Page 65 of Born in the Spring

Jasper

I’ve been riding on this high of theentireweek feeling like a win. My work load—and Elara’s—has been a nice balance. The ground has been mostly steady under my feet.

And every night is a Saturday night now.

Elara has come to my lodge almost every one. We still haven’t moved past the couch, or past our clothes, and the amount of times I’ve had to jerk off is more than ever, but almost daily blue balls is minor compared to howgoodit feels just to have her.Everythingwith her has been worth the wait.

She needed more sleep last night—and I’d never been more flattered to be calledexhausting—so she decided not to come. So I decided to get out of bed earlier than I know she does and lure her back with a text promising her new favorite breakfast. She won’t want to waste something already cooked.

My door clicks closed as I’m plating her second egg—two, and no more than that. One for both pieces of toast, that’s already plated and buttered and jammed and waiting on theisland.

I face Elara and lose air at first sight, then get it back with one shallow inhale at a time as I take her in. Her hair is in loose waves around her face and down her shoulders, silky strands my hands are now more than familiar with and dying to have back in my grip. Her top and leggings are snug against every curve that my body is dying to be realigned with.

“That smell is still heaven,” she announces through a drawn out moan that tightens my pajama pants.

I breathe a laugh that comes out more like a frustrated sigh as I meet her at the island and set the eggs beside the toast. “If this is your aphrodisiac, you might want to hold in those sounds.”

Her fingers pause around grabbing a piece of toast, as she plays off the tease in my voice with a daring curve in her mouth. “And if I can’t?”

“Then I can’t be held responsible for my actions, either.”

She takes another pause, now with the toast at her parted, but still curved mouth, then with her eyes locked on mine, she bites down. My pants stretch even tighter as her tongue peeks out to guide the torn piece between her lips. Her finger moves in next for a slow swipe of fallen jam, and my lungs seize as she sucks it off.

Holy fucking shit.If that food is her aphrodisiac, watching her eat it is mine.

And I won’t survive it. This peaked desire for her, surging hot throughmy veins. My heart trying to beat out of my chest. That thrum between us its strongest tug.

But I can’t turn around. Iwon’tturn around. Not with the way she’s still holding my gaze, her hold on the toast slipping back down to the plate. Not with the increasing spikes in herown breathing.

Not with her own desire for me surging just as hot under her flushed skin.

Not with how her body is telling me she won’t survive this, either.

Elara

His throat bobs as his fingers curl into the island top.

My own swallow is a gulp. My fingers curl around my plate as I push down the last chunk of strawberry from my bite, licking some sticky from my lips, the bottom one staying bitten between my teeth, the fruit from this kitchen tasting so much sweeter.

From being served by him—Jasper, standing in front of me in another deliciously snug fitting shirt and a stare so soft, yet so intense with his wanting.

The veil has already lifted over my heart, bringing me to him more than the parts of me I’ve been muting say I should, but I’ve kept pushing a brake on how far I let myself explore him, which has limited his exploration of me.

But now that limit is falling away, as the heat in my returning stare gives away how much harder it’s getting to push those brakes. My own wanting is no longer just an ache between my legs, but all over my body, pangs begging to be fully released to his capable hands.

He’s even taken over my dreams. More than he used to. He’s here in the light, andeverywherein the dark.

His gaze perks with intrigue when my mouth moves, but Imove next, blowing a breath from my lips as I round the island to reach the eggs—and he’s behind me instantly, boxing me in, both of his hands now curled, centimeters from mine. His chest is warm and sturdy against my back, another solid thing for me to lean on as that thing itself unravels me.

“Say it,” he urges at my ear. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” My fingers tap an anticipating tune against the island top as his shift closer. “What was the thought you just had, Elara?”

I sigh into him, my eyes closing as what I attempt to be a playful scolding is more a breathed confession. “You’re so sexy it hurts.”

His hands are on me, one at my hip and one at my face. My eyes pop open as his finger runs slow down my mouth, the motion parting my lips and angling my head into the touch.

“I don’t have to just kiss you here.” His voice is rough, raising goosebumps along my sensitive skin as he hooks both of his thumbs inside the waistband of my leggings. “Let me take these off. Let me lick the ache away.”

My neediness doesn’t let me hesitate as I lean forward, a lift in my ass as I open my thighs, as if my leggings are already off, every ache singing for that promise of a reprieve.

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