Straight Up Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor Book 2)
Straight Up Love: Chapter 23

Jake’s dancing with me. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I swear this feels like sex. The way his hands move over my body, gripping my hips, the graze of knuckles over my stomach, his breath at my neck then my hair tugged lightly in his fist . . .

I’ve never had sex with Jake, but I can imagine if we ever make it there, this is what it’ll feel like—a relentless desire for more, more, more, each touch making my body plead for the next, each caress making my skin hum. The thought makes me want to rush this and slow it down all at once.

Dinner was good. We didn’t talk again about the things he said to me in the bathroom, and I didn’t ask again if he planned on sleeping with me tonight—a question I realized he never actually answered.

We talked about typical Jake and Ava things: business at the bar, school, his mom’s treatments, how perfect his niece is going to be on stage this summer. I understood he was making me wait. And I liked it. But now that his hands are on me and his body is against mine, I’m done waiting. I spin in his arms so I can see his face. I feel good after a couple of drinks, and more relaxed than I have in months. Maybe years.

Jake scans my face before meeting my eyes. “You’re drunk,” he says, his voice rough.

“I’m . . . relaxed.”

“Relaxed but not drunk?” he asks, searching my face. “Tonight, the difference matters.”

“Buzzed, not drunk,” I promise. I rise onto my toes to get my mouth closer to his ear. “Take me to bed.”

He runs his thumb over my bottom lip and nods. “Yeah.”

I wave to Ellie, to Colton, to Levi and his date. Jake keeps hold of my hand the entire way to the door. His strides are long, and I practically have to jog to keep up with him. I brace myself to chase after him the whole way to the hotel, but his steps slow the second we reach the sidewalk, as if the cool air outside the club has sobered him and made him less frantic.

I squeeze his hand. I want him frantic. I liked the way he was racing out of there with me. I was imagining he couldn’t wait to get me alone, and I want that to be true. I’m just not sure it is.

We stop to cross at the light, and he’s so quiet it’s killing me. His whole body is tense. Is he regretting this? Wishing he hadn’t made promises or whispered in my ear?

“Jake?” I’m still holding his hand, and I squeeze. This is where I should give him the out. You don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.

Before I can get the words off my tongue, his hard eyes meet mine. He shakes his head as he presses his index finger to my lips. “Don’t.”

What does that mean?

I don’t have much time to analyze the word before he’s tugging me across the intersection, into the hotel, and across the lobby. The second the elevator doors close behind us, I’m pressed against the wall, his mouth on mine. His hands are greedy and seem to be everywhere at once. One is in my hair and the other’s at my hip, tugging at my dress until his fingers splay over my bare thigh. He traces the strap of my thong from the small of my back to under my belly and down between my legs, where I know I’m wet. Does he feel that through the lace? Does he understand that I suck at this? That my body sometimes locks up and that at any moment my pleasure could morph into panic? That my overactive brain could start a destructive spiral and ruin everything?

My worries evaporate at the feel of his knuckles along the fabric between my legs. “Do you want me to touch you here?” The question is a husky whisper against my ear. “Put my mouth on you here?”

I never thought I was into words, but Jake’s are the best kind of foreplay, and I want more. “Yes. Please. I want you. All of you.”

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight, Ava.”

I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and moan as I release it. “Please.” I know I’d never have the courage to speak like this if it weren’t for the drinks. I’m grateful for the buzz making me bold. I need the courage tonight. “I’m begging. You said that’s what you wanted.”

His palm snakes up my dress and flattens against my belly as his fingertips slide into my panties and he cups me. “I like hearing you say that. I like knowing you want me.”

The elevator dings. The door slides open, but neither of us moves.

“Tonight isn’t about anything but you and me. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m touching you tonight because I want to touch you. I’m going to make you come just because it feels good, and because I’ve had too many fucking fantasies of getting my mouth between your legs to pass it up now.”

I shudder in his arms, faintly aware of the doors sliding closed. “You don’t have to—”

“Fuck have to. Tonight is about want. You hear me?” He shakes his head slowly, studying me. “Anything you want. But no sex. That’s something we both have to wait for.”

I nod my understanding, and part of me is grateful. I want Jake to touch me. I want this to be about us and not about my big plans—and he’s giving me that without me ever asking for it. He knows I need it because he knows me.

He punches the button on the wall, and the doors slide open again.

My legs aren’t much better than noodles beneath me as he leads me out of the elevator, but I somehow make it to our room. He opens the door for me, and before it has the chance to swing closed behind him, I grab a fistful of his shirt. “I want it to be good for you, too.”

“Good.” He grabs my dress in both his fists and yanks it over my head. I don’t have time to feel nervous about him seeing me in my bra and panties because one second he’s tossing my dress onto the floor, and the next he has me pressed against the wall. His hand slides between my legs, rubbing the lace over my clit.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs against my mouth. “So fucking wet.” He kisses his way down my neck and across my collarbone—a symphony of lips and teeth and tongue that signals hunger more than seduction and leaves me feeling desirable in a way I’ve never felt in my life.

He drops his head to my breast and sucks at me through my thin bra. When I cry out, he pulls his head away and pinches my nipple between his finger and thumb. “I’m going to have so much fun discovering all the ways I can make you come,” he murmurs. His mouth trails lower, skimming over my belly, his tongue grazing my navel until he’s on his knees before me with his hands on my ass and his forehead resting against one hipbone.

I slide a hand into his hair. “Jake, you . . .”

His eyes are hot when he tilts his face up to me, and the intensity there makes the words clog in my throat. He shakes his head. “Don’t you fucking dare give me a you don’t have to speech right now. I already told you, tonight is about pleasure, and I want to feel you. I want to taste you. So don’t tell me to stop unless you don’t want this.”

“I want you to . . .” My voice wobbles on the words. “I want to feel your mouth on me.” I’m so nervous about letting the words out that they’re too soft. He holds my gaze for five thunderous beats of my heart, and I think he might not have heard me at all. But in a flash, I see that he did. I see it in his eyes and hear it in the guttural rumble of his groan. He heard every word.

“Fuck yes.” He dips his head to nuzzle me between my legs. He groans, and I feel the vibration of the sound right against where I’m hot and wet. Where I’m aching. His fingers curl under the string of my thong, and my legs shake as I wait for him to pull it off.

Instead, he stands, eyes all over me. “You want this on when my mouth is on you?”

I shake my head.

He steps back. “Then take it off, baby.” His eyes trail over me—the modest swell of my breasts, the flat of my stomach, my thighs. “Let me see you.”

I unhook my bra with shaking hands. I’m already wearing so little that there isn’t much surprise left, but I’m still as nervous as a virgin bride. I want to be everything to Jake. I want to be his fantasy. When I slide the straps down my arms, delicate lace cups fall to the floor, and his nostrils flare.

“Fuck yes.” His eyes are all over me. “So fucking perfect.”

I catch his eyes as I loop my thumbs into the straps at my hips and tug until this last scrap of covering falls to my feet, then I step out of my shoes.

“This is happening.” He shakes his head slowly, eyes scanning every inch of my face—trying to read me or memorize me. Both?

I swallow hard because I can’t believe it either, and I’m scared to admit even to myself just how long I’ve wanted this. “I like the way you look at me.”

“How’d you think I’d look at you?”

I shrug and swallow the words lodged like a fist in my throat. Now’s not the time for insecurities. This is a moment for bold passion and frantic touches, but Jake wants to know, and it feels important. “I’ve always wanted to be more.” I take a step toward him and wave a hand down my body. “More hips, more boobs, more ass.”

“Nah,” he says softly. “You don’t need more of anything.” He lifts a hand to cup my breast and grazes a thumb across my nipple. His greedy eyes are all over me. “This is you, Ava. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten myself off imagining you showing me this body? Imagining you letting me touch it?”

“Really?” My voice cracks on the word—like a shell breaking and releasing my fears to puddle at my feet.

“I’ve pictured you so many times that you’d think I would have gotten it right.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “And yet you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

My insecurities fade away, replaced with boldness from the awe in his eyes. “I’ve thought about you too.”

He lifts his head, his eyes locking on mine. “Have you?”

I nod. “Every night this week I’ve touched myself thinking about the things you said to me.” I lick my lips. The admission leaves me exposed, but I like the feeling. This is what it’s like to strip myself bare for Jake. To show him where I’m most vulnerable. “I don’t normally do that so often, but you’ve made me . . . Jake, you put ideas in my head. Made me want things.”

“This week?”

I nod. “And in the shower . . .”

His chest expands on his deep inhale. “And what about before this week?” He grazes my collarbone with his index finger, then traces a line down between my breasts, over my navel, and between my legs, where I’m swollen and needy for him. “Before this week, did you ever touch yourself thinking about me?”

Desire is ungrounded electricity between us, snapping at the air and looking for connection. “Yes.”

“Once? Twice?” He cups my jaw in his hand and rubs my bottom lip with his thumb.

“Too many times to count.” I give a shaky smile. “You’ve starred in my fantasies for years. Even when I didn’t want to admit it to myself, you were there.”

He growls and nods. “I would’ve been. You only had to ask.”

I open my mouth to question this—or maybe to object—but he leads me to the bed, and I don’t care about anything else. “Lie back, beautiful.”

I do as he says, but he’s unbuttoning his shirt, so I only go down to my elbows, wanting the view of his broad shoulders, the display of ink on his skin. He drops his dress shirt to the floor, then yanks his undershirt over his head and throws it aside. The sight of him makes the ache between my legs coil tighter. Bare chest. Tattoos. Hard muscle under soft skin.

“I like that.” He nods to me. “I want you up on your elbows when my mouth is on you.” He strips out of his jeans, and my breath catches at the sight of him. His strong legs. The dark hair that trails under his navel and into his boxer briefs. The thick erection beneath them.

He’s gorgeous. And right now, he’s mine.

“Come here.” I reach out a hand. As he takes it, I hear the muffled trill of his phone from his discarded jeans. “Ignore it.”

He grins. “I don’t have anything nice to say to someone who’d interrupt me right now.” He climbs over me, and I lie back, welcoming the weight of his body between my legs, the press of his erection through the cotton of his briefs.

He kisses me again, and I lift my hips and cry out at the pressure of him against my clit. How can I be so close to coming apart? He’s hardly touched me, but I feel my body skating along a precarious ledge. I press my hips down into the mattress to suppress the instinctive grind.

He mutters a curse against my ear. “Don’t stop.”

I grip his shoulders and curl my nails into his skin. “I’m afraid I’ll . . .” My hips jerk under him, and heat whips down my spine. “Jake . . .”

“Just let yourself feel good.” He circles his hips, rubbing himself against me, and God it’s good. It’s heat and pressure and elation, and I want more and less all at once. He sucks at the tender skin of my neck before returning his mouth to my ear. “Do you have any idea how hot it is to see you this turned on? To have you naked under me and know you’re about to come against my cock?” He sucks my earlobe between his teeth, and I hear my own sharp cry. God, that mouth. “I can’t wait to get inside you.”

His words are my undoing. They cut away the last of my restraint and push me over the line between pleasure and release. I rock against him through it—wild and unashamed, my entire body a collection of tiny explosions.

He kisses my neck. My ear. My jaw. The tip of my nose. “You’re so beautiful.”

I drag in one gulp of air after another. I can’t believe I just did that. I can hardly get myself off on a good day, and orgasms with a partner have been rare at best in my experience. But I just dry-humped Jake until I saw stars. “Wow.” I uncurl my fingers from his shoulders and wince. He’s going to have marks from my nails. “Sorry.”

A phone rings again, but this time it’s mine. We both ignore it.

He pushes himself up on one arm so he’s looking down at me. “What are you apologizing for?”

I shrug. “For digging my nails into your shoulders? For finishing before we really got started?”

He grins. “I can handle some battle scars if it means hearing you moan like that.” His eyes search my face. “And I never said you were finished.”

A booming knock echoes through the room. “Jake! Get your ass here now!”