Page 78 of A Dark Fall
I smile and run my hand over his ridged stomach, across the lettering that makes me want to eradicate all his exes from his memory. No—not all of them. The one he cared about enough to etch permanently into his skin. I itch to ask him about it. About her. I turn my head to stare up at him, and my stomach somersaults. He looks breathtaking in this light. Just fucked. His mouth tilts into a lazy half-smile.
“Seriously though, what did you mean by it?” I ask.
Something flits over his eyes, and I think he’s not going to answer. Make some excuse up about him not being interesting or that he was joking. But then he takes a long, deep breath and speaks.
“I guess I’m saying that ... well, I’m not good enough for you—I’m aware of that.” He says it with the same sincere tone he used to tell me I was perfect. I move to sit up, to disagree, to tell him not to be ridiculous, but he stills me with his eyes. “So, when I’m with you, I try to be better, I guess. That’s all I meant.”
It’s a beautiful sentiment, I suppose, but it still makes me frown. “What makes you think you’re not good enough for me?” I try not to let my voice do that high, accusatory thing it does sometimes.
He cups my cheek. “I don’t think it; I know it. You deserve better.”
I sit up taller then. “Jake, stop saying that. I—”
“I’m not the person you think I am, okay?” he says, cutting me off. He seems to think better of his tone and reaches out to take my hand, pulling me closer.
I frown, confused. “What does that even mean? Who is it I think you are? Is this you now? Here?”
He nods. “Yeah, fuck, when I’m with you, this is who I want to be. But I’m still not a nice guy, Alex. I meant that when I said it.”
There’s something like a warning in his eyes. Not warning me away from the subject, but away from him. I consider this for a moment then lean in to press my mouth to his. His lips are wet and soft, and the kiss turns heavy far quicker than I expect.
“I thought we already established I don’t want a nice guy,” I whisper against his mouth.
He lets out a small, needy groan. “That’s because you don’t know what’s good for you.” His voice is low, licked with need.
Something unfurls inside me, and I hook my leg over his thighs and sit up so I’m straddling him. His head falls back against the headboard to look up at me, arousal clear in his eyes.
“You’regood for me, Jake,” I say, my eyes fixed on his. When I grind my hips into him, he lets out a delicious groan. So, I do it again. “You’re so good for me.”
“Fuck, baby ...” His hands slide around my hips, holding me in place as he rocks upward, his cock thickening against my thigh. He drops his mouth to my nipple and sucks one into his mouth as I continue to move on top of him.
I think I could come from this—from the feel of muscle between my legs and the wet heat of his mouth sucking at my skin.
One day, I’ll know all of Jake’s secrets. Every last one of them. But it won’t change how goodthisis; how goodheis for me. It can’t. It’s not possible. I won’t let it.
I awake to the smell of toast and fresh coffee and the distinctly chilly absence of him. Jake’s digital clock by the bed tells me it’s 6:20 a.m. I should move, but it feels beyond me. I’m comfortable and warm, and the sheets around me smell like him. When I stretch my body out to shake off the sleep, I’m sore. A delicious, Jake-inflicted sore I can more than live with. With a soft groan, I slide over and out of the bed.
It takes me a moment to figure out how to turn his modern shower on, but once I do, I step under the spray with a sigh, closing my eyes in bliss under its power. When I open them to retrieve some bodywash, Jake is standing in the doorframe, watching me with a riveted expression on his face. My instinct is to cover myself, but I resist, letting his gaze travel over my body as I lather the bodywash into my skin.
“Need any help in there?” he asks, the corner of his mouth twitching.
I smile. “I’ve done this before. I think I can manage.”
He nods and proceeds to watch me. He’s wearing dark gray boxers, and the sight of his bare chest and thick thighs is distracting. As I glance down his body, I see the unmistakable sign of interest between his legs.
“Ask me to come in there with you,” he says, low.
My voice is shaky as my breathing starts to spiral. “Come in here with me.”
His smile is slow and sexy as he slides his boxers down his legs and steps gracefully into the stall. He moves closer, tipping his head under the water, then closes the distance between us so I’m pressed between him and the cool marble.
“Fuck, I like you wet,” he says, bringing his mouth to the side of my neck as I slide my hands around his body to his perfect behind.
“I like you wet too,” I whisper, and he pulls back to smile. Then he kisses me slow and messy, the water running between our mouths and bodies noisily.
“You know, normally, when I’m in here, I’m imagining this is happening. Now, it is.”
He’s thought about this? About me in here with him? The idea makes me ridiculously hot, ridiculously turned on. He presses his lips to mine again, sucking the water from my mouth.