Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3) - Talia Hibbert Page 0,67

Jacob. The part where it seemed like pulling teeth for him made it extra genuine.

“Yes, I was trying to distract you.”

“Ah.”

He ran a hand through the soft mess of his hair. Eve’s own fingers twitched, just a little, in her lap. “I expect it’s thrown you. The sudden nickname thing.”

“Oh, it has,” she said. Into a pool of pleasure.

“But we are official friends, now. You should’ve known I might get carried away.”

Truthfully, she murmured, “I didn’t think anything could carry Jacob Wayne away.”

He met her gaze. “Apparently, you can.”

She tried not to choke on her rocketing heart or her sudden, horny feelings.

“Usually, I try to compliment you,” he said, “and it comes out like an insult. So. When I accidentally say something true, something that matches what’s in my head . . .” He lifted his chin and looked at her steadily, as if daring her to argue. “I’m not going to take it back.”

Slightly breathless, she murmured, “I don’t think you should. Take it back, I mean. You should be as . . . yourself as you can.”

“It takes practice, around people I haven’t known very long. But with you it’s coming along nicely.”

She swallowed hard. “Practice makes perfect. Do it again.”

“No.”

“I’ll wait.” A smile spread across her face. “Hey—does this mean I get to give you a nickname?”

He gave her a withering look. “Absolutely not.”

“But, Mushroom!”

“Piss off, Eve.”

“But—my dear, sweet Raspberry!”

“Just for that,” he said, and then he snagged the box of Jaffa Cakes and ate the last one.

She released a gasp of genuine horror. “Jacob!”

“That’s better.”

“You bastard.”

“You were warned, woman.”

“Don’t you mean Sunshine?”

He swallowed the last bite and grinned. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Just as quick, the smile was replaced by a frown as he shifted and looked down at the bed. “For fuck’s sake, these springs. What . . .” He trailed off as he rummaged among the sofa cushions. “Oh. I think I’m sitting on something.”

And then he rummaged some more and produced a giant purple dildo that may or may not have belonged to Eve.

Chapter Fourteen

If there was one thing Jacob hadn’t seen coming, it was to find himself holding a glittery, silicon dick before the day was out. But he should’ve known to expect the unexpected around Eve.

Still, the idea that he could’ve predicted this was . . . he wanted to think impossible or maybe even horrifying, but all his brain threw up was fascinating. He gripped the sturdy length—Christ, what was this thing, twelve inches?—and held it up to the moonlight, watching it sparkle. Because of course, Eve’s dildo sparkled.

And now that he’d actually thought the phrase Eve’s dildo, every filthy desire he’d crammed into his mental Don’t Think About It cupboard simultaneously kicked down the door and burst free.

“Oh my God,” she said, her eyes wide and her hands pressed to her cheeks. He imagined those cheeks were hot and blushing under her palms, and then he imagined a similar heat flushing her entire body as she lay back on this bed—this fucking bed—and eased off her underwear and rubbed the head of this toy over her pussy. Would she do it under the covers or on top? Would she slick this big thing up first? With lube, or with her mouth?

“Jacob,” she practically shrieked, “say something.”

He dragged his gaze away from the toy and back to her. “Does it vibrate?”

“What? I think I’ve broken you. You’re broken. Admit it.” She sounded genuinely worried. Looked it, too. She’d sunk her teeth into the plump pillow of her lower lip, and Jacob, still drowning beneath the murky waters of sudden lust, wanted to know if she bit her lip just like that when she came.

“I am so sorry,” she was saying. “I have no idea how I—um, I completely forgot to—Jacob, you should probably put that down.” But her voice wavered on the last word, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

He met her gaze. Arched an eyebrow. Asked calmly, “Why?” And was gratified when she sucked on that bottom lip rather than answering.

He didn’t want to let this thing go. He couldn’t, not right now. He was . . . studying it. Every plastic ridge and vein. Did she feel that, when it was inside her? Did she care about the finer details, or was she just chasing the thick stretch, the snug fullness a toy like this must give? And she’d never told him if it vibrated or not. He hadn’t heard anything through their