It’s been so long since I’ve been touched by another, so long since a touch has been this intimate, yet this is nothing like what I remember.
Too soon, his hand leaves my breast and travels down my middle, leading to the catch at my waist. He pops the clasp on my pants and then pulls back from kissing me.
“Maybe we should stop.” He’s leaning away from me, but I fist his T-shirt just above his heart.
“Please,” I whisper. “Don’t stop.”
Jake works at the zipper next, watching his fingers maneuver the closure before dipping his hand lower. He dives fast and deep, right into my underwear to cup me where no one has touched me in too long.
As I moan at the tenderness, his fingertips stroke over sensitive folds, damp and desperate for more.
“How long’s it been, sweet?”
Licking my lips, I meet his eyes in the darkness. “Six years.” Raspy and rough, my answer chokes a little as I fight the past and focus on the present. The year after Ian’s death, I was a mess, but Jake doesn’t need to know those details. His thick fingers quickly divert my thoughts.
“You’re wet,” he tells me as if I’m not aware of how soaked I am. “And that’s for me.”
I nod to agree. He’s turning me on. He’s the one touching me. He’s the one present. His fingers continue their magic, slipping easily over the swollen nub and entering me first with one finger and then another. Relishing the full sensation, my hips rock, drawing him deeper. I don’t want the feeling to end, but he pulls back quickly, pressing at my trigger spot. My eyes close in bliss as he rubs in circles, teasing me, toying with me, and bringing me to the brink so quickly, I break within seconds.
“Oh. My God.” I purr, curling into his hand between my legs, and groaning at the rush. I’ve never come so fast, and I need a moment to catch my breath. I don’t allow myself too long, though, as I don’t want my head catching up to what we’re doing.
Once I settle, Jake withdraws his fingers and shifts so he’s over me. He removes his shirt, pulling it over his head with one tug from the back of his neck, a sexy move mastered by men. Balancing over me, I admire the full effect of his chest before he lowers to place his warm skin against mine. He kisses me, and I’m lost again.
His kisses travel down my jaw and above my bra, where he sets his tongue in the valley exposed between my breasts. Then he moves down to my belly, sucking at my skin as he lowers. At my waist, he pauses.
“Still okay?” he asks, with his hands on the waistband of my pants. My eyes prickle for some reason, but I nod. Blinking several times, I wish away the telltale warning of tears. He’s being so . . . understanding? Considerate? Tender? I can’t think. He’s moving so slowly, taking his time to touch me. Every motion is deliberate, cautious even, and it’s so unexpected.
I don’t want to think about the past, so I fight it as my pants are removed to my boots, and then Jake makes quick work of tugging my feet free of the footwear. He stands next to the couch for a second, peering down at me in my purple bra and underwear.
“You’re so pretty, sweet.” It’s not something I often hear and definitely haven’t heard in seven years, so those damn threatening tears blur my vision. Jake hastily kicks off his boots and removes his work pants. He pulls out his wallet and fumbles within it for a second. Then he’s back over me, and I open my thighs, allowing him between them.
“Rita?” he questions, noting my water-filled eyes.
“Please,” I whisper again, my voice hoarse and low. “Don’t stop.” This isn’t about him. This is about me. I need him to continue. I need us to connect. I want to feel complete with him.
Pressing kisses to my belly again, he works my underwear down to my knees, where I wiggle them off my shins. He removes his own boxer briefs and then reaches over my thigh for the floor. Holding up a square packet, I can see what it is.
“It’s new. After Nolan’s oops in high school, we kept stock, but it’s been a while. I want to assure you this is new.” I watch the concentration of his face more than his motions