That Thing Called Love (19 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

J
ENNY
’
S
SUDDEN
MOVE
SQUISHED
their noses together as she locked that sweet mouth of hers on his upper lip. It wasn’t particularly salacious, as kisses went, but Jake’s reaction was swift and furious all the same. No one had to tell him twice to get with the program.

Hell, he took
over
the program. Fingers plunging into her silky hair, his thumbs framing her face, he tilted her head so their noses no longer pressed together, which broke her gentle suction from his lip.

Pretty mouth still pursed and her slender eyebrows pulling together above her slowly opening eyes, she made a disgruntled noise deep in her throat and went after her target once again.

So...okay. Maybe he wasn’t as in charge as he thought.

But she did retain the slight tilt he’d instigated, and inhaling through his newly liberated nostrils, Jake decided she could do whatever her little heart desired. He didn’t care as long as she remained right where she was, plastered the length of his body, heartbeat to heartbeat, mouth to mouth. Hell, he was adaptable—he raked her lower lip with his teeth, yarded it into his mouth to lightly suck and just enjoyed the subtle cherry flavor that was uniquely Jenny’s.

He was a take-charge kind of guy by nature, however, and when she pulled back and studied him through arousal-drowsy eyes as she slicked her tongue across the lip he’d so pleasurably toyed with, he wrapped his hands around her hips and hiked her up, grunting his approval when she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He walked her the few steps to the kitchen table, shoved the napkin holder and salt-and-pepper shakers out of the way and set her atop the table. Sliding his hands out from under her, he flattened his palms against the tabletop on either side of her, caging her in. Stiff-armed, he leaned in, satisfaction spearing him as he laid her back across the table like his own personal banquet. The napkin holder clattered to the floor, napkins fanning across the faux tiles.

“God,” he whispered. And rocked his mouth over hers. This time their lips were parted and lined up the way they were designed to be, and he invaded her mouth with a lithe, muscular pump of his tongue.

They both froze for an instant—then, like alcohol poured into pure hydrogen peroxide, spontaneously combusted.

Mouth avid, Jake kissed her as if he could somehow consume her whole, moving his slightly chapped lips against hers, more fiercely and ardently with every passing second. Jenny was right there with him, her delicate hands fisted in his hair with a hold that wasn’t delicate at all.

One instant he was propped above her, and the next he found himself spreading her thighs with his own and flattening her beneath the urgent press of his weight against the wooden tabletop. It wasn’t until he realized he was actively grinding the back of her head into its surface with the force of his kiss that he pushed back onto his hands.

With a soft sound of protest, Jenny maintained her grip on his head to keep him in place and arched to keep her breasts in contact with his chest. It killed him to pull their bodies apart, but he needed some distance between them. Or not only was this bound to end up very uncomfortable for her, he had his doubts the table would bear up under the action.

But damn. Breath sawing in and out of his lungs, he stared down at her.

Her lips were swollen and red from the force of his kisses and, eyeing them hungrily, he licked his own. He wanted back at them in the worst way, and his head started to automatically lower.

Then he gave it a shake and pushed off her and onto his feet. “Jesus,” he panted. “There’s gotta be a better place for this than here.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Stretching her arms overhead, she undulated against the tabletop and nearly brought him to his knees. The sexual haze slowly cleared from her dark eyes, however, and she blinked. “No, you’re right.” Her head shake unconsciously mimicked his, and she held out a hand. “Help me up.”

He hauled her off the table and straight over the shoulder he’d dipped to get under her stomach in a fireman’s lift. He surged up to his full height.

“Jake!” she protested, grabbing the back of his shirt.

He stroked a placating hand down the back of her thighs. “I know—not real romantic. But trust me, it’s the only safe option open to me right now. I can’t be face-to-face with you or you’re gonna be back on that table. Or on the floor. Or up against the nearest wall.” Shit. “They’re all starting to sound like perfectly fine options for our first time together, but I’m betting you’d enjoy a softer surface.”

He strode over to her bedroom. Opening the door, he maneuvered her over the threshold and kicked the door closed behind him. Then he strode across the tiny room and flipped her onto the bed.

She shoved up onto her elbows and knuckled her hair out of her eyes, but Jake didn’t give her time to get situated or have second thoughts. Digging a knee into the mattress, he dropped onto his hands and crawled up the bed to hang over her on all fours.

She flopped flat on her back. Arched her slender brows. “Now what?”

“Oh, honey.” He bent his elbows to stroke his chest against her breasts as he planted a fast, carnal kiss on her lips. Straightening, he looked down at her. Her nipples poked hard points into her soft sweater. “Now I do all those things I’ve fantasized doing to you.”

She insinuated her hands beneath the hem of his old Columbia U. sweatshirt and caressed the bare skin at the small of his back. For the first time since she’d launched herself at him, he recalled his less-than-pristine state and felt a moment’s uncertainty.

Christ. He was hardly every woman’s dream in his current condition. Had he even showered today?

But it didn’t seem to bother her, for she merely murmured, “Cool,” and rubbed her hands up his bare back, his ratty sweatshirt pooling in the bends of her elbows to follow the path her fingers set. “I guess that means I get to do all the things that
I’ve
imagined doing then, too, yes?”

His momentary doubt dissolved. “I’m counting on it.” He came down on top of her.

Jenny apparently had other ideas, however, because she snapped a finger under his nose. “Back up on your hands, mister,” she ordered and tugged on the sweatshirt she’d raised until it was a thick band circling his chest and upper back. “I want this off. Now.”

“Pushy little thing, aren’tcha.” He followed her command, however, and she pulled the garment over his head. That left it stretched across his chest from biceps to biceps and, lifting his right hand, he yanked his arm out of the sleeve, turning it inside out in the process. Then, raising his other hand, he repeated the process. But this time it bunched around his hand and he shook it sharply until the damn thing finally lost its grip and sailed over the side of the bed.

Jenny slapped her hands to his chest and shoved determinedly. He obediently fell away from her, flopping over onto his back.

She rose onto her knees, mounted him like a horse and sat astride his thighs. Perched atop him, she undulated slow and sexy, like a stripper on a sluggish mechanical bull. Pressing one clenched fist into her thigh, she raised her other arm overhead, moving it in slow counterpart with the lazy rock of her body.

She looked down at him through heavy-lidded eyes and licked her lips. “Save a horse—ride a cowboy,” she murmured.

“Yee-haw.” The back-and-forth motion had its predictable effect on his dick, and he gritted his teeth even as his hips cocked up to keep it aligned with the yielding friction of that soft, soft place between her legs.

Then it was gone as she slid her body down until she lay with her stomach atop his thighs, her legs stretched out along his. A discerning cock would likely be disappointed, but his was an opportunist of the equal opportunity variety. It liked every move she made and adjusted happily to nestling between her little tits.

Threading her fingers through the light fan of hair on his chest, she bent her head and nuzzled the top of his chest, then stretched to do the same to the contour of his neck where it flowed into his shoulder. Scooting up, she pushed his arms up to curl over his head on the mattress, holding them pinned with dainty fingers splayed across his forearms and the press of her inner arms against his.

It was surprisingly erotic and, feeling the need to hide how effortlessly she was heating him to the boiling point—which, okay, was a joke, considering the evidence of it determinedly prodding her—he said drily, “Dominatrix one of your fantasies?”

“You bet,” she agreed. “Next time I’ll dig out my leather corset.”

“I’d like that. I’m—”

She sank her teeth into his triceps in a quick bite.

“Christ!” Who would have expected
that
to be such a turn-on? He shivered as she licked away the sting he only belatedly realized had startled him more than dealt much actual pain.

“Nothing egocentric about you,” she said huskily against the side of his neck, where she was placing soft, openmouthed kisses. “A god, I’ll grant you. But definitely one of the lower-case-
g
deities. Musclicious, maybe—that minor fertility god of hard bodies.”

“Smart-ass.”

This time she bit the ball of his shoulder and he thrust upward to rub against her nearest body part. Damn. The girl was a moving target.

So, what was it about her, anyway? He’d been with some seriously sexually accomplished women in his life—hell, with some of the world’s most sexually
sophisticated
women. So how was it that the far-from-sophisticated kiss Jenny had given him a moment ago made him feel like an addict who’d just mainlined the highest-grade product in existence?

First one’s on us, little boy.

Like hell. He could take over like
that!
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind he was reams more experienced than she. He could have her begging for mercy in moments.

Yet he lay beneath her, still except for the jump of a muscle here, a seeking upward thrust of his hips there, desperate to see what she’d do next.

He gave up trying to swallow the occasional groan as she relinquished her grip on his arms and worked her way back down his torso in tortuous increments, exploring with her hands, her lips, her teeth and tongue. Clenching his own teeth to keep the crazy-ass pleas gathering in his throat from escaping, he looped his locked fingers behind the back of his head and crunched up to look down at her when she finally reached his waistband.

Unbuttoning it, she fiddled with the zipper head. Stared at the tense muscles in his abdomen for a moment. Then she glanced up to meet his gaze as she slowly lowered his zipper. His cock, behind the thin, stretchy cotton-and-silk blend of his boxers, made a break for it, crowding the opening.

She looked down and simply gazed for a moment where the barely concealed bulk of him was framed between wide-open zipper teeth. Then, tearing her gaze away with a clear effort, she shot him a one-sided smile. “You know, I really expected you to be a more handsy kind of guy.”

He stilled. “You want my hands on you?”

“Well, of course.” Running an exploratory finger down the length of the soft fabric over his hard dick, she licked the ab above his boxer’s band and heaved a faux sigh, which wafted warm air to add an additional layer of torture to the mix. “Why is it that women always have to do all the heavy lifting?”

“I’ll give you heavy lifting,” he growled and, ripping his hands from behind his head, hooked them beneath her armpits and pulled her up the length of his torso. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled the two of them over.

He pushed up on his elbows and grinned down at her. “I liked that domination thing you had going. Let’s continue with that—we’ll just reverse the spin.”

She made a dismissive noise and flashed him a look down the length of her nose—a feat he had to admire, considering how hard it must have been to pull off, flat on her back with him looming over her. “Nobody likes a copycat, Bradshaw.”

“Oh, you will,” he promised silkily, and threading their fingers together, he replicated her earlier movements, enjoying the slide of her sweater-covered breasts against his bare chest as he pressed her arms to the bed above her head. It occurred to him that his pledge would probably carry more weight if he’d stripped her first, but he mentally shrugged. A guy could only do what a guy could do. He lowered his head and kissed her.

God, he loved her mouth. Her lips were soft and oh, so pliable. And when they opened beneath his, her mouth was hot and wet. He’d never tasted another like it, and lust pounded in his pulse points at the way her lips worked his as feverishly as his did hers. At the way her tongue tangled every bit as aggressively.

Manacling her wrists in his left hand, he lowered his right to slide beneath the thin tomato-red wool hem of her sweater. The feel of her beneath his fingers had him raising his mouth from hers and hissing in air through his teeth. “God,” he breathed reverently. “Your skin is so damn soft.”

Bondage lost its allure and he relinquished her wrists in favor of gripping a handful of her hair. He circled his fist to twist a slippery length around it, tilting her head back until her throat was an exposed arch. Lowering his head, he strung openmouthed kisses from the silken underside of her jaw, down the smooth-skinned column to the fragile triangular depression at its base. He lapped the flat of his tongue into the hollow, with its faint tracery of blue veins, and felt his cock jump when her pulse hammered beneath it.

Slipping his free hand beneath her top, he cupped a lace-covered breast.

Jenny arched her back, ardently pressing the small globe into his palm. “Jake?”

“I want to strip you naked and lick every inch of you,” he muttered hoarsely, inching down the bed to use his tongue to delineate the curve of her collarbone in her sweater’s wide, scooped neckline. Beneath whisper-soft wool, his thumb traced circles over her beaded nipple, abrading its impudent point with the bra’s lace. He wanted nothing more than to drive her as out of control as he was beginning to feel. “I want to bury myself so deep inside of you all I can feel is you coming all over my cock.”