Once and Again (19 page)

Jake needed to touch her, taste her. Bury himself inside her again and again.

How he got them both back to his house, he had no idea. The ride through the dark Eastbridge woods was a total blur. And when he finally got the car parked in his driveway, Carolyn was on him, kissing him as if she couldn’t breathe without him.

It took all of his willpower to hold off, to pull away and get out of the car so he could get
her
out of the car, so they could make love properly in his bed.

He unlocked his front door.

“Come on in,” he said.

She didn’t even hesitate. Just stepped forward, and then her arms were around his neck and her mouth was on his and she tasted so good and rich it made him dizzy. He practically dragged her inside, then he slammed the door shut and pushed her back up against it, hands gripping her shoulders.

She was really here.

So he kissed her, tonguing her mouth, her lips, devouring her, too far gone with wanting to display any finesse whatsoever. She didn’t seem to mind, gripping him around the waist and making the hottest little noises he’d ever heard. This was a night to explore everything he thought he’d never have with this one beautiful, unattainable woman.

Because tonight she was his.

He forced himself to slow down, to savor, so he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. Really kissed her, deeply and thoroughly, paying careful attention to every inch of her beautiful mouth, her jaw, and that sensitive skin on her neck. When he hit the spot he knew would drive her crazy, her breath gave a little hitch and then she let it out slowly, so slowly. He went back for more and she shuddered in his arms.

She was delicious, moaning and rubbing up against him in an erotic dance that aroused every one of his senses. Slowly, deliberately, she rotated her hips to meet his.

Fuck
, he needed to be inside her and they were both wearing too many clothes.

Carolyn’s hands were up the back of his shirt. He loved the way her skin felt, smooth against his. Loved even more the scratch of her fingernails when he hit a sweet spot on her neck. And when she slid her hand down his back to cup his ass and squeezed, a shot of pure lust ran through him.

“You keep that up, I’m going to fuck you against the wall again,” he warned.

“Okay,” she said, kissing his neck.

“Later.” He grabbed a free hand, led her through the house, and got her upstairs to his bedroom. He flicked on one of the wall lamps and dim lighting made the room glow. Immediately, she kicked off her heels and climbed on the bed, tucking her legs behind her.

As soon as he climbed on beside her, she pulled his shirt over his head. She stared for a moment at the tattoos covering his shoulders and chest, and then traced one, right on his pectoral.

“You’re so different,” she said.

“And you’re the same.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m not, either. Does it matter?”

“No,” she said, her gaze sweeping over his face and torso. “No.”

He lifted her chin and touched his lips to hers, and the kiss got dirty, fast. Open-mouthed, tongues dueling, sensation wrapping around his cock and not letting go.

A soft movement in the vicinity of his chest had him pulling back. She was undoing her shirt, one tiny button at a time.

“What are you doing?” he growled.

She undid another button. “Getting undressed.”

“No. Let me.”

“Okay.”

He eased her flat on her back, wrists held captive above her head, and then he kissed her, loving the way her tongue slipped so easily into his mouth. When he lifted his head, her breathing was shallow and her pupils were dilated. Oh, she liked this. A whole lot.

“I’m going to strip you now.”

She inhaled sharply, her little nostrils flaring. “Do it.”

Jake shifted to his side, then slowly, deliberately, undid each little button on her shirt, revealing inch after inch of creamy flesh. He spread the shirt open, displaying a white, lacy bra cut so low it barely covered her nipples.

He’d never dared to dream of her like this—his every fantasy come to life. He tugged the cups down, forcing her breasts up and over, and began to play, skin on skin. He mouthed one, tonguing the tip and biting softly while he gave the other a pinch.

“Oh, God,” she gasped, and he took just a moment to admire what he had right in front of him.

Carolyn was a vision, pinned to the bed, her mouth swollen, her nipples hard, her cheeks flushed with need. She was breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow movements. It had always been there between them, this insane chemistry that they should have tapped into years ago.

“Arch your back,” he said. She complied, and he reached around to unclasp her bra and unzip her skirt, sliding it down her hips along with her panties. The shirt came off, too. When she’d shimmied out of her clothes, he nudged her legs open and covered her mound with his palm, slipping one finger inside for good measure. She was wet and slick. Ready for him.

He slid his finger in and out, then curled it up. Carolyn made a choking kind of sound.
Right there.

“Please, Jake,” she said.

He rubbed that sensitive pad inside her and she gasped again. “Please what?” he teased. She was saying his name the way he heard it in his dreams—sexy and breathless. His head swam with power.

“Please let me touch you. I want to touch you, too.”

He’d dreamed of having Carolyn Rivington in his bed, any and every way he wanted, and he damn sure was going to draw this out until she was begging him for release. “Not yet,” he said, and sucked on a nipple. She gasped and sighed, and he took that as a sign to continue, working a second finger inside her and taking great pleasure in the quickening of her breathing as he stretched her. He circled her clit with a fingertip and she shuddered. He did it again. To have her writhing under him, shaking with need, was the ultimate aphrodisiac. Always had been, yet it had never been like this—this pure, raw craving he couldn’t seem to sate. No matter what tension was between them, he would make this good for her. He slid down her body, replacing his fingers with his mouth.

Her back came off the bed and she let out a low moan.
God,
she was made for him. He held her hips down and feasted, reveling in every little noise she made as he licked and sucked. For some reason, this seemed the most intimate act of all. Her, trusting him, trusting herself, to let him taste every inch of her.

After a few long moments he slowly became aware of a hand pushing on his shoulder, so he lifted his head. Her eyes were almost completely glazed over. “I want you inside me again.”

“I’m all yours.”

She pushed him back on the bed and bent her lips to his, her long, loose hair tickling his skin.

And then she touched. Ran her elegant fingers all over his arms, his chest, his neck, her talented mouth following suit, driving him crazy. She’d learned what pleased him, and he’d be damned if she didn’t remember everything he’d taught her.

Just when he thought he was going to have to do some begging of his own, she unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his legs.

He was still hard—had been ever since they’d left Briarwood—and when she pulled off his boxers, too, he nearly sprang into her waiting hand.

They’d done this before, but so long ago he’d almost forgotten how it felt to have Caro stroking him. Her hand was still on his cock when she kissed him, her tongue and her hand moving in perfect unison.

Oh
,
she was good. Nearly half his life had been spent comparing every other woman to Carolyn. And none had ever truly measured up.

“I want to be on top,” she whispered, her breath on his cheek as she stroked him, heightening his need.

Yeah,
he’d like that. Watching her take her pleasure as she rode him. Her choice. Her way.

“Just let me get ready,” he said, reaching for his bedside table drawer.

When he finally got the condom on, he helped guide her hips as she opened for him.
Jesus,
she was tight, gripping him as she worked herself up and down, her face contorted into an expression of pure pleasure. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

When she’d gotten him fully inside her, she leaned forward, her lips almost touching his. “Are you okay?” she whispered, her tenderness touching.

“Yeah, Caro. I’m okay.” An understatement. He was fucking fantastic. He pushed her back a little, groaning as he shifted inside her, and reached up to play with her nipples. She shuddered and bent down to kiss him again.

It didn’t take long. A thumb on her clit, his mouth on her breast, and she came hard and fast, milking him so hard he almost came himself.

She hadn’t recovered before he flipped her onto her back, arranged her legs around his waist, and slid home.

He sank into the hilt and when she gasped, he nudged in a little more.

“Jake—” she breathed, her eyes closed.

Yes.
Just like this. Connected in the most intimate way possible, her baring herself to him fully. He bracketed his forearms around her head, buried his hands in her hair, and began to move, slowly at first, enjoying the hitch in her breath, the gentle stroke of her fingers on his back. There was no artifice in her sighs, in the way she murmured her pleasure under her breath, her soft words urging him on.

When she began to make small movements with her hips, he sealed his mouth to hers and picked up the pace, sliding in and out with an easy glide. Pinned under the hard weight of him, she shuddered and clenched around his cock, reaching for it. And he was, too, feeling the mattress give with every downstroke.

Then she tore her mouth away and her whole body bowed as she gasped his name and that was enough for him to explode inside her. His mind went blank, filled only with a hard, hot pleasure rush.

Slowly, he returned to consciousness, and then gently withdrew from her body. He gathered her boneless form in his arms and tucked her against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of her abdomen as she breathed, the softness of her hair against his arm.

He wished he’d felt this way the first time—satisfied, yet still wanting more. He’d lived for this—for Carolyn Rivington to be in his arms the way he’d always dreamed. And for the briefest of instants, the crazy idea passed through his mind that she really
was
his, now and always.

Jake took her again in the bed and bent face-forward over a chair. He let her suck him, only because she begged to. Finally, just as he’d promised, he took her up against the wall while she screamed her release into his shoulder.

And he still hadn’t gotten her out of his system.

Now she was lying, half-dazed, in his bed, her golden hair strewn all over the pillow. She was flushed and messy, her cheeks stained a rosy pink, what minimal makeup she’d worn completely gone, leaving just the essence of her.

It was a beautiful sight.

Whatever issues she’d had that night on the beach were gone.
Good.
He wanted her whole. His. He ran his fingers through her messy hair just because he could, and she closed her eyes in pleasure.

After she’d recovered a little more, Carolyn tipped up on her side, her gaze raking his torso. “Can I look at you?” she asked, almost shyly. His ink must be a curiosity to her, yet he wasn’t embarrassed. The tattoos were part of him. They were who he was.

“Yeah.” He slipped his arm under his head and waited for her examination.

She looked for a while, studying the intricate lines and arcs, then traced her finger over one of the tattoos on his arm.

“What’s this?” she asked. The face of a lion. For the time when he’d screwed up the access route from one of his properties to the public library and had to redo it. Twice.

“A mistake,” he said.

“And this?” She pointed to a rose in bloom. “It’s beautiful.”

“For my mother.” Her favorite flower. He’d inked it on his skin to remember her.

“This one?”

“A falcon. For my first high-rise. Big success.”

It seemed safer to talk about these things—the things he’d done without her, after her. He’d defined his success on his own terms. He’d had help. Of course he had—from his siblings, from his mom, from Link, from the anonymous donors who’d funded his scholarships. But not from his dad, and definitely not from her.

She kept tracing until she reached the string of pearls. It was there she lingered. “This is for me, isn’t it?” Her voice was quiet.

“Yeah, Caro. That one’s for you.”

She pressed her lips together. “You must have really hated me.”

“Yeah, I did. For a long time.” It had burned a hole in his soul that he’d slowly filled with work and success. A temporary fix. “Every time I wanted to give up, I thought about you breezing through life, getting everything handed to you, and it made me work even harder.” That drive—that hatred for what she stood for—colored everything he did. He hadn’t had any kind of serious relationship, either. Just flings that went nowhere and made him feel empty afterward. “And then I come back and there you are at Briarwood, all perfume and hair and legs, and there I was wanting you all over again, except worse because I knew exactly what I was doing this time.” He shook his head. “I hated wanting you so much, and I hated that I couldn’t help myself. And I really fucking hated that I had a hundred other things to think about, and the only thing that kept running through my mind was me inside you, taking you however I could get you.”

Her lips quivered. “Do you still?”

“Hate you? God, no. How can you even ask that after what we just did?”

Silence for a while. Then: “When did it change?”

“I don’t know. Gradually. At first, maybe it was when I saw you fighting with that dickhead lawyer. And then I realized how hard you were working. How much you were struggling. And how much you’d changed. Something shifted.” He pushed her hair away from her face, traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. “No, Caro. I don’t hate you.”

She was looking at him with compassion and longing and desire and sadness, and for once, seeing that mixed-up expression on her face didn’t bother him. He deserved it all.