Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
A delicious dinner and easy conversation was exactly what Sabrina needed. She felt so at ease in Jayson’s company and quickly revised her initial impression that he was a grumpy old man. He was thoroughly entertaining and made her laugh harder than she’d laughed in a very long time.
They shared a bowl of butter pecan ice cream for dessert, both their favorite, and Sabrina insisted on washing the dishes as he dried and put them away. It all felt extremely domestic. Like something they might do together on a normal night. And, God, she craved that sweet domestic bliss with him.
After cleaning up the kitchen, they moved to the couch, leisurely finishing the bottle of wine. Her earlier nerves had settled and she felt completely relaxed in his presence. Strange for her, but not unwelcome.
She’d never been able to fully be herself around a man, always keeping a mask in place.
Always putting on a bit of a show. Possessing some underlying need for them to think her makeup was perfect, her clothes fashionable, her personality just the right combination of dazzling and easygoing.
That she was also a capable, intelligent woman with an important job.
But it wasn’t like that with Jayson. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, she wore a comfy, old sweatshirt with plaid pajama pants, and most of her makeup had worn away. And he still looked at her like she was pretty. Like she was a woman he wanted to get to know better.
Yeah, no doubt about it, he was a good man.
The truth was she’d never been very good at dating, and now that she was getting older, it was scary to think she might spend the rest of her life alone.
But Jayson gave her a thread of hope. Maybe there was more happening between them than just a one-night stand.
That was certainly coming, if she chose to follow through.
Their chemistry was off-the-charts, every heated look, every lingering touch indicating they wanted each other.
Legs curled up beneath her, Sabrina twirled her empty wine glass between her fingers as she met Jayson’s incredible hazel eyes.
Finally finding the nerve to ask what she’d been dying to know, she blurted, “Why hasn’t some woman snatched you up yet?
” He quirked a brow, and her attention zeroed in on the scar between his eyebrows.
“In case you aren’t aware, you’re a pretty incredible catch. ”
He chuckled. “Thanks, but Emma was always my main focus. Dating just took a backseat. I figured I’d have plenty of time to meet someone later. Then the years seemed to start speeding up and later kept getting pushed back. When Emma moved out, I guess I got caught in an old man rut.”
“What is an old man rut?” she asked with a tinkle of laughter.
“It’s when you develop this weird schedule and everything starts happening earlier than it ever did before.
I get up earlier, eat earlier, go to bed earlier…
Half the time, I fall asleep in my chair during Jeopardy.
” A faint blush tinted his cheeks and he gave her a sheepish look. “Pathetic, I know.”
He was freaking adorable. “I think it’s sweet. I’m forty-two, and I’ve fallen asleep on my couch while watching a movie more times than I can count.”
“Wait ‘til your forty-nine.”
He gave her a devastating smile and her chest hitched.
My God, he’s sexy when he smiles. There was a ruggedness about him she found incredibly attractive.
From his hooded hazel eyes to the dashing scar between his thick brows to the salt and pepper in his stubble.
It was all too delicious. And the idea of falling asleep with him during Jeopardy?
Wrapped in his strong arms, her face pressed to his chest? It sounded far too appealing.
Clearing her throat, she shifted, unable to ignore the wetness pooling between her thighs. “You just turned forty-nine, right?” She recalled seeing he had a January birthday in her file on him. He nodded. “Are you ready to turn half a century?” she teased.
“I just survived turning forty-nine, so let’s take it easy.”
She laughed, looking down at the empty glass she kept twirling, and secretly imagined herself still there to celebrate his fiftieth with him. “Happy belated birthday.”
“It kind of loses its fun with each passing year,” he admitted, looking down at his own glass.
“It doesn’t have to. Each new year is a gift and should be celebrated. That’s what my dad always says.”
“Well, it was a very lowkey day this year. Emma and the guys were with their significant others, and I didn’t want to bother anyone, so I had dinner with Ken Jennings.”
Her throat tightened with emotion. “Did you at least have some birthday cake?”
He shook his head. “No, but I had some whiskey.”
A frown pinched her brow and she pursed her lips.
“Not the same.” Suddenly, she wanted to give him what he should’ve had on January twelfth.
He was loyal with a good heart, and that seemed to translate into not saying no to people.
Probably a people-pleaser, by nature. Which meant he could be a target for others to take advantage of.
It made her protective instincts flare to life.
Pushing to her feet, she took their glasses and headed for the kitchen. She placed them in the sink and turned to the pantry to search for ingredients. Jayson took care of everyone else, yet no one had bothered to do the same in return. Sadness and a twinge of anger sparked through her.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m going to bake you a birthday cake,” she stated, on a mission. She began to search through the pantry shelves, and he moved up behind her.
“You really don’t have to—”
But she cut him off, determined to do this one small thing for him. “I’m going to bake you a delicious…” She perused the shelves and grabbed a few items. “...chocolate chip cake. With my special cream cheese frosting.”
“Sabrina.” He braced a hand on the doorframe and leaned closer. “That’s really sweet, but—”
“I insist.” She turned around, coming face to face with his broad chest, and looked up. Mmmm. He seemed so much taller when he hovered over her, molten gold flowing through his irises. Without thinking, she reached up and touched the scar above his nose. “What happened?”
“My scar?”
She nodded, tracing her index finger over the slightly raised surface.
“Nothing exciting. I got hit in the face with a baseball when I was ten.”
“Ouch.”
He caught her hand and dragged it down to his lips, placing a kiss on the tip of her finger that had been stroking his scar. “It hurt like a mother, but I refused to cry in front of my team. Waited ‘til I got home then bawled like a baby.”
They shared a smile, and she felt that spark of electricity zing between them as he began caressing her fingers.
Before things could shift into sexy territory, she cleared her throat.
“Do you have any birthday candles?” Her voice came out husky, but she couldn’t help it. He was making her so hot and bothered.
“Yes, from Emma’s birthday.”
“Good.”
His lips twitched. “You’re determined, huh?”
She nodded, and when he released her hand, she immediately missed its warmth.
“Well then, Special Agent Ross, let’s get baking.”
He reached over her head and grabbed the bag of sugar from a high shelf. His scent, clean and soapy, enveloped her, making her slightly dizzy. Slipping under his arm, she washed her hands at the sink and then got down to business.
The necessary ingredients gathered and the oven pre-heating, Sabrina pulled up a recipe on her phone while Jayson brought out mixing bowls and a measuring cup. When he reached for the flour, intent on helping, she shooed his hands away.
“I’ve got this,” she told him.
Not one to remain idle, he started to insist, forcing her to take drastic measures. Dipping her fingers into the flour, she flicked it at him. The powder landed on his nose and cheeks in a puff of white, and he blinked in surprise.
“You did not just—”
She did it again, and when his mouth dropped open, she burst out laughing. A playful energy came over her, and it must’ve been contagious, because he scooped a handful of flour from the bag and let it fly. She squealed, spinning around and getting the majority of it in the back of her head.
Scurrying forward, she darted around the island, doing her best to stay out of his reach, but the man was fast. And he had the entire bag of flour in his hand. Suddenly, it was a full-on flour war, and it didn’t take her long to realize she was losing.
After chasing her around the island a couple of times, he dropped the bag and closed in fast, a predatory look in his eyes. Before she could escape, his arm snaked around her waist, hauling her backward, and Sabrina let out a shriek.
“Vixen,” he rasped, caging her against his firm body. His low, deep voice in her ear turned her insides to mush, and instead of trying to get away, she melted in his arms.
Turning her around, he kept one hand on her hip while his other trailed up and cupped her face. A soft sigh escaped from between her lips as she waited with bated breath for his kiss.
His mouth descended, and she pushed up onto her toes, greedy for everything he could give her. They kissed each other hungrily. Tasting, exploring, getting to know each hidden crevice and corner. He didn’t hold back, eagerly consuming her until her knees threatened to buckle.
Without warning, he scooped her up, setting her ass on the granite countertop, and kept kissing the holy hell out of her.
Pushing her back onto the counter, his mouth left hers and trailed lower.
His warm tongue licked its way down her throat and a large palm slid over her right breast, softly kneading the flesh.
Lying on the kitchen island, dusted in flour, Sabrina had never felt more like a woman desired.
When his fingers slid past the waistband of her pajama bottoms and dipped into her panties, her world caught fire.
His big, warm hand settled over her hot mound and she arched up.
Desperate for more, a moan tore from her throat as she offered herself to him.
He shoved her sweatshirt up with his other hand, kissing her stomach. “Need to taste you,” he rasped out between kisses.
“Yes…please…” she urged.
With a soft slide, her pajama bottoms fell to the floor and cool air touched her naked thighs. Propping herself up on her elbows, chest rising and falling hard and fast, she locked gazes with him. Staring straight into her soul, he slid her panties aside and lightly blew.
Ohmygod. Liquid heat poured through her like lava and unrelenting need made her body twist. He pushed her legs further apart and focused on her most intimate area. Unable to look away, she watched him lick a path from her entrance to her clit.
Mother of God! Everything in her lit up and she collapsed back on the counter. He did not hesitate or hold back. Not one little bit. With eager licks and flicks of his tongue, he tasted everywhere, and her pleasure began to build.
And she still had her panties on. Well, half on, anyway. His thumb rubbed slow circles around her clit while his tongue kept up its steady ministrations, doing the most deliciously wicked things.
When her thighs started trembling, her release bearing down on her with a fierce force, he finally yanked the panties off. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, he sucked her clit into his mouth and feasted like a king.
“Jayson!” Sensations flooded her, causing her pussy to pulse.
A long, thick finger slid inside her and she squeezed around it.
It was becoming all too much, and she felt herself falling over the edge.
A moment later, her cry echoed throughout the kitchen as she came hard.
Her thighs clamped around his head as he slowly brought her down from the most amazing orgasm she’d ever had.
Ian had never gone down on her, claiming he hated the way she tasted.
Hear that enough and it doesn’t take long to give a girl a complex.
She’d become hyper-aware of everything below the belt, using feminine wipes obsessively and eating boatloads of pineapple.
She even went so far as to research different types of waxes and panties.
Yep, he’d done a number on her confidence, and nothing she did changed his mind or claim.
Of course, he’d always wanted blowjobs. When he refused to return the favor, she’d stopped. But Jayson had just eaten her out like he was trying to clear a Las Vegas buffet, so she couldn’t taste that bad, right?
“Fuck, you taste good,” he declared, lowering her legs. Easing the doubts that plagued her. He stood up and licked his glistening lips. She blushed furiously at how wet his face looked, and then even more when he grabbed a dish towel and wiped it clean.
Swallowing hard, she pushed up on her elbows and closed her legs, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. He seemed to read her sudden unease and laid his hands on her knees, lightly circling his fingers on her skin.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking concerned. “Did I do something you didn’t like?”
“No! God, no.” Sitting all the way up, she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s just…” Her voice trailed off and she frowned.
“Just what?”
She cleared her throat. “The last guy I dated refused to go down on me. Because, um, he said I didn’t taste good.” Oh, God, kill me now. Humiliation battered through her like a pinball on steroids.
An unreadable look passed over his face before his eyes flashed green fire. “You taste sweet as sugar,” he rasped. Before she could respond, he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. Making her taste herself. “See?” His breath whispered against her lips. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Um, thanks? She had no idea what to say to that. But, yeah, he just gave her self-esteem an incredible boost.
“And whatever asshole you dated didn’t deserve you,” he continued.
“Anyone with half a brain would realize how lucky he was to have you. If this sweet pussy were mine…” He placed a possessive hand between her legs, the green in his eyes melting back into gold.
“If it belonged to me…” He dipped the very tip of his finger inside her.
Teasing. “I would kiss it, lick it, worship it every single day.”
If I were his, I’d let him.
And for a brief moment, a beautiful thought took shape in her mind. What would it be like to belong to a man like Jayson Knight?