When he’s given everything to me, Jake brushes my hair aside and lays his chest against my back, resting his hands over mine against the wall.
“You okay?” he asks softly, kissing my shoulder, his teeth gently grazing my skin.
“I’m better than okay.”
He shifts his hips, and I can feel that he’s still semihard inside me.
“You’re not done?” I push back against him, smiling.
“I’ve not even started. I’ve gone two days without being inside you.” His arm comes around my waist. Sliding out of me, he spins me around to face him, yanking me up hard against his body. “I intend to make up on that time and spend the rest of the day inside you, f**king you senseless, until neither of us can walk.”
“Is that a promise?”
“You bet your sweet ass it is,” he growls as he picks me up and throws me down onto the bed, climbing on top of me.
CHAPTER THREE
I look down at the lights of LA as the jet heads for LAX.
Jake is sleeping beside me. I reach over and brush his fallen hair off his forehead. He looks so peaceful. I hate to wake him, but we’ll be coming in to land soon.
I glance down at my friendship bracelet on his wrist. Shifting it aside, I see where his skin is lighter underneath, where it’s been hidden from the sun. The same as mine. We never take them off—a promise made to each other to always wear the reminder of our childhood connection—the bracelets I made for us both all those years ago.
I can’t believe our holiday is over. The best holiday of my life. Now we’re heading back to reality.
Well, Jake’s reality.
Which is so far from any reality I could have ever imagined.
An ordinary girl in a far-from-ordinary world.
I wish we could have stayed on the island indefinitely, because I have a feeling that coming back here means things are about to get very real, very quickly.
Curving my fingertips around Jake’s ear, I tickle the sensitive skin behind it. The spot that drives him crazy when I kiss him there.
He catches my wrist, surprising me. “Don’t start something you can’t win,” he says with a sexy growl to his voice.
“Who says I can’t win?”
“Me.”
“That right?”
“Hmm.” He moves in closer, revealing his stunningly blue eyes. “You forget I know exactly where all of your sensitive spots are, Bennett.”
Heat floods me and I squirm. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was until some little minx started tickling me.”
“Minx?” I let out a laugh.
“Yep, that’s you. A minx. Cunning and flirtatious.”
“Flirtatious?” I scoff.
“Yep, flirtatious and irresistible.”
“Meant for you,” I add.
“Fucking right, meant for me.”
His gaze pins me to the seat, possessing me, owning me.
Holding back a gulp, I say, “Well, python, we’re home.” A light smile settles on my lips.
Home.
LA is my home now. It feels strange to say.
The last time I was in LA, the story of Jake’s dad had just broken in the news.
I shudder at the memory.
Jake sits up in his seat, stretching his legs out, his arms go over his head, then one comes down to rest on my shoulder, pulling me to him. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, just wishing we’d had longer together on the island.”
“Me too,” he murmurs, resting his chin on the top of my head. “We’ll go back there again one day real soon.”
“We could take our honeymoon there,” I suggest, optimism filling me, as I look up at him.
“That’s a great idea.” He smiles.
“Guess I need to start planning our wedding, then…or did you want a long engagement?” I bite my lip.
“Fuck no! Baby, we can get married tomorrow if you want. You just say the word and I’ll tell the pilot to take us to Vegas.”
I let out a laugh. “My mother would have a seizure if I got married in Vegas, and my dad would kick your ass for taking away his chance to walk his only child down the aisle.”
“Point taken. I really don’t want an ass-kicking from Billy.”
“Where do you want to get married? Here or the UK?”
“I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “I guess it would be easier to get married here because we live here, but honestly the choice is yours. If you want to get married in Manchester, it’s cool with me. You just tell me the time and the place, baby, and I’ll be there.”
“Am I to take it you’ll be having absolutely no input in this wedding whatsoever?”
“Of course I will,” he says, grinning. “I’ll be organising my bachelor party. No, scrap that. I promised Tom he could do it.”
Tom is the bassist in TMS, one of Jake’s closest friends, and renowned player. The same as Jake was before we got together, but now he’s with me and that’s all behind him. Thankfully.
“Oh God,” I groan. “It’ll be a shagfest, filled with lap dancers and hookers. I’m envisioning Hangover 2 right now.”
Jake laughs. “Ah, give him some credit, baby. It won’t be that bad.”
“If you turn up with a tattoo on your face, telling me you’ve shagged a lady boy, I’m definitely not marrying you.”
He fixes me with a stare. “Sweetheart, if I have to tell you I shagged a lady boy, I’ll be telling you from prison.”