Page 11 of Holding Out For A Holiday Hero

His hand went to the buckle of his jeans. “Just gonna get comfortable,” he murmured.

He was aroused. Very aroused. Because her eyes had dropped to the front of his jeans automatically—when his hands moved, her eyes had moved, too. There was no missing the long, thick cock that pushed forward.

“If you need me, True, I’ll be right out here.”

He undid the buckle. She bolted for the bedroom. True shut the door—more like slammed it—even as her heart raced in her chest. Jake Hale had just said that he’d had a crush on her. Jake Hale wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

Jake Hale had an insane body.

And I want to know what it’s like to kiss him, too.

Only, instead of giving in to the need that had been inside True since her teenage years, she’d just run from him.

Story of her life. Always being too afraid to reach out for what she really wanted. Even when he was right there.

Well, he’d certainly fucked that up.

Jake sprawled on the couch—with his legs dangling off the left armrest and over the edge because the freaking thing was too small for him—and he glared at the ceiling. He had True in his home. She’d been smiling and chatting with him.

Then he’d fucked things to hell and back. Just confessing about the old crush had sent her running at double-time speed away from him. Fine. Message received. Despite the cues that he’d thought he might be picking up on, True was not interested in him.

One hundred percent, not.

He lifted his wrist and glared at the glow-in-the-dark watch screen. Midnight. It was gonna be one long night. He hauled off the watch and dropped it on the floor beside him. His dick was hard and aching, and no relief would be in sight.

Way to send her running. He should have kept his stupid mouth shut.

Creak.

Jake tensed. Had that just been the bedroom door opening?

The floor squeaked. He knew that squeaky spot. It was three steps in front of his bedroom.

He did not move. Maybe True was just heading to the kitchen for a glass of water or something. Just because he heard her tiptoeing around, it did not mean that the woman was coming to talk to him. Definitely did not mean that she’d suddenly decided she couldn’t live without him for another moment and that she planned to jump him.

“Jake?” A hushed whisper. The living room was dark, but he could make out her shadowy form as she stood near the side of the sofa. “Are you asleep?”

Hell, no. He was awake and in frustrated, sexual agony.

“Bad idea,” she murmured. True began to turn away.

His hand flew out and locked around her wrist. “I like bad ideas.” Loved them, in fact. His favorite ideas were bad. “You got something you need to say?”

“I…” A soft sigh. “I have a confession.”

Go on. He squinted as he tried to see her better in the dark. Was she wearing his t-shirt? Oh, yes, he thought that she was. Sexy as hell.

“You weren’t the only one with a crush in high school.” A husky reveal. “I watched you, far more than I should have. And I might’ve had some fantasies about you.”

Fantasies? His dick saluted extra hard.

“I had a crush on you. And I have often wondered…just how you would taste, too.”

How was a man supposed to resist a confession like that one?

“Just wanted you to know,” she added, a little breathless. True tried to tug her wrist from his grip. “Uh, good night.”

Uh, no.

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