Chapter 6
Jake
Our lips crash together again, and I walk her backward toward the couch, never breaking the kiss. She stumbles slightly and I catch her, one hand splayed across the small of her back, and she laughs. This breathless, surprised sound that does something complicated to my chest.
"Graceful," I murmur against her lips.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
She does.
We tumble onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. She's half beneath me, her hair fanned out against the worn leather, firelight dancing across her face. She looks up at me with those incredible blue eyes and I forget how to breathe.
"Hi," she whispers.
"Hi."
"This is crazy."
"Why?"
"We barely know each other."
"So?"
"I don't do this. I don't just—with someone I met three days ago—"
"Madison."
"Yeah?"
"Stop talking."
I kiss her again and she arches into me, her hands sliding under my shirt. Her fingers are cold against my skin and I hiss at the contact, but I don't pull away. I couldn't pull away now if this place was on fire.
She tugs at the hem of my shirt and I lean back long enough to yank it over my head. Her eyes go wide, tracking down my chest, and the way she looks at me, like I'm something worth looking at, makes me feel ten feet tall.
"Your turn," I say.
She bites her lip. Then she sits up and pulls her sweater off in one motion.
Jesus.
She's wearing a simple cotton bra, nothing fancy, but it doesn't matter. She could be wearing a paper bag and she'd still be beautiful. Her skin is flushed pink from the fire, from me, and there's a smattering of freckles across her collarbone that I desperately need to taste.
"You're staring," she says.
"I'm appreciating."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
"That's what I'm calling it."
I lower my mouth to her collarbone and trace those freckles with my tongue. She gasps, her hands flying to my shoulders, nails digging in. I smile against her skin and do it again.
"Jake—"
"Mmm?"
"That's—oh—"
I find a spot just below her ear that makes her shiver and I file that information away for later. I want to learn all of her. Every sound she makes, every place that makes her gasp, every way to take her apart and put her back together.
Her hands are in my hair now, tugging, guiding. I follow her lead, kissing down her throat, across her shoulder. She reaches back and unhooks her bra and then there's nothing between us but skin and firelight.
I pull back to look at her. She's breathing hard, chest heaving, and she's so goddamn beautiful it actually hurts.
"You okay?" I ask.
"If you stop now, I will murder you."
"Noted."
I lower my head and take her nipple into my mouth. She cries out—loud, unrestrained—and the sound goes straight to my groin. I swirl my tongue, testing, learning what she likes. She likes it when I'm gentle. She likes it more when I'm not.
"Jake. Jake, please—"
"Please what?"
"I need—more. I need—"
I kiss my way down her stomach and back up again, and I have to close my eyes for a second to get myself under control.
I undo her jeans slowly, giving her time to change her mind. She lifts her hips so I can slide them down, and then she's lying beneath me in nothing but a scrap of cotton that's already damp.
I slide my hand up her thigh, watching her face. Her eyes are half-closed, lips parted, and when my fingers brush against the cotton between her legs, her whole body jerks.
"Sensitive," I murmur.
"It's been a while."
"How long?"
"Long enough that if you don't touch me properly in the next three seconds, I'm going to—oh—"
I slip my fingers beneath the cotton and find her wet. So wet. For me. Because of me. The realization makes me dizzy. I have her panties off in two seconds.
I stroke her slowly, learning her, figuring out what makes her gasp and what makes her moan. She likes it when I circle her clit with my thumb. She likes it more when I slide a finger inside her and curl it just right.
Then I'm kissing her again, my tongue thrusting into her mouth in rhythm with my finger. I add a second finger, and she falls apart.
She’s beautiful to watch. Her back arches off the couch, her hands fisting in my hair, and she cries out my name like a prayer. I work her through it, drawing out every last shudder, and when she finally goes limp beneath me, I'm so hard it's painful.
She opens her eyes. They're glazed, unfocused, and she's looking at me like I hung the moon.
"That was—"
"Yeah?"
"I can't feel my legs."
I grin. "Good."
"Come here."
She kisses me, deep and slow. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest. Or maybe that's mine. It's hard to tell.
Her hand slides down my stomach, heading for my belt, and I catch her wrist.
"Wait."
She blinks. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just—" I take a breath. Try to think through the haze of want. "If we keep going, I'm not going to be able to stop."
"Maybe I don't want you to stop."
"Madison."
"Jake."
"I'm serious." I sit up, putting some distance between us. "This is already… we're already—"
"Already what?"
I don't have words for it. That's the problem. I've done this before: the attraction, the heat, the fall into bed with someone new. It's familiar territory. Easy.
This doesn't feel easy. This feels like standing at the edge of something I can't see the bottom of.
"Moving fast," I finally say. "Too fast."
"Three days is too fast?"
"For me, it's usually three hours."
The words come out before I can stop them. Her expression flickers—surprise, maybe hurt—and I curse myself.
"That's not—I didn't mean—"
"No, I get it." She sits up, reaching for her sweater. "I'm not your usual type. This isn't your usual situation."
"That's not what I said."
"It's what you meant."
"Madison." I catch her hand before she can pull the sweater on. "What I meant is that I don't know what the hell I'm doing here. You're not—this isn't—" I exhale. "I don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Care."
The word lands between us like a grenade. Her eyes widen slightly.
"You care?"
"I don't know." I release her hand and run my fingers through my hair. "Maybe. I don't know. That's the problem."
She's quiet for a moment, studying me with those eyes that see too much.
"For the record," she says finally, "I don't know what I'm doing either."
"No?"
"I have that rodeo in Heart River. I paid a lot of money for that spot. It's one of the biggest events of the season since it lasts for five days."
The words hit harder than they should. I knew she was leaving. I've known since the beginning. That was supposed to make this easier. A built-in expiration date, no expectations, no complications.
It doesn't feel easier.
I nod slowly. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know." She pulls the sweater on, and I try not to mourn the loss of all that bare skin. "Something. Anything."
Silence stretches for too long. I sigh, running a hand through my hair again. "New topic. How about I go shovel and you work on something to eat?"
She looks at me for a long moment. Then she nods. "Okay."