Page 11 of Jump

Not kissing.

But tasting.

Finally. “Ana…”

“Vivian.”

Thrusting to the very tips of her toes, she slams her lips to mine and steals from me. The oxygen in my lungs. The common sense from my brain. She takes my willpower to live: because if she asked me to walk through fire for her, I would.

When her tongue darts out and touches mine, she steals my ability to not feel this. And when my hands drop to her thighs and she jumps straight into my arms with a groan that rolls from her throat into mine, she steals from me my ability to forget.

Or walk away.

Or not follow this through.

Our tongues duel and my heart thunders, and surprising me most of all… is the absence of Ainsley Cootes in the back of my mind.

She’s silent, and Ana—Vivian—is all I hear. And see. And taste.

“Fuck.” I turn on my heels and carry her to a raised web of roots beneath a massive weeping willow just twenty feet from the waterline. The hanging branches create a curtain to shroud us from the rest of the world, and the raised roots give me a platform to sit on. I rest my back against the thick tree trunk, and Vivian on my thighs, her legs open wide and her chest pressed to mine.

Her core is fiery hot and welcoming, and her lips continue to work against mine. Demanding. Torturing. Delicious, and somehow, freeing.

“One night,” she pants, clamoring for breath in the single second we have before she comes back for more. “One night, Matt. Then we go back to the real world.”

“Deal.” I slide my hand beneath her gown and swallow down her moan. So sweet. So enjoyable. “One night is all I wanted, anyway.”

She giggles and buries her face between my neck and shoulder. To taste. To bite. So I drop my head back and stare up into oblivion while her tongue drags me away from reality and gifts me with an evening of just us.

No consequences. No tomorrows. And no heartache when things go bad.

The perfect solution.

Vivian

PUPPY LOVE

A few months later

“What do you mean it’s complicated?” Hannah chases after me while I move from one dog cage to the next.

I open one, switch out the water bowl, give Elvis a pat behind his ears and wish I could take him home with me, then I close the door and move to the next. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Freshen the water, then I get each pooch out and take them to the yard to play and run around.

“It’s sex, Viv! It doesn’t have to be complicated unless you let it be that way.”

“It was good sex.” I move to Treasure’s cage and hate how my smile turns to a frown. The rottweiler has lived here longer than almost any other dog on the premises. She’s big, scary-looking, and a smidge untrainable. So no one wants to give her a chance.

While puppies come through and are adopted out again within days, Treasure just waits. And waits. And waits a little more, only for nothing to change.

“It was great sex,” I continue. “He was so attentive, Han. So gentle. But…” Goosebumps sprint along my skin and stop at the tips of my toes. “He was rough, too. The best kind of rough.”

“So… he’s married?”

“No.” I give Treasure one last pat before securing her cage door. “He said he’s not.”

“Well, of course he did!” She throws her hands up in exasperation and strides forward to stop in front of me, making it impossible to keep avoiding her eyes.

Hannah Sullivan is my roommate. My best friend. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister, and the fact she’s regularly banging Axel Feeney again is both heartwarming, and a stressor in my life.

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