Page 152 of Controlled Burn
Didn’t pause.
Just pressed his hand between her legs—slow, possessive—feeling the damp cotton cling to her.
“You pretend you don’t want this,” he whispered. “But your body tells the truth.”
She gasped, hips jerking at the contact—reflex, an invitation she hated herself for.
Shame crawled up her spine, but heat bloomed with it, hot and molten, betraying her.
He pushed her panties aside.
Her breath hitched as his fingers slid along her slit—hot, slick, trembling.
And froze. Tight.
His brows lifted, something greedy curling behind his eyes.
“Jesus… Have you ever let anyone touch you before?”
She shook her head. Too fast. Tears brimming already.
“No,” she whispered. “I—I haven’t—”
She didn’t finish the sentence. Shame ate the rest.
Jake’s eyes darkened.
“All those Sunday mornings. All that praying. Did you ever think about sinning while you were sitting next to your daddy?”
He thrust a finger inside her.
She gasped—a sound torn from the back of her throat.
Her hands flew to the edge of the counter. White-knuckled. Breath held.
“Please—Jake—” she whimpered.
“You want me to stop?”
He didn’t whisper it like a threat. He asked it like a choice.
Kennedy hesitated. Chewed her bottom lip. Looked down.
“No,” she whispered. “I just…”
Her voice trailed into silence, but her body said the rest. Her thighs trembled. Her hips tilted forward before she could stop them.
He didn’t wait for her to finish. Slid his hand lower.
Her breath hitched. Her hips flinched—but didn’t retreat.
“You pretend you don’t want this,” he murmured against her ear, “but your body’s not very good at lying.”
But her voice didn’t rise. She didn’t scream. She locked up—body frozen, eyes clenched shut—yet the pressure between her legs betrayed her with a pulse of want she despised.
Still.
No.
