick.

“I want to kiss you.” His voice is that low rasp that sends a thrill up my middle. He must still be dreaming. Perhaps, he’s not fully awake and doesn’t realize it’s me, although he’s called me both Lilac and angel.

“Jacob, it’s Pam,” I tell him as if he isn’t seeing me. His brows pinch.

“Yes, Lilac. My angel.” The hand over my heart slides back up my neck and jumps to my forehead, swiping back my hair, watching his fingers touch the side of my face. His attention returns to my lips. “Kiss me.”

“I’ve been sick.” Of all the desires I’ve ever had, I’ve never wanted his mouth so much as I do now, but the rational side of me says he doesn’t know it’s me under him. Logic dictates I decline his suggestion.

Then Jacob does something I’d never expect. He curls his hips so his thick erection presses harder against me, and my legs spread wider while my head slightly tips back. I chew my lip to fight a needy groan. My head warns don’t do this while my body says, I want, I want.

“I need to know that you’re real.” He lowers his mouth for my neck. The spot his fingers curled around moments ago is pressed by tender lips. His mouth opens as he sucks at my skin, followed by a tongue that hesitantly licks me before another sip. Then he nips me and I’m on fire. His body moves down mine as the kisses grow in intensity, peppering my throat before dropping to my chest. He tugs the collar of his too-large-for-me tee aside and continues to kiss me, each one urgent, hungry even.

This is crazy, but I can’t seem to deny him. Lower and lower and lower, he moves down my body, tugging the material to expose a breast. He stills as he looks at the swollen globe, and one of his legs shifts. His head pops up to look at me.

“You removed my sweats.”

“I was too warm.” I should be telling him to stop. I should be warning him not to do this to me. My heart cannot take the passion brewing in him. He needs to recognize it’s me and not someone else. However, my body overrules my thoughts. So I do nothing when Jacob hastily moves the sheets, and his upper body settles between my thighs as he’s moved his entire body lower. It’s a wonder I’m still breathing as my heart hammers faster than ever. But more importantly, a part of me drips with desire for him, and I’m not wearing underwear. I assumed the length of his T-shirt would cover me. Jacob would never know the difference, but my hot core is against his firm abs, skin to skin.

“Jacob,” I warn, hoping the sound of my voice will remind him once more it’s me because this cannot be happening to me. Cannot be happening between us. I reach for the side of his head, curling my fingertips against his short hair.

“Must kiss you,” he mutters, not asking but demanding. He shifts once more, and his mouth latches onto me in a place long ignored. I nearly spring from the bed. My back arches. My head tips back. My eyes roll as his tongue laps across folds ready for his attention. Sensitive skin that have never experienced the eagerness in which this man is taking me. The flat of his tongue swipes upward, curling over my clit. The tip dips inward, and I moan like a hussy on steroids because nothing has ever felt this good. His mouth closes over the tender nub and sucks hard before delving forward once more, splitting me open and sweeping through me like I’m a succulent peach.

My head rolls on the pillow. My hips thrust upward. His hands clamp my thighs down to the bed as he devours me like a starving man.

“Jacob,” I cry out as a rippling begins at my toes and races upward. This will be like nothing I’ve had before. His tongue moves faster with my cry. His fingertips dig harder into my thighs. My hips unabashedly rock against his mouth, and I break. In sweet bliss, I call out his name, electrified by the pleasure. My skin prickles. The fine hairs stand on end. From my toes to my fingertips a spark burrows through me, and I’m so alive at this moment. I’m more aware of my body than I’ve ever been as the orgasm draws onward.

Finally, I can’t take any more. I collapse back to the pillow, and my head catches up to my body’s betrayal. “Enough,” I state, pressing at Jacob’s head. We need to stop this. I shouldn’t have given in to him. He’ll break me if we continue because it’s not just my body that wants him but my heart.

Oh, my God. We just . . . and he did . . . and we can never be the same again.

Slowly lifting his body, Jacob gazes up at me, the evidence of what he did to me coating his lips, but I quickly look away, mortified by my behavior.

“Thank you,” he whispers and crawls from the bed. Disappearing behind the bookcase, I hear the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. Rolling to my side, I wonder what he’s thanking me for and how I’ll recover from what he just did to my body.