Pierce My Heart (Women of Willowbrook Book 1) (25 page)

There’s no outside world.

No worries of anything but where he begins and I end.

Eventually he pulls away only to come back with another quick lip touch.

He drops his forehead to mine and mutters, “Don’t think I’ll ever get sick of that mouth, Annie.”

“I hope not.”

He rears back, surprise and amusement on his face.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” I ask meekly.

When he nods, I close my eyes and groan.

Haven't I embarrassed myself enough?

“I like that you think that, babe, no need to work yourself up.”

My eyes shoot open. “I am
not
working myself up,” I snap.

He just cocks his eyebrow and gives me a look.

“What
ever
,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

He laughs and leans forward to lay a kiss on my forehead.

“I gotta get going, sweetheart. It’s late,” he says as he drops his hands and starts to move away.

I immediately feel myself deflate.

I mean, I didn’t exactly expect anything to happen tonight, but I don’t want him to just leave.

Ignoring the increased speed of my heart at the thought, I jump down from the counter and follow him to the living room where he’s grabbing his boots.

“You don’t have to go,” I say and he looks at me with a blank expression. “It’s late, we’ve been drinking, and I don’t feel comfortable with you driving home. Not that I know how far you live, it could be two minutes away and you’d be totally fine, but I still wouldn’t want you to drive after drinking. Drinking and driving is bad,” I inform him like I'm a guest speaker at a high school.

When he doesn't say anything, but instead stands back up with his face still blank, I rattle on.

“And you wouldn’t have to sleep with me.” My eyes get wide. “I don’t mean
sleep
with me, I mean sleep in the same bed as me. You could sleep on the couch, but you’re probably too tall so I could sleep on the couch. Or the floor, though that wouldn’t be comfortable and it wouldn’t make any sense since I’ve got two couches—” I'm muttering, totally lost in my own world, only stopping because Jake cups his hand over my mouth, causing my eyes to go a little squinty when they slice to him. “Raur ayking fis a hadit,” I say into his hand. What I mean is,
“You’re making this a habit.”

He shakes his head in amusement and drops his hand to my hip. “I’d love to stay, babe. But you’re not sleeping on the couch, and definitely not the floor. Neither am I.”

My face scrunches in confusion. “You’re not?”

“Nope.”

“Then where? I don’t have a spare bedroom or a fold out couch.”

His eyes light with fire and my body reacts with a head-to-toe tingle.

“In bed. With you.”

Oh boy.

SoVin
 

I escape to the bedroom with Jake laughing behind me as he shuts down
my
house.

Normally I would’ve given lip, but I need to get changed and under the covers before he has a chance to walk in.

Leaving the door cracked so it doesn’t look like I’m locking him out (not that it would stop him), I move to my dresser and dig through my drawers, looking for something to wear to bed.

Foregoing my normal sleep shorts, I grab a pair of yoga pants to go with my tank and start to strip, nearly toppling over when I think I hear him outside my door.

I’m under the covers with a makeup removing wipe in my hands when he walks in. And even with the sheet pulled up to my waist and my tank covering more than my shirt had, I still felt entirely exposed to him. The look he gives me when he sees me does nothing to curb that feeling.

When he starts to shuck his clothes, I close my eyes and start scrubbing at my face, hiding the blush that hit my cheeks.  It isn’t until I feel the bed dip under his weight that I build up the courage to peek.

His eyes are pointed towards the floor, but his lips are twitching.

I figure I’ve hid long enough so I toss the wipe in the bin on the other side of my nightstand and scooch down the bed with my back to him.

Next thing I know, I find myself hauled from the edge where I’m clinging to the middle, and into Jake’s arms.

“Relax, Anna, we’re just sleeping. So sleep,” he bosses, seemingly unaffected by our close proximity.

Then again, he’s probably been in this position with
plenty
of girls and a lot less clothing.

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I nod my affirmative but keep myself still.

He chuckles, giving my neck a kiss before he backs away a bit and settles in himself.

Part of me is disappointed he’d disengaged, but a larger part of me is relieved he isn’t a sleep snuggler. I’d tried it in the past and it
sucked
.

It was insanely hot, some body part
always
fell asleep, and when you wanted to move you had to move like you were the weight of a feather instead of your actual weight, which in turn made you
not
want to move and making things that much worse.

So, no thank you.

After a few minutes the effects of the day and night (and the bottle of wine) start to hit. My body relaxes and I snuggle in, my last thought before I fall under—other than the happiness I feel at going to sleep with Jake beside me—being that the noisy alarm is the last thing I want to wake him, or me, up with.

And I can’t remember if I turned it off.

*              *              *

Holy crap, it’s hot.

Seriously, I feel like I’m sweating my ta-ta’s off.

I crack my eyelids, peering out to see why there’s a sudden rise in temperature when I feel that reason move.

My eyes shoot open as I take stock of my surroundings.

I’m in bed in my usual position, half on my tummy and half on my side with one leg hitched and the other one straight, one arm cocked and under my cheek while the other is laid flat, fingers pointing to the toes of my straightened leg.

That’s all normal.

What
isn’t
normal is the weight across my back or pushed up against my side. Especially the something
hard
that’s poking into my hip.

That pulls a (thankfully) silent gasp from me.

I pull my hand from under my cheek and slowly reach out to hit the little circle on my phone to check the time. 8:12 a.m. I also see that the little clock icon indicating the alarm isn’t there, so I’m at least saved from that, but now I’m stuck at a crossroad.

Do I stay and try not to move while I wait for him to wake up? Or, do I try to slide out of bed and then tiptoe out without waking him?

I weighed my options for a moment and, even though I’ll most likely fail, I decide to try to slide and tiptoe out.

I manage to creep a couple inches before I feel the hand at my back slide around to my front and I’m hauled back (yet again) into Jake's front. One arm is wrapped just below my breasts with my bottom snug to his groin, bringing me into close contact with what I’d felt jabbing my hip.

If I thought it was large and in charge then, I have no words for it now.

Jake's head moves, snuggling into the crook of my neck, and his scratchy stubble sends shivers up my spine.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” I reply, my voice thick with something else.

Jake isn’t one to miss much and he certainly doesn’t miss that.

The arm that had been trapped beneath my neck moved, his bicep bulging as he brings his hand up, curling it around my chin and turning my head towards him. When my neck twists far enough, I see his head descend, his eyes heated and focused on my lips. My own close with anticipation.

When his lips meet mine they’re soft and gentle and a slow build begins, but when I feel the swipe of his tongue along the seam of my lips it’s like a switch has been thrown.

I don’t know if it was the promise of his kisses beforehand, the fact that it’d been
so
long since I’d been intimate with a man and we’d just slept together (the tease of him next to me all night), or if it’s just him, but I go into attack mode.

I open my mouth and before he can even make a move, my tongue dives in and tangles with his, leading, tasting, and taking my fill. I manage to roll my body, dislodging his arm in the process. My hand immediately finds purchase on his chest and I stroke up, my fingers scratching through the smattering of hair there before tangling in the hair on his head. I hear his groan of satisfaction before he thrusts his tongue into my mouth at the same time he yanks my leg up and settles it on his hip, leaving me open to feel the hardness of him pushing against me in an
insanely
hot way. And the little moans leaving my throat let him know exactly how much I’m enjoying it.

Minutes (but what feels like hours) later he yanks his head back, both of us panting.

“Fuck, Annie,” he grinds out, and this time
his
voice is thick with something else, though I don’t have to guess with what.

I feel it.

My only response is a needy whimper that explicitly tells him I’m not a fan of him pulling back.

It earns me a slow, sexy smile.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “You told me it’s been a while and I need you to know I’m not rushing you. But
I
need to know when you want me to pull back. I don’t want you getting lost in all that’s us and then regretting it the next day. Fuck no. I need you to
want
and
be ready
for what’s gonna happen, get me?” he demands more than asks.

My body—already warm from all the kissing—gets even warmer and my face goes soft.

I know from the tone of his voice and the tender and intense look he's giving me that he’s serious. Though, I could’ve been mistaking the intense look since I rubbed my crotch against him accidently.

Oops.

My fingers let go of the death grip I have on his hair and move to his cheek before I look in his eyes and start to speak.

“Thank you, for caring,” I tell him, watching my thumb do a couple swipes on the apple of his cheek before I look back at him. “I don’t remember feeling like this for anyone,
ever.
” His eyes flare at my words, but I keep going. “And while I know I could definitely lose myself with you in
anything
we’re doing, and probably will, I also know myself enough that if I was uncomfortable I’d make it known. This is something I’d
never
regret. Even if it happened once. If I suck at it and it never happens again, I’d cherish the fact that I got to share something so intimate with you. So please,
please
don’t think for a second I’d regret
anything
with you. It’s just
not
true,” I finish on a trembling whisper.

He watches me for a moment, searching my face for any untruth. And I know when he finds whatever he’s looking for when he drops his forehead to mine and lays a gentle kiss on my lips.

Even with all things serious, my body was still amped up and that small kiss is all it took to remind me. My hips have a mind of their own and make a small jerk against him. He pulls his head away, but only far enough that I can see his eyes. I watch them catch fire right before they close and his mouth catches mine. His hand that’d been resting on my hip drops down to my ass, grabbing hold to pull me tighter to him before he grinds against me.

I am all too happy to follow along and start rolling my hips while I open my mouth for him. This goes on for a while before he finally moves his hand up and circles my tender nipple with his thumb.

God, it feels
so
good.

I pull my head back and let out a moan, arching my back to get more of his touch; he’s nice enough to oblige. His mouth moves down my neck, sucking, nipping, and kissing his way while his hand slides down the front of my tank to cup my bare breast, pinching before rolling the tight peak between his thumb and forefinger.

That
feels even better.

At this point, I have about zero control over the noises escaping my throat. “
God,
Jake,” I moan out.

He pulls his head back and up, his eyes hooded while he stares down at me. “Tell me what you want, Annie.”

I was flushed, and at his request the flush turns into a blush and I only hesitate for a moment before answering, “Your fingers. I want your fingers.”

He grins devilishly before capturing my mouth.

His hand, unfortunately, leaves my breast to pull my leg off his hip. He rolls us enough to settle me on my back all the while his tongue dances slowly with mine. There are no preliminaries, no slow movements, and no second-guessing. His hand moves under my yoga pants, under my panties and hits home.

Holy fuck
.

I whimper as his finger circles me.

Jake groans, pushing himself up to look down at me. “Fuck, Annie. You’re
soaked
.”

All I can do is bite my lip as another strangled moan slides out.

Instead of coming back for more kisses, Jake stays in his push-up position, eyes on my face while his finger glides through my wetness. It isn't long before I give up trying to look at him and just surrender to the feelings coursing through me as he circles and teases my entrance. I'm so lost in everything it takes me a minute before I realize Jake has pulled his hand free. When I focus my eyes on him, I gasp. He has the finger that he used to play with me in his mouth, sucking it clean.

Mother of
God
.

“Arms up, sweetheart,” he instructs once he pulls his finger free.

I didn’t have time to argue (or even be confused). My arms fly up when he starts to pull my tank off me, but the second it clears my arms I automatically curl them around my tummy in attempts to hide.

Jake catches this.

His eyes flash in an unhappy way before he wipes the look off his face and a grin replaces it as he dips his head. Next thing I know, I feel his tongue twirl lightly around my hard nipple and a long, deep moan leaves my throat.

“That’s it, Anna. Let me hear you,” Jake rasps out between licks and deep sucks.

I couldn’t have refused him even if I wanted to, I had no control. Nada.  

Zip.

Zero.

Zilch.

While his mouth nips, licks, and suckles one breast, he has his hand and fingers engaged with the other, tweaking and rolling. My own hands tingle with the need to touch him, and I lose the fight as they move on a journey of their own; one running through his hair, occasionally pulling, and the other attempting to break the world record for most scratches on one's back.

Whoops.

I give this about a half a second before I move on, and how I move on is to burrow my head deeper in the pillow as Jake slides his hand back into my panties, this time his finger burying deep inside me and moving.

“Oh my
God
,” I moan.

“Feel it, Annie.”

“Wanna feel you, Jake,” I blurt out.

This made him pause.

When I catch his eyes, I see the fire burning brighter.

He definitely likes that idea.

“Touch me then,” he almost growls, anxious for my touch.

Now it's my turn to pause, some of the lust clears as I realize what I need to do.

My eyes flick down to his black boxer-briefs and the prominent bulge tenting them, and my already flush face turns crimson, as my eyes widen watching it bob once, then twice.