She gives me a funny look. “Well, yeah. Because clearly you…”
“Clearly I nothing.” I touch her, slip my fingers into her hair and push it away from her forehead gently. She leans into my touch, her eyes sliding to half-mast. “I never stopped wanting you, Jade,” I murmur. “Ever.”
“It felt like you did,” she admits softly. “I thought I didn’t…please you. After what happened, it’s like you didn’t want to have anything to do with me ever again. I figured that was all on me.”
I close my eyes for a brief moment and breathe deep. Guilt settles over me heavily. That she’s in my room at this very moment, giving me another chance…I should get on my knees and thank the lord above. “I’m an asshole. I—panicked.”
She frowns up at me, appearing genuinely confused. “Panicked? Why?”
How do I explain that she scares the hell out of me? How my feelings for her scare me even worse? “I don’t know.” I shrug. I’m such a liar.
Slowly she stands, her body rubbing against mine, her gaze intent. I don’t back up, don’t move away from her and she’s so close, I absorb her body heat, inhale her sweet, clean scent, and my hands automatically settle on her hips.
“I’m probably going to regret this,” she whispers as she settles her hands on my chest. Her fingers are hot, burning through my T-shirt, branding me and I wait in anticipation of what she’s going to say next. “This won’t end good for us, I know it. But—”
I don’t even give her a chance to finish the sentence. I don’t care about the explanation, the worry or fears she might be experiencing. All I can concentrate on is how she’s looking at me, how good she feels pressed next to me. I bend my head and kiss her, cutting off her words, thrusting my tongue in her mouth, triumph surging through me when she melts into me, her hands slipping beneath my T-shirt to touch my bare skin.
I’ve got her.
And I’m not about to let her go.
He’s kissing me. I’m in Shep’s bedroom—again—and he’s touching me, kissing me, seducing me. Again. And I’m letting it happen. I’m giving in gleefully, as if what he did to me only a few days ago doesn’t matter any longer.
It doesn’t. At least, not tonight. I’m taking my opportunities where I can find them and if he ends up hurting me, tossing me aside and forgetting all about me, then so be it. I like this guy. I want this guy.
For some wild and crazy reason, he seems to like and want me too.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he runs his mouth along my jaw, down my neck. I like that he keeps apologizing too. Makes me think he really does regret how he treated me the night of the blowjob fail. Though is it really a fail when the guy comes in your mouth? I don’t think so. “I don’t know why I acted like such a prick that night.”
I say nothing. Just revel in his mouth on my skin, his wandering hands. Oh, I love it when he touches me like this. He just takes completely over, there’s no hesitancy, no awkwardness. My past sexual experiences were all about hesitancy and awkwardness. That part sucked. Most of it sucked. I always got performance anxiety and felt like I couldn’t measure up.
Oh, and orgasms? Forget it. I seriously don’t think I can come with a guy. On my own, yes, but otherwise? No can do.
With Shep, I tend to forget my hang-ups. All I can concentrate on is his lips on mine, his busy hands, his hard body…
“I want to make it up to you,” he continues, his fingers tugging on the hem of my shirt. Slowly he pulls it up, past my stomach, the fabric catching on my breasts before I lift my arms over my head and he tugs the tank completely off my body, letting it fall to the floor.
His gaze lands on my bra-covered chest and he stares blatantly at my breasts, his eyes lighting up like a little kid who just caught sight of the pile of presents beneath the tree on Christmas morning. I’m tempted to cross my arms in front of my chest but he’d only make me drop them so I don’t. I stand there, letting him look his fill, eager for him to say something, anything to move this moment along.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes glowing as they lift to meet mine. “Take off the shorts, Jade.”
Shock and arousal rushes through me at the tone of his voice, the command of his words. Here he goes being bossy again and without hesitation I do as he asks, shedding the shorts and kicking them off, so I’m standing in front of him wearing nothing but my black lace bra and the matching panties.
That I picked out and wore tonight just for him, in the hopes that he’d see me like this. Matching bra and panties is so not my style.
I’m bad. I planned for all of this. I wanted him to see me, to chase after me, to beg me for forgiveness. I wanted to give in and have him take me back to his place and strip off my clothes and…
“Lay back on the bed.” He swallows hard and works his jaw, his eyes never leaving me. He rests his hands on his hips, standing at the foot of the bed, foreboding and sexy and oh my God, I can’t believe this is really happening.
In fact, I’m starting to freak out just the slightest bit. Frowning, I ask, “Why?” Worry trickles inside of me and I tell myself to get over it.
But I can’t help it. Old habits die hard.
“Just do it,” he commands, his voice softening the slightest bit, as do his eyes. “Please.”
Is it wrong that I really love it when he says please? When he looks so tortured by my mere presence on his bed? Do I really have that much power over him? Because if I do?