Page 12 of Off-Limits

He pauses for a moment before speaking again, and when he does, it's like he's choosing his words carefully. "What did she want?"

I roll my eyes, annoyance flashing through me at his interrogation. "She wants me to be her plus-one for a wedding this weekend," I say, turning away from him and starting to clear the rest of the dishes from the table. "And before you ask, no, it's not anyone I know or care about. It's just something to do."

Jake doesn't respond immediately, and I can feel his eyes on me as I move around the kitchen. I'm not even sure what I'm doing. When he finally does speak again, there's a tightness in his voice that makes my stomach churn nervously.

"I'll go with you," he says, matter-of-fact.

I spin around to face him, shocked by his sudden announcement. No way he's going with me. He has no reason to.He should… I don't know. Anything but coming with me. "What? No," I say, shaking my head automatically. "No fucking way."

His expression darkens at my refusal, and he takes a step closer to me, invading my personal space. It's something he's used to doing by now. "Why not?" he challenges me, his eyes blazing with an emotion I can't quite put my finger on.

I swallow hard, too aware of how close we are standing to each other and of the fact that Jake is, once again, wearing clothes that favor his muscular physique.

"Because..." I start, struggling to find the words. "Because you're... you."

Jake raises an eyebrow at my explanation, clearly waiting for me to elaborate. But how can I explain that being around him is torture? That every moment we spend together only makes it harder for me to ignore the attraction between us?

Not to mention I'm pretty sure he already knows that, anyway. I don't need to explain something he's aware of.

"Me?" he asks, his voice soft as he takes another step closer. One more and I just might bitch slap him.

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. "You," I repeat, lamely.

He studies me for a moment before speaking again, and this time there's a hint of humor in his voice. "Is that supposed to make sense?"

I glare at him, frustrated by his inability to see things from my perspective, or maybe he does and still uses that to his advantage. "It does if you know what I mean," I mutter, turning away from him.

Jake reaches out and grabs hold of my wrist before I can move too far away, pulling me back towards him until we'restanding inches apart. His eyes are dark with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body as if he's a furnace.

"You know what I think?" he says softly, leaning down so that his mouth is mere centimeters from mine. "I think you're scared."

My heart hammers wildly in my chest at his words and at the proximity of his lips to mine. I can't believe this is happening and that we are doing this. It's insane. He should be arrested or something. "Scared of what?" I whisper, barely able to get the words out.

He doesn't answer right away, instead taking a moment to study me closely. His gaze lingers on my face, tracing the curve of my cheekbones and the fullness of my lips before dropping down to my neck and chest and the tee that's doing little to hide what's underneath.

I should've put something on today, but then again, it's hot, and I wasn't thinking about that when I woke up.

When his eyes finally meet mine again, there's a heat in them that makes me shiver involuntarily. "Of this," he says, his voice low as he takes another step closer, his body now pressing against mine.

I consider slapping him, but then chicken out. I have no idea what he would do if that happened.

I gasp at the contact, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Jake's hands find their way to my hips, pulling me even closer as if daring me to push him away—to prove that I'm not scared of whatever it is he thinks I am.

But the truth is, I am scared, not of him, but of what being this close to him does to me. Of the way his touch sends electricshocks coursing through my veins and makes my knees go weak. Of the fact that every fiber of my being wants more, more of his hands on my body, and especially more of his lips on mine.

"You can't be serious," I manage to say as I fight to maintain some semblance of control over myself. "Why would you even want to go with me?"

Have I already asked him that question? Did he answer me? I have no idea. I'm so nervous that my memory is foggy and I can't remember much.

Jake's expression softens slightly at the question, and he takes one hand off my hip long enough to brush a strand of hair away from my face, a gesture that feels surprisingly intimate.

I don't understand him. Yesterday, he left me after saying we shouldn't be doing this, and now he's pressing himself against me and threatening to kiss me. It's confusing.

"Because," he whispers, his eyes locked with mine, "you're going to be there alone with your friend and with no one to watch out for you."

I blink at him in confusion, taken aback by the almost parental tone of his voice. "Watch out for me?" I repeat, incredulously. "Jake, I'm a grown woman. I don't need anyone watching out for me."

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair before speaking again. "I know that," he says, his voice tight with frustration. "But... but Ryan asked me to look after you while he's gone. And I can't just stand by and let you go off alone without knowing for sure that you'll be okay."

---