Page 11 of Jake Forever
"No. I'm just wondering, that's all."
"I brought you because you said you wanted to see him."
"Who? Dorian?" At the mention of his name, I felt the first twinge of guilt. I wasn't a fan or anything. But I had been curious. After all, it wasn't every day that a movie star made their way to a place like Detroit.
Jake's gaze probed mine. "You remember what you said?"
Not wanting to answer, I gave a small shrug.
In front of me, Jake waited.
"Oh, alright," I muttered. "I said that if you didn't bring me, I'd show up anyway." I tried to laugh. "But it was just a joke." I glanced away. "Mostly."
"Right." Jake prowled toward me and said, "So you were joking, huh?"
I felt myself swallow. He looked so good, so dangerous, and so damned tempting that I almost forgot why I'd been frustrated in the first place.
Looking at him now, moving toward me in that slow, deliberate way of his, I felt my stomach flutter and my breath catch.
In front of me now, he leaned over me and asked, "You still wanna fight?"
No. Mostly, I wanted to rip off his clothes and show him how very,veryhappy I was that he'd made it out of there alive.
I felt the corners of my mouth give a traitorous lift. "I wasn't fighting."
He moved only slightly closer. Deliberately, he reached out and wound a strand of my hair around his index finger. He lowered his head until our lips were almost touching. "Uh-huh."
My lips parted, and my knees grew weak. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to know for sure that he was real. I wanted to prove to myself that he was okay. And yeah, I wanted a few other things, naked things that I'd be embarrassed to tell my mother.
Wait. Scratch that. My mother was a unique case. Nothing embarrassedher. Unfortunately.
Shaking off the distraction, I lifted my face a fraction closer, waiting for Jake's lips to close the distance.
But he made no move, and the moment stretched out. The air around us became charged with sin and sex and the hint of danger. When he spoke, his voice was low and seductive. "Tell me. You want a nice, safe guy?"
Again, I felt myself swallow. My voice, when I found it, came out more than a little breathless. "What?"
"Admit it. You love it."
If I were coy, I'd ask him what he meant. But I knew exactly what he was getting at. He knew me, maybe better than I knew myself. If given the choice between Jake or a nice, safe guy with a nice, safe life, I'd choose Jake a million times over.
I couldn't help but smile. "Oh, shut up."
His lips were maddeningly close now. "So let me ask you again. You still wanna fight?"
It was long past midnight, and I had to work in the morning. I still hadn't eatenorgotten any of the answers I'd been hoping for. But suddenly, none of that mattered.
I didn't want to fight. I wanted Jake.
And like the bastard he was, he damn well knew it.
I gazed up at him. "What if I want to fight after?"
He gave me a slow, sexy smile. "After what?"
Five minutes later, I was showing him what – first on the nearby sofa, and later in the king-size bed. As for Jake, he showed me plenty of things in return, wonderful things that made me forget everything – the strain of waiting for him, the doubts I had about his long-term safety, and the fact that my life wasn't exactly going the way I planned.
A couple hours later, just before I drifted off to sleep, I felt happy and sated in spite of everything.
Probably, I should've made the most of it, because the next day brought plenty of reasons tonotsmile – and too many of those reasons involved the guy cradling me in his arms.
