Chapter 17
JAKE
Just Sleep
Why does there have to be one bed?
It’s like the universe is fucking with me. Not only did it give me the most enticing and infuriating wife on this planet, it also made sure I won’t get a single second of sleep tonight. I already know I’ll be tossing and turning, trying to hide my erection the entire time.
Fuck.
So why I’m the one suggesting we “just sleep” is beyond me.
She tilts her head, studying me.
“Just sleep,” she repeats.
She says it like she’s testing me. Like she already knows the answer and wants to see if I’ll break under the pressure.
I force myself to stay still. Controlled. Detached. I don’t let anything show. Not how badly I want her. Not how I’d spend the entire night on my knees between her thighs if she let me.
“And if we don’t just sleep?”
My head snaps up before I can stop it.
Our eyes lock, and heat floods my body instantly.
Her gaze doesn’t waver.
My voice comes out rough. “Sunshine, we shouldn’t.”
We really shouldn’t.
But God, I want to.
I want to so damn much.
She takes a step closer.
“Shouldn’t,” she repeats softly. “That’s not the same as don’t want to.”
I should have known she’d call me out on that.
And I can’t lie to her.
She’s right. And she knows it.
“It’s not,” I admit. The words scrape on the way out.
She reaches out, trailing her fingers lightly along the edge of the bed beside me.
Not touching me. Close enough that I feel it anyway.
My entire body locks down.
Every instinct screams at me to grab her. Pull her closer. Close the distance between us.
But I don’t move. I don’t even dare to breathe.
“So,” she says calmly, like she’s summarizing a business agreement, “to sum up: we’ll be sleeping in the same bed. But we won’t have sex because we shouldn’t. Not because we won’t want to.”
I stare straight ahead. I can’t look at her.
If I look at her, I will lose.
“Yes,” I say.
She lets the silence stretch and I can feel her watching me.
“Fine,” she says eventually. “Have it your way.”
She walks past me toward the bathroom.
I feel the brush of air as she moves by. It smells like her shampoo. Like something soft and dangerous.
“I’m taking a shower,” she adds.
I nod. “Okay.”
I don’t trust myself to say anything else.
The bathroom door closes behind her with a soft click.
I hear the shower turn on.
My brain betrays me immediately.
I picture her under the spray. Her head tipped back. Water running down her neck. Her shoulders. Her body.
I drag a hand down my face.
Get it together.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at nothing, listening to the steady rush of water through the wall like it’s mocking me.
Then I force myself to move.
I take off my shirt. My body is tense, muscles tight with restrained energy. I toss it on the chair without thinking.
I cross to my suitcase and unzip it, unpacking a few things. Mostly just to give myself something to do.
When I’m done, I sit on the edge of the bed.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor.
Finally the water shuts off.
My entire body goes still.
I hear movement. Fabric. The quiet sounds of her drying off.
My pulse is loud in my ears.
Then the door opens.
I look up.
And everything stops.
She stands in the doorway, wrapped in a towel.
Her hair is damp, clinging to her shoulders. Her skin flushed from the heat. Bare legs. Bare shoulders. Bare collarbones.
My brain goes blank.
My body reacts instantly.
Primitive.
My eyes lock onto her and I can’t look away.
I don’t want to look away.
Every rational thought evaporates under the sheer force of wanting her.
She doesn’t move from the doorway. She just stands there, clutching the top of the towel against her chest, her eyes dark and searching as they rake over my bare torso.
“Jake,” she whispers.
That’s it. That’s the end of my restraint.
I’m off the bed before I’ve even processed the command from my brain. I cross the floor in three strides, my hands finding her waist. The towel is damp under my palms, but her skin is scorching.
“I told you we shouldn’t,” I growl, my voice a low, ruined thing.
I crowd her back against the doorframe, pinning her there with nothing but my body and the force of my presence.
“But I can’t fucking stop,” I breathe against her ear, my lips brushing the shell of it.
She shudders in my arms, her fingers releasing the towel to fist in my hair instead.
The white terrycloth slips to the floor, pooling at her feet.
And suddenly she’s bare before me.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Really look at her.
“Fuck, Talia.” Her name breaks in my throat.
She's beautiful—small, rounded breasts with pink nipples already peaked, the curve of her waist flaring into hips that beg to be gripped. A thin strip of blonde hair leads my eyes down to where she's already glistening, wet and ready for me.
She reaches for me, her small hands splaying across my chest, feeling the hard ridges of muscle beneath her palms.
“Good,” she whispers. “Because I don’t want you to.”
Her blue eyes lock on mine.
“I wanted you the night we met,” she says. “And I’ve wanted you every day since. When I couldn’t have you… I touched myself and thought about you.”
Something primal surges through me. I lift her without effort, her petite frame weighing nothing in my arms.
She wraps her legs around my waist, her wet core pressing against my bare stomach, leaving a streak of heat on my skin. I press her against the wall beside the door, my mouth crashing into hers.
She tastes like mint and heat. Her tongue meets mine, stroking, tasting, claiming.
I groan into her mouth, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, my thumb brushing over her nipple. She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.
"Jake, please—" She breaks away to gasp against my jaw, her teeth grazing along my stubbled chin. "I need—"
"I know what you need," I growl, my free hand working my pants down just enough to free my aching cock.
It springs up between us, hard and leaking, the head brushing against her slick entrance. "I'm going to give you every fucking inch."
I notch myself at her opening and pause. Hold her gaze. "Last chance to tell me no."
Her answer is to roll her hips, taking the tip of me inside her. We both groan at the sensation—her tight, slick heat gripping me, the pressure already bordering on overwhelming.
"Hard," she breathes, her fingernails digging into my shoulders. "I want it hard."
Something snaps inside me.
I thrust into her in one long, deep stroke, burying myself to the hilt.
She cries out, her head falling back against the wall, her channel gripping me like a vice.
I still for just a moment, letting her adjust to the stretch, but then her heels dig into my ass, urging me on.
I pull back and slam home again. And again.
Each thrust is rough, claiming, the wet slap of our bodies filling the room.
The wall shakes with the force of my movements, and somewhere in the back of my mind I’m aware that anyone walking past our door could hear us.
Could hear her moaning my name.
Could hear the unmistakable sound of us fucking against the hotel wall.
I don't care. Let them hear. Let them know she's mine.
"You feel so fucking good," I grit out, my pace relentless.
I'm pounding into her now, my hips snapping forward with every stroke. Her tits bounce with each impact, and I duck my head to take one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard.
She keens, her fingers tightening in my hair, pulling just enough to sting.
"Harder," she gasps, and I oblige, bracing one hand against the wall for leverage.
I change the angle, driving into her deeper, hitting that spot inside her that makes her whole body jerk. "Oh god—right there—Jake—"
"That's it, Sunshine," I murmur against her breast, teeth grazing her nipple before I move to her neck.
I bite down on the junction of her shoulder, not hard enough to mark permanently, but enough to make her gasp. Enough to remind her who she belongs to. "Come for me. Let me feel you."
Her walls start to flutter around me, her breath coming in short, desperate pants.
I can feel her getting close, can feel her thighs starting to tremble where they're wrapped around my waist. I reach between us with my free hand, finding her clit, rubbing tight circles in time with my thrusts.
She shatters.
Her whole body goes rigid, then dissolves into shaking waves. A scream tears from her throat—my name, over and over, like a prayer.
Her pussy clamps down on me so hard I see white, and I follow her over the edge with a roar, burying myself as deep as I can go and spilling everything I have into her.
I pulse inside her, again and again, until I'm spent. Until we're both trembling, sweat-slicked, gasping for breath. I collapse forward, pressing my forehead to hers, still buried inside her warmth. Her legs are still wrapped around me, her fingers now tracing lazy patterns on my shoulders.
"Jake," she whispers again, but this time it's different. Softer. Reverent.
I lift my head to look at her—really look at her. Her blonde hair is a wild mess, her blue eyes hazy with satisfaction, her freckled cheeks flushed pink. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I'm still inside her, softening, but the sight of her makes my cock twitch with renewed interest. I groan, burying my face in her neck. "You're going to fucking kill me, woman."
She laughs, the sound vibrating through both of us. "What a way to go."
I pull back, finally easing out of her, and she winces slightly as her feet touch the floor. I catch her before she can stumble, pulling her against my chest.
Without a word, I guide her gently toward the bathroom, my hand never leaving her.
The mirror is fogged from her earlier shower. The scent of her shampoo still lingers in the steam-warmed air.
I turn on the water and wait until it runs warm.
She watches me quietly, her eyes soft.
I step under the spray first, testing the temperature, then glance back at her.
She follows without hesitation.
Warm water pours over both of us, washing away sweat and heat and the desperate urgency of a moment ago. Her hands rest lightly on my chest, steadying herself. Mine settle at her hips without thinking.
I reach for the soap, my movements slower now. Careful. I hand it to her, and our fingers brush.
She smiles faintly. Warm. Relaxed.
It’s a kind of quiet intimacy you don’t get with one-night stands, I realize.
And, it turns out, it feels nice.