Page 50 of Look What You Made Me Do

The game finally came to an end when he potted the black with a resounding thud. It was 4a.m. He was tired. And horny. He needed to get the hell away from her. Maybe he could dig out his little black book and ring one of a dozen women who would welcome a booty call even at this hour.

“Another?”

Jake opened his mouth to say no.

No way. No how. No siree. There was Alicia and Candice and Jennifer – three women he could name off the top of his head.

“A proper one. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

His jersey slipped off her shoulder again and his honey, you have so not gotten this was snatched away as the brain in his pants took over.

“Sure.”

Jake cursed himself as he retrieved the balls and racked them up in the triangle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Can I break?” she asked as Roberta Flack started singing about a guy who sang a good song.

“Yup.”

He stepped back a pace as she stood at the head of the table with him. Bending over, she balanced the tip of her cue between her second and third knuckles just as he’d taught her and he waited for her to take the damn shot and move away.

But she didn’t. She straightened and turned until she was facing him. “Thank you,” she said. “For before. For rescuing me from Roger. And being so… nice, in your office. I seem to make a habit of saving my meltdowns for you.”

Jake felt like a complete asshole, thinking with his dick while she’d been working herself up to this. “Of course,” he dismissed. “I’m just sorry you had to be exposed to his crap. I should have kicked his ass out the second I saw him.”

“Oh yeah?” She smiled. “On what grounds?”

“Being a dickwad.”

“You’d have to kick out half your clientele on that basis.”

They both laughed then and she looked so carefree the urge to lean in and kiss her rode him hard. He didn’t and the opportunity passed as she turned to line up the break shot.

Which she, naturally, screwed up.

Jake sighed as he hauled his gaze off her ass, so beautifully rounded and so very, very near. “Why don’t we try that again?”

Using the triangle, he mustered the couple of balls that had managed to escape during the most pathetic break he’d ever witnessed. And then, because a part of him couldn’t bear to watch her screw it up again – but mostly because he was weak – he leaned over her as she bent again to take the shot.

“Let me show you,” he offered.

He half expected her to protest. To displace him. But she didn’t, so he fitted his body snuggly against hers, his stomach and chest pressed along the length of her back, his crotch lining up with her ass like they were made to fit together even though he deliberately kept his distance down there.

“Like this.”

Jake forced the tremulous tone from his voice, determined to stay business-like even though the silky caress of her hair and the aroma of warm hops wafting off her skin were digging seductive fingernails into his resistance.

“You don’t have enough control of your stick,” he murmured, feeling like a total hypocrite. At the moment he was damned sure she had better control of hers than he had of his.

“You have to slide it like this.” Jake demonstrated the motion, gliding the cue between her knuckles, smooth and easy.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Jake thought he heard something remarkably like a whimper reverberate in the back of her throat and his hand tightened on the cue. Her smell was intoxicating and it took all his willpower not to drop his head and bury his face in her neck.

“See what I mean?”

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