Page 35 of Love & Rockets

Jake climbed onto the bed fully clothed, loving the way she melted back onto the mattress as he advanced. “I’m gonna kiss you. Everywhere,” he whispered, almost lost in the very thought of tasting every inch of her skin. “Lick you.” He lowered his head until his mouth hovered over hers. In the car, she’d tasted faintly like wine, and though he was more of a beer guy, he’d gladly sip it from her until he was drunk. “I want to be inside you, Darla.”

Her low moan told him he was hitting all the right points.

Knowing he was taking a calculated risk, he shot for the moon. “Kiss you and lick you and make you come so hard you see stars.”

This time, she answered with more of a strangled keening noise. Jake opted to take it as a good sign. In the absence of absolute proof, all else was possibility.

“May I?” He brushed a coaxing kiss across her parted lips. His muscles quivered with the restraint it took to pull back rather than dive into her. “I want you so much.”

“Yes,” she answered with an eagerness that nearly made him jump right out of his skin.

High on her acquiescence and unwilling to risk any clumsiness on his part, Jake determined the best course of action was to take matters into his own hands. “Stay right here,” he ordered, then shoved himself up and off the bed.

Of course, Darla was never one to do as she was told. The minute he peeled himself off her, she rolled up onto her elbows. “Where are you going?”

“Right here.” Yanking at the knot in his tie, he loosened the knot enough to slip out of the noose.

“But I want to—”

“No.” He backed the refusal with a sharp shake of his head and started to work on his shirt buttons. Four down, he yanked the tails from his pants and hauled both his shirt and undershirt over his head in one jerk. Unfortunately, he forgot about his cuffs.

“Holy crap.”

Jake dropped his arms, the tangle of fabric twisted between his cuffed wrists. “What?”

Darla pushed into a sitting position, her eyes locked on his midsection.

Following her gaze, he dropped his chin to his chest. Too hairy? Not hairy enough? Did he have a third nipple he’d never noticed? “What’s wrong?”

“You’re ripped,” she said, pointing at his stomach.

Puzzled by the accusation in her tone, he looked down. “What? No, I’m not.”

“Okay, maybe not like bodybuilder ripped, but there’s definitely a six pack there.”

Before he could figure out why being fit might be a problem, she scooted to the edge of the bed and pressed one small hand to his stomach. He inhaled reflexively and she laughed full and throaty.

“Yeah, that’s right. Suck in your gut,” she teased. “Holy old crow, how does a guy who spends all his time messing with math problems with more letters than the alphabet end up looking like this?” Lifting her head, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve seen how much you eat.”

Jake blew out the breath and let his shoulders drop. “I run most nights.”

Still eying him closely, Darla ran both hands up his arms to his biceps then squeezed. “Running doesn’t give a guy muscles like these. Neither does a gym.”

He gave one hand a tug, but as he feared, the shirt held fast. Figuring he might be able to distract her as he worked through the predicament, he shrugged. And flexed. Just a little bit. “I do some construction work in my free time.”

“Oh, yeah. Harley mentioned you’d been working with Home Again.” Darla hummed her appreciation as she ran her hands over his shoulders. “Smart, hot, ripped and a social conscience.” She batted her eyelashes. “I may swoon for real.”

“My hands are stuck in my shirt.”

Darla blinked, then her hands fell to her lap as she looked down at the snarl of material holding him captive. Pursing her lips, she studied his situation with concern so grave he could feel her laughter vibrating inside her. At last she tapped a finger to those rosy lips and drawled, “My, now this does present some interesting opportunities.”

“Darla—”

Undaunted by the warning in his tone, she reached for the buckle on his belt. He tried to block her with the shirts, but gave up with a groan when her knuckles grazed his dick. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall forward, then roll back. Darla dragged his zipper down, and there and then he realized his astronaut friends had the right idea. He needed to strap in, hang on, and go along for the ride.

Warm, moist breath stirred the hair on his stomach. The weight of his belt pulled at his suit pants. She slid one finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs and pressed her lips to one incredibly lucky patch of skin above his navel. She slid the teasing finger almost the full circumference of his waist. Almost, but not quite. He held his breath as she trailed the tip of that intrepid finger over the fabric covering his erection.

“What if I want you to see stars, too?”

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