Page 49 of Love & Rockets

“He’s still a jerk, but Brooke is getting him straightened out little by little,” he said, removing the paper towel covering the second plate, he gave the food an experimental poke with the tines of his fork. Easier than looking directly at her as she rejected him once again. “You know what I’m asking, Darla. Would you and Grace like to come to dinner at my parents’ house?”

Silence stretched long and taut between them. Jake recognized the taste and texture of rejection immediately. They hadn’t shared this kind of awkward gap since their first night together. A quiet tinged with wariness, uncertainty, and more than a hint of bitterness. When he looked up, he found her shaking her head, her gaze fixed on the plate she held.

“I don’t think I’m as hungry as I thought.”

Tossing his fork onto his untouched plate, he wiped his hands on one of the crumpled paper towels. “Me either.”

She drew a deep breath. The kind that said her mind was made up. And, as if she knew he’d need at least some closure on all talk of legitimizing their affair, she tipped her chin up, dark eyes flashing with challenge. “Back to bed?”

He shrugged as if she hadn’t gutted him and took the plate from her unresisting hands. “Sure. Why not?”

What man in his right mind turned down strings-free sex? Not him. He might be an idiot, but he was no fool. And if this turned out to be the last time he’d ever make love to Darla Kennet, he wanted to make damn sure they both remembered how good things were between them.

Pressing his hand to the small of her back, he propelled her down the short hall to the bedroom. Though it made his heart turn over, he refused to buy into the joy of her giggle when she had to do a quick-step to stay ahead of him. As he opened the buttons on the shirt she’d swiped from him, he forced all thoughts of the tangle they’d found themselves in their first night together from his mind. This night wasn’t going to be a bumbling, fumbling attempt to get something started.

No, tonight had to be the beginning of the end. He didn’t want to hide from his family or the world any longer. And he wouldn’t let her hide from him. Not this time.

Ignoring the urgent press of her lips against his, he kissed her soft and long, taking his own sweet time. He kissed the corners of her mouth and they curved up. He drew lightly on her full upper lip and she moaned. He kissed her over and over, using up every last ounce of patience he had. Despite her wriggling and sometimes overt posturing, he stayed steady on the assault. He tasted the sleek, creamy column of her throat, nipped at unspeakably soft earlobes, and sucked the pulse throbbing beneath her jaw to the point where she squirmed away.

He cupped her breasts, marveling at the sheer bounty of them. They filled his palms, heavy and ripe. Dark pink nipples rippled and furled up tight. He covered one with his mouth, savoring the rasp of the hard tip against his tongue, then groaning deep in his throat as the flesh grew warm and pliant again under his ministration. Wanting to keep her riding the same razor-sharp edge of need, he released her breast with a loud pop, then blew a gust of cool air over the damp skin.

Darla pressed her heels into the bed, arching her body up while pulling his head down to her breast once more. Or, at least, trying to pull him down. But she wouldn’t yield to his needs, so Jake saw no reason to give in to hers.

Let her ache for him. Let her want.

Empowered by the perverse pleasure he found in denying her the way she denied him, he shifted lower on the bed. He peppered her stomach with kisses, even though he knew she was ticklish there. Nestling his dick into the rumpled sheet rather than the plush warmth of her thigh, he looked up at her as he tongued her navel, daring her to stop him from doing exactly what he wanted with her.

She didn’t.

Pinned beneath him, Darla writhed and bucked. Demanding. Always demanding. And he gave in to her every time. Giving her exactly what she wanted and taking what he could get. Since the night of their first date, she hadn’t kissed him first. Time after time, he’d worshiped at the altar of her body with his hands and his mouth, but she seldom did more than run her hands over him. And then, they were only those maddeningly cautious, feather-light strokes that made him hard and left him aching for more long after they were done.

Blind with need and frustration, he ground against the bed as he slipped lower still. He nuzzled the tangle of dark curls. The hellish part was, he loved touching her, stroking her, and kissing her until she was his to command. She wanted him. He had no doubt. She liked him. He knew for certain. But he wanted more. He wanted her to love him.

All of him.

All the time.

Not only on Friday nights after Grace had gone to stay with Connie Cade.

He wanted her to want to be with him past nine on Saturday morning.

Growling as the realization struck home, he buried his face in her sweet folds. Darla moaned and spread her legs wider, opening her body to him even though she refused to open her heart. He ran his tongue from her bottom up to her clit, then held, pressing into to the hyper-sensitive flesh unmoving. Then, it occurred to him that, in all the times they’d had sex in this very bed, not once had she ever gone down on him.

The thought struck him like a blow, and not the good kind. Lifting his head, he turned and pressed a hard, angry kiss to the inside of her thigh. Then he pushed up and began to crawl over her, ignoring her protests and questions until he knelt straddling her chest. His dick bobbed and a ripple of excitement pulsed through him when he saw the flash of panic in Darla’s eyes.

“You never suck me.”

“I, uh—” She licked already wet lips, then eyed his dick with trepidation. Her hesitation made him feel like a caveman and a god all at the same time. “Sure I have,” she blustered. She tried to shrug, but he had her arms pinned to the bed with his shins. “I know I—”

“Not once.”

Her jaw snapped shut and she glared up at him, mutiny written all over her face.

“Do I repulse you?”

He asked the question in a mild tone. She could answer in the affirmative if she wanted to, but he knew the truth. Her desire was evident in the way her hungry gaze traveled over him. All over him. When she didn’t answer, he smiled down at her. But not a happy smile. Or even a triumphant one. It was the flavorless smile of a man who already knew the answers but appreciated confirmation nonetheless.

Shifting his weight, he rose onto his knees and loomed over her. From this angle, his dick looked obscene, superimposed over her pretty, pixie face. But he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, Darla taking only what she wanted from him was every bit as wrong as demanding she reciprocate. Sexually, at the very least.

---