Page 63 of Don't Game Me
He alligator rolled her, kissed her neck, and nipped at her ear. She gasped. He put a hand under her ass to angle her upward and thrust harder, deeper. “You want me to let you come, don’t you? Say it, Becca.”
“Yes.”
“You need me. I need to hear it.”
“I need you, Jake. But admit you need me too.” She dug her fingernails into his ass and lifted her hips to meet his thrust, wrapped her legs around him.
He buried his face in her neck and whispered, “I need you too.”
He gave her what she wanted, pushing her over the edge. She shattered, crying out his name. A few thrusts later, he followed.
Afterward, he held her in silence. Her ear on his chest listened to the rapid thumps of his heart. Down to the depths of her soul, she realized even if they moved on, this was what she wanted. This was the kind of forever she’d dreamed about.
19
Jake rolled over, blissed out beyond belief after hours with Becca, and even an hour of bathtub play. Early morning light trickled through the curtains. He reached out for her, but instead of smooth skin and warmth, all he found was cold, wrinkled sheets. He sat up, confused.
“Becca?”
No answer. The clock read seven fifteen a.m. Where was she? Her flight didn’t leave until noon. He stalked through all the rooms of his apartment with a sense of dread. No Becca. She wouldn’t have left, not without saying something.
He padded into the kitchen, preparing for the disappointment he knew was coming. On the island counter, she’d propped a note against an apple:Only tonight. Forgive me.
She left?
With a curse, he swept his arm across the counter, sending unopened mail, apples, and the note flying.
He’d been on the receiving end of being left before, but in those cases, he’d been relieved to avoid morning-after weirdness.
With a hard flop, he landed on a stool. He massaged his pounding temples. Why did her leaving hurt? It wasn’t supposed to hurt. This is the way he preferred. One night, maybe two max, and it was over. He didn’t do regrets or repeats.
Even to him, the mantra sounded shallow.
She’d said they would walk away and move on. He’d taken her up on the deal. But something shifted for him last night. Had to be a product of discussing his father. Whatever it was didn’t want to return to the monotony of meaningless sex with beautiful strangers.
He fingered his cell phone, tempted to text her. Her words echoed in his mind.No weird goodbye at the airport.
Damn it, he wanted more time with her. A definite first for him, but he wanted more of her and more of what they’d shared. As he drifted off to sleep, he’d considered the previously unthinkable…the girlfriend thing. Even though probabilities weighed heavily in favor of him fucking it up, the high points might make however long they had together worthwhile.
To have her all to himself whenever he wanted her. To know she was thinking about him when he wasn’t around and whenever she wanted someone. This kind of mushy shit terrified him.
So why was it making him want to hunt her down and drag her back here? To make plans for next weekend, and maybe several weekends after that? He was fucking twisted over Becca.
Wait a minute. These uncharacteristic notions had to be post-wedding foolishness.You will get over this and realize tomorrow this is the way it should be.
In a daze, he stumbled to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection looked like over-baked shit from two sleepless nights. Usually, if he had a two-nighter, he slept for at least eight hours on the second day to make up. But he didn’t care about the puffy half-moon under each eye or the stubble and red eyes.
He’d been on board with last night being their final night. He shouldn’t be surprised she’d left. She had given him what he usually wanted, an uncomplicated out. The only person he could be pissed at was himself for agreeing to her rules.
His phone buzzed across the counter. Noah’s picture lit up.
“Yeah?” Jake answered, his voice rough.
“Okay, there’s a whole hell of a lot of woman troubles in that one word, but right now I’m so happy that you’re going to ride my wave and get over yourself. You still taking us to the airport in an hour?”
Shit. He’d forgotten his promise to Noah last week. “Yes. Your ride is on the way.”
A shower and forty minutes later, he pulled up to Becca’s hotel, the one in which Noah and Tori spent last night in one of the wedding suites. He rubbed his forehead again, hoping by some miracle it’d halt his head pounding. Then he texted Noah:Out front.
