Page 77 of Fairy Tale Lies
“Now they’re okay with you marrying their daughter?” Jacob asked with amusement. Miguel and Susan nodded.
“I’m surprised. Your first meet was almost worse than mine. Hell, at least I had the police to protect me from her parents. Plus, Charles doesn’t hate me. He might even like me. Whereas, if I were you, I wouldn’t go anywhere alone with your future father-in-law. He might still be picking a spot to toss your dead body.”
“No way. We get along great now. And, whatever, dude, your woman’s mother tried to send you to prison. Probably hoping you’d become some man’s bitch and leave her daughter alone.” Humor danced in Miguel’s eyes.
“Aww, too soon. And so wrong.” Jacob shuddered. “With that happy image, I’m going to need something stronger than water and coffee.” He grabbed Greta’s Mimosa and downed it in one gulp.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Helluva of a long day.” Jacob yawned, sleep pulling heavy on his limbs. He rubbed the stubble on his cheeks, watching the morning sun climb over the horizon.
“Sure was.” Greta unlocked and opened the door to her apartment, letting him go first. Once inside, she encircled his waist and rested against his back. “A good one too. Well, except for the trip to Petite Bois Police Station.”
He twisted around, wanting her body flush against him. “At least we ended here. I like the idea of waking with you in my arms.”
“Same. I much prefer you here with me than in your friend Jamie’s arms.”
Jacob laughed, loud and deep, dislodging the last residue of misery, even if he was finding it difficult to breathe.Him and Jamie. Jacob laughed harder, picturing him suggesting a cuddle with his friend.
Greta eyed him, hands on her hips and a confused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He inhaled deeply, struggling for composure.
When he could talk again, Jacob explained, “Jamie’s a guy, a verybigguy. Not a chance we’d share a bed. He’d probably want to spoon me, and I like to do the spooning.” He shook his head and took Greta’s hand, kissing her palm, another chuckle escaping. “He and I would never have worked out.”
“Smartass.” Greta giggled, entwining her fingers with his, leading him to the bedroom. “Now, the plan is to sleep through our hangovers. With any luck, by the time we wake, the alcohol will be gone from our systems.”
Seeing the comfortable bed, a wave of sleepiness nearly drowned him. “That, my dear, is a perfect plan. I don’t even have the energy to undress. Mind if I sleep in my clothes?” He fell face first onto the comforter, already half asleep.
“Don’t worry, handsome, I’ll take care of you,” Greta murmured in a low voice, sounding far away as he teetered between wakefulness and sleep.
He rolled to his back, forcing his eyes open, wanting to know why she wasn’t next to him. His breath caught as the need to sleep evaporated. Greta was naked and beautiful.
She was a dream come true, a goddess.
He shifted onto his elbows, running his gaze languidly up her body. His pulse thumped in time with his growing lust. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“The only thing I know is I need you. I crave the reassurance of your touch. Your body.” She kneeled on the bed, crawling to stretch across him.
His body demanded the same; her caresses let his battered heart know they were okay. At least for the moment.
He buried his face into her neck, inhaling the scent of orange juice, Prosecco, and something unique, heady, and all Greta. He smoothed a hand from the dip at her waist to the sides of her breasts. She shifted, giving access. He brushed his thumbs against her peaking nipples. Her soft moan and the sensation of her delicate skin against his calloused hands was heaven.
Greta arched into his touch, dancing her lips along his. He moved, trying to deepen the kiss. She forced him flat on his back. She removed his clothes leisurely, full of seduction and spice.
She trailed her fingers along his exposed skin. Goosebumps rose. Her touch was electric warmth; his body was the conduit begging for the voltage.
“Please, Greta.” He wasn’t sure if he was begging for her to hurry or slow down.
She slid off his pants and boxer briefs. She hovered above him, her expression full of heat. He damn near melted into the mattress. Never breaking eye contact, she wrapped a hand around his erection, licking her lips.
Holy hell, this woman is going to make my heart stop.
His eyes slid shut, and he thrust into her tight fist. She reduced him to a state where reasoning evaporated, where only sensation mattered.
“Greta, uh…” He couldn’t form a thought, let alone words.
Her hot breath brushed against his ear. “I want to taste you. I want, no need, all of you. Your taste on my tongue, your sweat on my body, and, before we leave this bed, you buried deep inside me. For now, let me taste you.” She glided down his body, stopping where they both wanted, taking him deep with her full, lush lips.
He fisted her hair, trying to be gentle, probably failing.
