The pain in my chest is unbearable. I feel like I’m crushing under the weight of my worst fear realised.
If he says we’re over, I will beg him.
Jake turns back to me, a determinedness set in his face. “Well, breaking up isn’t even an option, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I shake my head. Tears are starting to blur my eyes.
He walks to me. Taking my face in his hands, staring down at me, he whispers, “I’m not losing you, ever. I know I f**k up regularly, but I can’t f**k us up.”
“You don’t f**k up regularly.”
“I made a mistake tonight.”
What? Oh God. No.
I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.
“You did?” I swallow.
“Yep. A big f**kin’ one. I didn’t tell you how amazingly beautiful you looked the instant I saw you tonight. I was so damn worried about other men looking at you, that I spoke before I thought and I made you feel self-conscious instead of making you feel as beautiful as you are.” He strokes his thumb over my cheek.
I let out the breath I was holding.
“I’m sorry I was a bitch tonight,” I whisper, pulling my eyes from his. “Just hearing those women talking about you like that, it threw me off guard. Then I came out of the bathroom and saw you talking to Dina. I just felt all torn up inside. I guess I did dance with Jefferson to piss you off.” Biting my lip, I look back to him. “I am sorry. Really.”
He presses his lips to my forehead. “I wish I could take all those years back so you weren’t having to live them now,” he says over my skin, his warm breath soothing me. “But I swear to you, I’m not that person anymore. You have me, like no one before. You have me where it counts.” Taking my hand, he rests it over his T-shirt, over his heart. “You hold this in the palm of your hand. You are the only woman who has ever had it, and ever will. You own me, Tru.”
“You own me too. Completely.”
Jake stares down at me, his eyes flicker to my lips, and I feel a sudden heated charge ignite between us. Like the anger of tonight has flared up and turned into raging sexual tension. I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly we’re kissing, like we’ve never kissed before.
It’s uncoordinated and desperate. No tenderness. This is hard, starved-for-each-other kissing.
Mouths slipping over each other’s, Jake’s hand takes hold of my neck. Thumb against my throat, he tilts my head back farther, giving him better access. His tongue is plunging deep into my mouth, practically f**king it, and I love it.
I’m all but climbing his body trying to get closer to him. My hands are everywhere.
Jake’s mouth moves from mine, down my neck, biting and sucking. I moan and grind myself against his erection, wanting him badly.
His hand moves down, tracing the cup of my bra through the sheer fabric of my top.
I reach my hand lower, cupping him through his jeans. Jake groans and pushes himself into my hand.
I’m just about to open his zipper, when he steps back, breaking contact.
My heart is beating out of my chest and nearly leaps from it when he says, “Lose the clothes, sweetheart, and sit up on the hood.”
My eyes are fixed to his. I’m lost in him totally and completely. We are outside, and Jake wants us to have sex on the hood of his car.
Honestly, I can’t wait to sit myself up there.
I lose all my inhibitions around Jake. There is nothing I fear doing when I’m with him. Or fearing doing for him.
I pull my top over my head, dropping it on the car, then unzip my skirt at the back, pushing it down over my hips.
I watch Jake watching me, loving the way his eyes devour every naked inch that I reveal to him.
No one has ever looked at me before the way he does. Like I am the only person in the whole world. That having me—being inside me—is the only thing that will ever matter to him.
Stepping out of my skirt, I pick it up and drop it on the car.
I’m about to kick my shoes off, when Jake says in a rough voice, “Keep the heels on.”
I step back, letting my ass meet with the car. I sit up on it, hooking my heels into the bumper, the paintwork warm on my skin from the heat of the engine.
Now I’m closer to the car, I can make out the song that has just started to play. “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard.
Jake obviously registers the song too, because the tilt of his head and the inferred smile he gives practically has me wetting my panties.
Holy f**k.
Jake approaches, removing his T-shirt as he does. He tosses it onto the car and moves past me. My eyes follow him as he leans in through the open window.
I hear the music grow louder.
Then Jake is back, coming to stand between my legs, he leans against me, chest on chest, reaching over my shoulder, he grabs for something, and then I feel the silky fabric of my top brush over my skin.
“Do you trust me?” he murmurs.
My body starts to tremble, knowing where he’s going with this.
I nod slowly, my eyes captivated by his.
I watch as Jake twists my silk top into a thin strip of fabric. He brings it to rest over my eyes, tying it in a tight knot at the back of my head.
“Lie back,” he whispers in my ear.
I do as he says, my whole body quaking with nerves and sexual excitement.
We’re out in the open. Dave is at the top of the track, playing guard. I’m blindfolded by my own top, and Jake is about to make love to me on his sexy Aston Martin with “Pour Some Sugar on Me” playing in the background.