Inked on Paper (24 page)

Chapter Forty-Six

Jake

For some reason, being with Presley at the cabin made sitting down to write that much easier. She inspired me, made me desperate to put words on paper. I’d never had a woman do that to me. Certain situations, yes. Songs, definitely. I’d been known to need to get to my computer to write because that particular moment had struck something inside me.

But never a woman.

Until her.

I opened my notebook, scanned the last chapter I’d written, which was hot, not helping the throb between my legs in the least.

I grabbed my pen and started to write.

Completely depleted, Kora managed to get her legs beneath her once again, her breathing finally returning to normal as Donovan removed the condom, tossing it in a trash bin in the corner before fixing her clothes for her. Apparently her body was too weak to listen to commands from her brain or she would’ve done it herself.

“Was that really as good as I think it was?” she asked, not
thinking
considering what she was saying before the words were out there, unable to be taken back.

She expected a cocky response, but when Donovan spoke, he sounded as
surprised
stupefied as she
was
felt.

“Definitely,” Donovan agreed.

Opening her eyes, Kora met his
emerald
intense gaze.

This was awkward.

She’d never done the deed in a storage closet with a guy she didn’t know, a guy she’d likely never see again, so she wasn’t sure what the rules were. Did she thank him for the orgasm? Did she simply turn and walk away? Was she expected to make small talk? Offer her phone number?

God, it was all too confusing.

Unfortunately, she didn’t know how it worked, so she stood there, staring at him.

“We should get back to the party,” he finally said.

Well, there you have it. She was supposed to pretend it had never happened, which she could do.

Nodding, she said, “Yes, we should.”

“You ready?” he asked.

Her legs still felt like limp noodles, but she managed to shore up her resolve, garner her strength, and push off the wall, brushing her hands over her hair as she did. When Donovan opened the door, Kora peeked out, and when she noticed the coast was clear, she stepped into the hall.

“Thanks,” she said, looking back at him over her shoulder before she hurried into the ladies’ restroom, leaving him staring after her.

I liked that Kora left him hanging. She didn’t know how it worked, but she wasn’t going to let him dictate it, either, and she definitely wasn’t going to follow him around like a puppy. As far as Kora was concerned, their encounter was over.

One look in the mirror told her she looked well and truly fucked. In a good way, but fucked nonetheless.

My mind wandered to Presley, who was now sleeping upstairs in my T-shirt. I wanted to see her when she was well and truly fucked. By me.

Damn it.

Not helping.

I put my pen on the page again.

Her hair was a tangled mess, her mascara smeared, her lip gloss nonexistent. Knowing she couldn’t go back to the baby shower looking like this, Kora tried to reassemble herself as best she could. After a few minutes, she realized it wasn’t working.

There was no way she could walk back into that banquet room. It was bad enough her family and friends already thought she was a slut. This would only give them more reason to think that.

Was she? Did screwing some guy in a closet at her sister’s baby shower qualify her for slut-dom? He was, after all, her ex-boyfriend’s brother. Did that make it worse?

“Ugghh.”

As far as she was concerned, there was only one thing to do.

So, once again straightening her spine, Kora plastered on a smile and … made a beeline for her car.

I knew Donovan wouldn’t chase after Kora. Not yet. He would need to bide his time, find a way to track her down. But I also knew he was intuitive. He knew she’d left, even if he wished she hadn’t.

Donovan knew Kora was gone. He’d known she would disappear as soon as they’d stepped out into the hallway. Her brief “thanks” had seemed awkward, but he hadn’t known what to do or say. He got the distinct feeling that Kora had never done that before.

But he hadn’t been able to tell her that, so he’d simply returned to the baby shower, hoping no one had been looking for either of them while they’d been otherwise occupied.

Luckily, the mother-to-be was busy opening gifts, oohing and ahhing over every little thing. Really? A package of diapers deserved an Oscar-worthy performance?

When it was obvious no one had realized he’d been gone, Donovan made his way to the bar, ordering a drink, then resuming his post against the wall. Since Kora had left, he knew it would look suspicious if he did, so he was doomed to spend a little more time there. At least until he could meet up with Sam, give him the customary congratulations speech.

And then he’d be able to leave.

Reaching for his phone, he shot a text to his assistant, informing him that he needed an address for Kora Madison. She had disappeared, sure, but he wasn’t going to allow her to disappear forever. He fully intended to track her down.

How could he not? Personally, I don’t think I could’ve let Presley go without a fight at this point—something I’d have to spend some time thinking about later. We’d established a connection in a short period of time. Yeah, it had been longer than a day, but who said there was a time limit on these things?

As he sipped his drink, he thought back to their rendezvous in the closet, to the way she’d felt, her pussy clamped onto his dick, her fingernails digging into him. They’d had on too many clothes, and he would’ve preferred to feel her nails raking down his bare skin. It was safe to say he wouldn’t forget what had happened between them.

“Hey.”

Donovan focused on the present, realizing Sam was standing directly in front of him, a curious expression on his face.

“Hey,” he greeted, tossing back what was left of his drink.

“I thought you left,” Sam told him.

Donovan shook his head.

“Where’d you go?”

Sam’s
curious
inquisitive
expression
look turned to one of skepticism, making Donovan realize his brother had probably noticed that he’d disappeared at the same time Kora had.

Not that he really gave a shit. Sam had screwed the pooch in that deal. His dumb ass hadn’t been able to keep it in his pants long enough to realize he’d had a damn good thing.

So, as far as Donovan was concerned, Sam’s loss was his gain.

He decided against telling Sam that, though. Instead, he lied. “Stepped outside to get some air.”

“Oh. You okay?”

“Perfect,” he lied again.

“I was hoping to introduce you to Kora,” Sam said, peering around the room. “But it looks like she left.”

Why would Sam want to introduce Donovan to Kora? After all this time? Not once in all the time that Sam and Kora had been dating had he ever wanted to make those introductions. Seemed strange, but Donovan decided to pretend not to notice.

“She was here?” he asked, praying like hell that this wasn’t a trap. If it was, he’d just walked right into it.

“Yeah, but I don’t see her now. I’m sure she had something—or someone—better to do.”

A flash of anger sparked in Donovan’s gut. He didn’t like that Sam was making accusations. Especially since Sam was he one who’d cheated on Kora. Then again, Donovan figured Sam had been living the lie for long enough now, he probably didn’t realize who knew the truth and who didn’t.

Donovan knew the truth. And he honestly thought Sam was a dick.

“I am gonna have to go soon,” Donovan told him now.

“How long’re you in town?” Sam inquired.

“A week.” Donovan had managed to wrangle some time off, though he was only a phone call away if something arose. He doubted that would happen. The people in his employ were quite capable of managing for a few days without him.

“Maybe we can get together one day this week. Have a couple of beers.”

“Sure.” He wanted to ask if Kora would be around, because there was no way Donovan could leave town without seeing her again, but he managed to keep that to himself. He had some resources of his own, and he’d give those a shot before he resorted to hitting Sam up for Kora’s address or phone number.

“Thanks for coming,” Sam said, slapping Donovan on the back. “I’m glad you could make it. It really means a lot.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Donovan lied. Again.

At this rate, he feared walking out into the parking lot. It was quite possible—after all the lies he’d just told—lightning would strike him if he did.

Then again, it would be a suitable end to an already stormy day.

As far as I was concerned, this was only the beginning for these two. Even if Kora said she never wanted to see Donovan again, she still did. I knew it deep down. They would end up together, despite any obstacles. After all, Donovan definitely wasn’t the type of man to go down without a fight.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Presley

Although I’d been exhausted when I’d originally come up to my room, it had taken me nearly an hour to fall asleep. Partly because my body was humming from being so close to Jake, my desire for him intensifying with every passing second.

Once my head had hit the pillow, I had smelled him on the shirt he’d let me borrow, and the heady masculine scent hadn’t been easy to ignore. Then, my mind wandered to the full backpiece tattoo that I’d caught a glimpse of on him. Clearly I’d been all wrong about this guy. He was definitely the tattoo type and quite frankly, they looked fucking good on him. So good I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about licking my way over his body, tracing every outline with my tongue.

In fact, my blood had heated to irrational degrees, making my body hum loudly enough I figured he would hear me from downstairs. More than once, I’d been tempted to go down there to find him, to follow up on this uncanny attraction I had for him, but somehow I had managed to ignore it.

Well, technically, my exhaustion had won out and I had fallen asleep.

And now, as I rolled over to face the wall of windows that overlooked the lake, I saw the first rays of the sun peeking over the tree line. I peered at the clock near my head. Six fifty-four. Not bad, considering.

With a sigh, I forced my legs over the edge of the bed and onto the plush beige carpet. Once I was upright, I made a quick detour to the elaborately oversized bathroom, where I used the facilities, then brushed my teeth using my finger and a tube of toothpaste I found in the drawer because I was too lazy to dig my stuff out of my suitcase, although I probably should have.

The woman staring back at me looked as though she’d slept like the dead. My hair was a mess, but that didn’t bother me too much. I simply finger-combed it, then took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

It wasn’t until I was halfway down the stairs that I saw Jake coming out of the kitchen. When his eyes locked on me, I knew instantly that I’d forgotten something.

My pants.

Lucky for me, he’d loaned me his T-shirt last night because sleeping in jeans wasn’t even remotely comfortable, and the idea of wearing something that had at one time been on his body—I hadn’t expected to actually take the one that
was
on him, that was a bonus—had been too great to ignore.

However…

Not only had I removed my pants, but I’d also shed my bra, which meant I was standing there wearing nothing more than his soft, cotton T-shirt and my panties. It wasn’t that I was endowed enough that it even mattered, but I knew the reaction my body had to him, and likely, my pebbled nipples were poking through the fabric.

Not that I was going to look. That would be worse.

Thank God the shirt went down to my knees or I definitely would’ve gone up in flames.

“Morning,” I forced out, continuing my way down the stairs, pretending that I hadn’t accidentally forgotten to get dressed. Though somewhere deep in my subconscious, there was a little voice that told me it wasn’t an accident.

Irrelevant.

“Mornin’,” Jake rasped, his eyes tracking me as I made my way toward him.

I stopped directly in front of him, looking up and meeting his gaze head on. I didn’t hide my smile, either, immensely enjoying the flustered, confused look on his incredibly handsome face.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked, trying to draw his attention back to where we were and what we were doing and not the fact that he could strip me naked in less than two seconds flat if he wanted to.

Then again, I needed to remind him (as well as myself) about what we
weren’t
doing. I could see it in his eyes that if I gave a single hint as to what I really wanted, he’d be on me faster than I could say his name. And trust me when I said that I wanted that more than my next breath.

But I knew better. There was something going on between us that was definitely worth exploring, but it required a slower pace than the one we’d started off at. How I knew that, I wasn’t sure, but I did.

“I … uh…” Jake sputtered.

Because it seemed like the thing to do, I pushed up on my toes, pressed my lips to Jake’s cheek, and chuckled. “I take it there’s coffee?”

“Uh… Let me make some more.” Jake spun around so fast, I laughed when he nearly crashed into the wall.

I followed him into the kitchen—this one much bigger than the one at my condo, and significantly brighter and more open—then hopped up onto the center island, watching him closely while he prepared the coffee. I made sure I was covered appropriately, his shirt covering my thighs; the only things visible were the tattoos that decorated my lower legs and my feet. The neck was big, though, and it drooped at my right shoulder, giving him a peek at the sunflower I had tattooed there.

When it was obvious that he wasn’t going to turn around and face me, I called his name.

He slowly pivoted, his eyes downcast.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

I felt the warmth of his gaze as it slowly raked up my body, over my feet, my calves, my knees, my breasts, and then finally coming to rest on my face.

“Actually, yeah,” he said breathlessly. “
Incredibly
uncomfortable.”

My breath lodged in my throat as he stalked me, eliminating the few feet that separated us. His eyes glowed, and he looked like a man on a mission as he stepped between my legs, forcing them open. When he jerked me forward, it didn’t take but a second to recognize the discomfort he was referring to.

Pressed intimately between my legs was his erection, contained by the denim of his jeans.

“So uncomfortable,” he mumbled, then crushed his mouth to mine.

I didn’t even have time to be surprised. My body responded in kind, my arms twining around his neck as my fingers slipped into his hair, pulling him closer as he rocked his hips, his hard cock nestled against my aching sex.

Although I knew I should’ve slowed him down—or maybe I shouldn’t have—I couldn’t resist him, couldn’t push him away. So, instead, I pulled him closer, slid my tongue against his in an erotic mating that had my body humming, my heart pounding, and my need for him escalating far higher than I even thought possible.

I had never in my life had this sort of reaction to a man. With Jake, the only thing I could think about was touching him, tasting him, feeling him inside me. Usually, I was fairly subdued, not much of a risk taker in the sex department, but with him … I wanted to let loose.

I wanted my own porn star dialogue.

The thought made me smile.

When Jake pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, we were both breathing hard.

“You don’t know how bad I want to strip that shirt off you.”

I slid my hands down, over his shoulders, then down his back, raking my fingernails gently over the soft cotton of his T-shirt as I bunched it in my fists, lifting it until I exposed the smooth, warm skin of his back. I slid my hands beneath, palms flat as I gave myself permission to explore. Again, I knew there had to be a reason he continued to hold back, but I couldn’t help myself. It felt as though we’d been doing this dance forever, though it hadn’t been long at all.

“Oh, trust me, I know,” I told him. And I did. I wanted to pull his shirt off, to explore every inch of his chest with my lips and teeth, to hear him growl his approval.

“Do you?” he asked, his tone skeptical yet gentle and low.

I moved my hands around to his stomach, feeling the ripples of his abs against my fingers. Sliding them higher, I forced his shirt up, giving me my first glimpse of his smooth, bare chest, washboard abs, and that sexy V that dipped beneath the waistband of his low-slung jeans.

“Presley.” His voice was rough, a rumbled warning that I didn’t pay any attention to.

I wanted to put my mouth on him, to taste him.

He jerked me closer, his cock rubbing against me, too many clothes between us.

“Do you know how fucking bad I want to lay you back on this counter, to run my tongue over every inch of you? Starting with your lips, then moving … lower.” As he spoke, Jake’s finger trailed the path he was verbally outlining, and heat exploded in my veins. “Over your breasts.” His finger briefly stopped, flicking my hardened nipple and making me gasp. “Then lower. Everywhere I didn’t get to taste the first time around.”

I wasn’t sure I could handle any lower. His finger, the smooth, even way he touched me … it was making my eyes cross, my breath come in rapid pants.

“Fuck, Pres,” he muttered, his head lifting, eyes meeting mine. “This is a helluva lot harder than I thought it would be. And trust me, I hadn’t thought it would be easy. Not by a long shot.”

That made me smile. I liked that he was just as affected by me as I was by him. It made this thing between us mutual, and made me feel as though we were on even footing. Even if I knew we shouldn’t push this thing between us just yet.

Notice I didn’t say
couldn’t
.

We could.

So easily.

And I wanted to.

More than anything.

Luckily, the coffeepot hissed, a signal that it was finished. I felt Jake’s reluctance as he stepped back from me, taking with him the warmth he’d infused me with.

I decided this was the perfect opportunity to change the subject. “What time did you get up?”

“Before the sun was up,” he told me, peering over his shoulder from where he was pouring the coffee. “Sugar?”

“Yeah. And a little coconut milk,” I replied. “Does that mean you were writing?”

Jake handed me the coffee cup after he doctored it, then moved back to lean against the counter. I watched him, gripping my mug with both hands in an attempt to steady them.

“It’s interesting how I’ve spent the last year unable to finish a story, sometimes unable to write anything at all. And then three weeks ago, I bumped into this beautiful woman in a coffee shop and now…”

“Now?” I probed, wanting to hear him explain it.

His eyes locked with mine. “When I’m around you, I can write. In fact, I’m pretty sure I can do anything.”

“Why is that?” I asked, my voice reflecting the tremor that raced through me. Jake might not know it, but his words seduced me, in a way no man had ever done before.

He shrugged. “I think I’ve found my muse.”

Since he’d said the words I’d been thinking all along—only he was
my
muse—I nodded in understanding. But for the first time, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. We’d been spending some time together, and it seemed that he could write when we did, so part of me wondered whether that was his reason for being with me.

I hated my skepticism, but I couldn’t ignore it completely.

“So where do we go from here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Wherever we want.”

That sexy, mischievous smirk was back and my body recognized it instantly.

Only, I hadn’t the slightest clue what that actually meant, but I was definitely interested in finding out.