Page 112 of Yes No Maybe

Rowan

Jacksaysnothingwhenthe door slides open but steps directly into a full-on kiss that makes my breath hitch and my lower half alight with electric tingles—a power surge through my spine. Pressed tightly together, every muscle in his chest tenses under my fingers, and his veins pop as his hands move over me, arms to back to face like he can’t decide where to touch me. I can’t decide either—my hands cross with his in a strange tangle as I move from his biceps to his neck and then over his cheek. Our intensity causes me to stumble and sends pain jolting through my bum ankle, breaking our kiss.

“You okay?” He hovers near my lips like he doesn’t want to venture too far away.

“I’m so okay.I’ve never had a better day, either. Stay with me.”

“Always.” His forehead rests against mine, and his dark eyes penetrate me. “I’m yours. Whatever you want.”

“Is this the part where I tell youexactlywhat to do?” A breathless chuckle escapes, teasing about his best-sex-ever story.

He laughs, pressing further against me while his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt. “If you wish. I promise to be extremelyattentive.”

The word inspires a giggle. His fingertips dance over my stomach, making my heart race and forcing a sharp inhale.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his hand rising under my shirt, his fingers edging lightly over the top of my lacy bra.

“You already know,” I gasp as his finger delicately brushes the hard tip of my breast.

His brow cocks curiously as I untuck his shirt and hook him closer by his waistband. His muscles tense under my touch, and his lips curl as they close in on mine. “Do I?”

A coy grin rises on my flushed cheeks. “I want to be ravished, cherished, and fucking adored.”

He laughs, his fingers sweeping across my chest like feathers. “Anything else?”

“Yes… I want toseeyou.” Even admitting that aloud arouses me.

With a low rumble like a purr, he pushes me against the back of the couch in a wild, tongue-laced kiss. A soft moan ekes out when I wobble on my leg again.

He leans over and scoops me up. “Hold on to me.”

My hands loop around his neck, and my head rests against his shoulder. It feels like a damsel-in-distress moment, but one I definitely like. I’m weightless as he swings me across the living room and down the hall, careful of my dangling feet.

He sets me on the bed’s edge, and standing before me, he kicks off his shoes and pulls off his shirt. The soft bedroom light illuminates his form and the artwork across his chest. Lifting to my knees on the bed’s edge, I run my fingers over the fiery books on his arm before kissing them. Vines with thorns and wilting flowers travel over his arms and torso, connecting the images together. My mouth slowly travels upwards, whispering the book titles between kisses.

“Fahrenheit 451.” My fingertips trace the next ones—The Cheshire Cat, a triangle with a Big Brother eye and a hand holding the skull of Yorick. “Alice in Wonderland, 1984, Hamlet.”

He watches me intently, submissively, letting me do just as I want. I switch to his other arm, resting his hand against my hip as my tongue follows the artful patterns. “The Lord of the Flies, And Then There Were None, The Black Cat,” I whisper. I smile as goosebumps appear under my breath.

He moans sharply when my kisses grow more intense over his neck and collarbone. Nibbling him. Tasting him. Letting my tongue drift over the veins popping across his chest. His hands wrap around my thighs and up my skirt, kneading me with his fingers.

Over his heart, I trace the outline of theCalvin and Hobbesversion of him and his brother headed toward the baseball field before resting my head against it and giving it a soft kiss.

My lips travel lower on his chest. “To Kill a Mockingbird,Harry Potter,The Hunger Games.”

The images end over his rippled abdomen. “Turn around,” I say. His hands drag over me as he obeys.

The vines and flowers wrap around him, framing his largest tattoo like a window.

“The Lonely Mountain fromThe Hobbit.” Silhouettes of the ragtag dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf climb up the side while Smaug hovers at the top. The dragon is red with yellow eyes, and the detail is exquisite—each scale, every tooth, the red and orange fire escaping his mouth.

“Devin’s favorite book,” Jack says as I trace the images. “When he was at his worst, it was the only book he’d let me read to him.The Hobbitwas Devin’s heaven… or at least, what he hoped it’d be like. I hope he’s fighting orcs right now.”

“Or being ravished by a hot elf,” I say with a small laugh, missing someone I never met.

Jack turns in my hands, and I look up at him. “Yeah, he’d probably enjoy that more. Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, don’t. You’re beautiful.” It’s all I can think to say. He is all muscle and art and slick warmth. The longing in his eyes grows as I undo his pants and pull them down. He kicks them away at his feet, leaving only his boxer briefs.

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