Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
He washes my hair. Massages my scalp. Spins me to face him. I keep my eyes closed as he soaps my body and cleans me from my head to my navel with his bare hands. I stand still and silent. Eventually, I lift my lashes just a fraction to peek at him. And I’m more than a little awestruck by the magnificence of Jake Swagger. Of his body that’s chiseled perfection. His masculine facial features that are devilishly handsome.
That feeling that is becoming too familiar rocks through me when his eyes meet mine. They are as soft with kindness as they are fiery with lust.
I need to fill the silence with something. But all I can manage is his name. “Jake…”
“Shhh.” He straightens and cups my face with his hands. “Let me do this. Let me take care of you.”
I swallow hard. Blink away tears. Nod. Let him kiss my head. My eyes. Cheeks. Nose. Chin.
Son of a bitch why does that make me want to cry harder?
He kneels in front of me to wash my legs. Soaping his hands and rubbing the lather into my hips before making his way all the way down my legs in firm, circular strokes. When he makes his way back up my legs, his touch is more sensual. I never knew the spot behind my knee was such an erogenous place until the slow drag of his fingers there leave me trembling.
“Turn around, Penelope.” His dark voice and even darker stare has me forgetting about everything but doing as I’m told.
This.
This is what he and I know.
It’s safe.
It’s distracting.
It’s…normal for us.
“Bend over. Hands on either side of the bathtub.”
My eyes fall closed and a noise I’ve never heard myself make escapes me. I try my best to forget that he’s kneeling behind me. But it’s impossible to do when I feel his lips skim my hip in feathery kisses moments before he breathes across my skin, “Spread your legs. I want to see your pussy.”
“…Jake…” The cry is guttural. And I don’t know if I’m trying to tell him I’m embarrassed by his words, or if I’m simply calling out to him because he’s all-consuming.
I have that feeling.
The warm one.
The Pop Rocks are in my veins.
There’s a flutter in my belly.
A heaviness in my chest.
And these things don’t stem from a throbbing, sexual need for him to be inside me. These feelings come from somewhere even deeper. There’s something about this humiliating, titillating, provocative moment that makes my body, mind and voice sing his name over and over.
“Hush, baby. Trust me. I got you.”
There are those words again. The ones from the elevator. The ones he whispered when he saved me. The ones from last night. The ones that made me fall asleep with the realization that what’s happening between us isn’t just some fictional story I’m writing. This is real. What I feel is real. I do trust him. And with trust comes love. With love comes pain. And I know it’s love because despite the fear of risking it all, I want to give myself over to him.
I cannot believe I’m having an epiphany while I’m bent over in the shower, my ass in Jake’s face, legs spread so he can see all of me.
I guess that’s what it takes for a girl like me who hides behind her humor and lives in an imaginary world to escape reality and all the heartache that comes with it. Because humiliation, uncertainty and vulnerability are feelings that can’t be ignored. And those are the feelings I feel in this moment.
Jake’s hands slide up the back of my thighs and cups my ass. “I should’ve done this last night.” He spreads me open and his breath fans over me. “This morning. Every time you gave yourself to me, I should’ve been right here. On my knees. Worshiping what brings me the best goddamn pleasure I’ve ever felt.”
Then his mouth is on me. Kissing my pussy. His tongue and lips like velvet on the sensitive, swollen flesh. It feels exquisite. Just like the massage. More cherishing than carnal despite where his mouth is.
This is nothing like last time. This isn’t foreplay. This isn’t him trying to make me come hard by sucking on my clit or fucking me with his tongue. This is him doing as he said—worshiping what he ravaged. Soothing what he hurt. Doing what he can to put back together the pieces of me that shattered in that elevator.
Everything inside me unravels. A sob escapes from deep in my chest. I don’t know what’s water and what’s tears. I’m a boneless, exhausted mess. Completely numb aside from the low, steady hum that swims through my veins and sounds in my ears.
He shuts off the water and helps me straighten before turning me to face him. I want to look at him. To see if his eyes reflect a hint of what I’m feeling. But I can’t lift my lids. “Wrap your arms around my neck, sweetheart.”