Page 70 of A Dark Fall

Smiling, I follow him up the curved staircase to his bedroom, which is as impressive as the lower level. The double-height windows mean he has an unobstructed view of the London skyline from his bed. Along one wall is a row of mirrored and walnut wardrobes, a matching walnut tallboy against the wall, and a low wood bed, thick curtains along the mezzanine to allow him to close out the light. The bedroom is colored in muted white and gray with thick gray carpet.

“Are you going to tell me this is where the magic happens?” I ask playfully as I turn to him. The words make me wonder exactlyhowmany women he’s brought up here. He’s a man who looks like him with a bachelor pad most guys can only dream about. Dawn from the elevator has certainly been here. Gemma from the club too. Countless others, surely.

Christ, I hate my brain.

“Hmm. Well, I could tell you that,” he says, pressing his mouth to mine, “or I could show you ...” He turns me so my back is to him again, and then his mouth is on my neck, sucking gently, biting softly, nudging the space below my ear with his nose. He inhales deep, and a ripple of goose bumps break out across the skin of my arms, the back of my neck. I close my eyes on a soft moan. “You smell incredible, baby ...”

I do? I wonder if he knows his smell drives me insane. He dips his mouth lower, and I tilt my head to the side to give him more space to cover. His mouth is warm and wet, and the sound of his mouth as it moves is delicious. My hands skim over the muscle of his thighs needily as he slides my dress up from behind.

“Alex, I kinda need to fuck you now,” he says, low.

The words light a fire inside. Yes, I need him to do that now too. My hand slips behind me, between our bodies, to graze the front of his jeans, and I feel immediately how aroused he is. It’s thrilling knowing how much he wants me. Knowing I make him like this. That I can do that to a man like him. It’s an odd, heady kind of power.

Turning around, I move to brazenly unbuckle his belt while he grabs the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it up and off. His hands come around my shoulders seeking the zip of my dress, which he tugs down. Loose, it falls from my body, allowing me to step out of it.

As soon as I do, our mouths meet in a rush, and he pulls me back toward the bed. I grip onto him to steady myself as he finishes removing his jeans, pushing them roughly down his thighs and kicking them off. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him, knees pressed into the bed on either side. His hands roam over my body and around to my back where he deftly unclasps my bra. As the straps slip down, his mouth leaves mine, and he lifts his head to stare down at them.

“I fucking love these, you know ...?” he whispers as he lowers his head to take one nipple into his mouth. He moans a raw, masculine sound as he suckles it and flicks it with his tongue, his long stubble tickling the sensitive skin around it.

I hold his head and run my fingers through his soft hair, pulling on it as he sucks more. When his fingers move between my legs, he lets go of my nipple and groans, lifting his head to look up at me.

“Fuck, baby ... Look at how wet you are already ... Is this for me?” His voice is low and filthy, and it only tightens the knot of heat between my legs. There’s no embarrassment, only desire, his words having the same effect on me as they always do. Loosening. Emboldening. He doesn’t seriously want me to answer that, does he?

He’s still looking up at me as his fingers dance close to where I need him. Soft pushes of the pads of his fingers against my underwear. God, he does.

“You know it is ...”

He smirks and reaches up to kiss me, licking into my mouth. “Tell me what you want, Alex ...” He slips his fingers inside my knickers and strokes one up the entire length of me, causing me to arch against him. My face feels so deliciously hot, my body on fire.

“Jake ... please ...” I pant against his mouth.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he says again.

“You. I just ... I want you.”

He smiles at this. A small, soft thing, which is at odds with his words and fingers. Securing a hand around my waist, he moves suddenly, flipping me onto my back on the bed. He repositions his body over mine, fingers trailing over my shoulders, collarbone, and neck as he stares down at me. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the soft dance of his fingers across my skin.

“I fantasized about this, you know?” I hear him say.

I open my eyes to look at him. “You did?”

He nods, eyes drifting away from my face to my lips, and then to my neck, where his fingers glide over the skin. “The first time I saw you, I fantasized about this.” His tone is soft. “Imagined fucking you here on my bed. I wanted you in my bed.”

I feel a deep clenching in my belly in response. “You imagined all of this while I was stitching together a potentially life-threatening knife wound? How ... kinky.”

He grins a little. “Bet you get that a lot, huh? Patients fantasizing about you.”

I laugh. “I don’t think so, no ... I think it’s just you.”

“Bullshit. Look at you.” He gestures. “If you were my doctor, I’d be fucking sick all the time.”

I giggle at that, giving him a soft shake of my head. “Your lines are something else, you know that?”

He frowns, leaning up. “Why do you always think I’m giving you a line?”

“It was a joke. Sorry.”

“It wasn’t though, was it? You always say shit like that whenever I tell you how I feel.” He sounds angry as he sits up fully. “You always think I’m bullshitting you. Why?”