Page 33 of Hellbent
Jake.
He grins when he sees me sitting up, unbothered by the fact that he just broke in like a goddamn criminal.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss.
Jake lifts a hand, twirling something around his finger. A key.
“Borrowed this from Damian.” His voice is low and smug.
I stare at him, still half-asleep, my heart pounding. “Jake.” I laugh incredulously. “Wyatt’s going to kill you.”
“Wyatt doesn’t need to know.” His voice is soft and teasing. He walks in and brushes my knee over the blanket. “He’s already tucked you in. We’ve got hours before anyone comes knocking.”
I should tell him to leave. I know I should. But I don’t.
He watches me for a beat, then sighs dramatically, backing up toward the door. “All right, if you really want me to go…”
“No!” I say, a little too loudly, and he turns back, his grin softening into something quieter.
I move over, making space. The bed is narrow, barely big enough for me, but Jake doesn’t hesitate. He slips beneath the blanket, his body warm and solid beside mine, his arm sliding naturally around my waist—
And then he stills.
His fingers brush my hip, skin over skin, and I feel the slight hitch in his breath. He pulls back just enough to glance down, his hand skimming lower beneath the blanket, like he’s double-checking.
“You’re naked,” he murmurs, voice rough with amusement.
I smile into the pillow. “Don’t own any pajamas.”
Jake exhales a slow, appreciative breath, his fingers sliding over my hip and thigh. “Jesus, Max. You could’ve warned a guy.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
His low chuckle tickles my neck. “Might have gotten into the bed faster.”
“You’re impossible,” I giggle.
He brushes his lips against my temple before he buries his face in my hair. I let out a slow breath, feeling his weight beside me, his warmth sinking into my skin. I’m glad he’s here.
His hand moves absently, fingertips tracing light patterns along my hip, and then his nose skims along my jaw, breath warm against my skin. I tilt my head, just slightly, inviting him in, and he takes it—his mouth finding the edge of my throat, lips pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses that send heat radiating through me.
I should think twice about this. About what Wyatt said. About letting Jake into my space, into my new, precious life, without knowing what the hell that even means.
But I don’t, because I’m already craving him—even though his cum is still inside me, my body still aching from earlier.
His teeth graze my skin, and my breath hitches. I turn toward him, and his lips find mine, lazy at first, but then his fingers tighten on my waist, and the kiss shifts to something deeper and more urgent.
Before I know it, I’m fumbling with the button of his jeans.
Jake groans against my mouth, his breath ragged, his fingers sliding over my skin, down my hip. “Fuck, Max.” His grip tightens. “You don’t know how fucking desperate I am to be inside you again.”
His words make me whimper as his hands slide between my legs, his fingers stroking me, teasing, building the heat between us until I’m mindless beneath him. I grip his shoulders, my body already lifting into his touch, chasing more.
His kisses move lower, along my jaw, down my throat, like he’s savoring me. His breath is hot against my skin when he murmurs, “You’re so responsive.”
His fingers press deeper, his mouth trailing heat across my collarbone.
“The way you arch for me…fuck.”
