Page 88 of Tuned To Break
Stella
On my way home now. Hope you’re ready to finish what you started.
Jake
Born ready, darl. Always.
My heart skips.
I grip the wheel, city blurring past as I roll down the window and let warm air whip through my hair—the kind that tastes like summer and freedom and maybe even forever.
This is my life now, unpredictable and passionate. Loud, messy, and mine. Full of people who love me not in spite of who I am, but because of it.
I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
The second I step inside—the door barely clicking shut—I hear his voice.
“Lock it.”
My stomach does a slow, delicious flip. I twist the deadbolt, bag still slung over my shoulder, and find Jake leaning against the kitchen bench like he owns the place—which, to be fair, he kind of does lately. Black T-shirt. Grease-stained jeans. Barefoot. And that look.
ThatI’m-going-to-ruin-youlook.
He pushes off the counter and prowls towards me like I’m his next project, hands tucked casually in his pockets, eyes dark and hungry.
“Spa day treat you good, darl?”
“Until you got involved,” I murmur, legs wobbling as he stops a breath away. “Then it turned into a different kind of treatment.”
His smirk is lazy, cocky, completely unrepentant. “You didn’t sound like you were complaining.”
“I’m still not.”
Jake slides the strap of my bag off my shoulder, letting it drop to the floor. “How’d you feel?”
I blink. “What?”
“In the bathroom.” He leans in, mouth brushing my ear. “When my voice was in your head. Did it feel as good as I remember?”
My knees threaten to give. He wraps an arm around my waist and hauls me flush against him.
“Jake…”
“Bedroom,” he growls. “Now.”
“But I just walked in?—”
His mouth is on mine before I can finish. Hot. Deep. Possessive. His tongue slides against mine with the same slow deliberation he used in the fantasy he spun hours ago. By the time he pulls back, I’m panting, clutching his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“I’ve been hard since you walked into that spa bathroom and called me,” he mutters against my lips. “You’ve got no idea what it did to me knowing you were wet and desperate with my voice in your ear.”
I shiver.
He guides me backwards, fingers finding the tie at the front of my wrap dress. “How about we pick up where we left off?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
He peels the dress open with infuriating slowness, baring me inch by inch. Underneath: a lacy bralette and matching shorts. His gaze drags over delicate fabric, then locks with mine.
