Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Madeline
Jesse drives into me from behind, the edge of his desk digging into my hips as I brace both palms on the cool surface.
My other hand is fisted around the diamond pendant resting against my throat—my birthday gift that he gave me two nights after dinner at Cara’s place, still new enough that the weight of it makes my breath catch every time it shifts against my skin.
His name slips out of me on a broken exhale, half-moan, half-plea. It’s late and the office is empty, silent except for the low thud of our bodies meeting and the scrape of wood across the floor each time he thrusts a little harder.
The second the last person left the building, Jesse caught my wrist, pulled me into his office, shut the door, and dropped to his knees. One swipe of his tongue against my clit and my whole body lit up.
If anyone were to walk in here, I would die of mortification on the spot. Knowing we’re in the Cove office and there’s a chance we could get caught still doesn’t seem to be enough to stop me from arching my back and widening my legs a little further.
Over the last two weeks, since my birthday, Jesse has been feral for me. Whenever we’re alone, his hands are all over me. He’s on me or in me. Every opportunity he gets, he’s stripping me out of my clothes and making me come. It’s like something in him snapped loose. Or snapped into place.
Every time I melt for him. And right now, is no different.
He bends over me, his chest fitted to my back, his breath skating down my neck as his fingers lace with mine on the desk. “Mads…” he groans against my shoulder like he’s unraveling right along with me.
I squeeze the pendant harder, feel the cool metal bite into my palm as heat coils deep and fast in my belly.
Now his hands are on my hips, dragging me back into every brutal thrust, the desk biting into my thighs as papers slide to the floor.
I’m trying to keep quiet, biting down on the inside of my cheek, but each time he slams into me, a sound escapes anyway.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, rubbing tight circles over my clit that make my thighs shake. “Let me feel you come. I want to feel you milk my cock until I lose it.”
I don’t stand a chance. The orgasm rips through me, fast and helpless, white-hot and overwhelming. I cry out, choking on the sound as I clamp around him so hard he swears into my shoulder.
He doesn’t stop. Not even for a second. Jesse grabs my waist and drives into me with a new intensity.
“You’re gonna make me come so hard,” he pants. “Fuck, Mads…I’m right there—”
And then he breaks. His hips slam into mine, holding me pinned, buried deep as he groans my name against my back.
He doesn’t pull out right away. Instead, he drags me up against him, my back pressed to his chest as he turns my face toward his and kisses me.
It’s messy and consuming—his mouth claiming mine, his tongue sliding against mine with a heat that makes my knees weaken all over again.
I kiss him back just as hard, tugging at his hair, biting at his lower lip, stealing the breath straight from both of us.
When he finally breaks the kiss, his forehead drops to mine, our breath tangling in the quiet of his office.
“Mads,” he pants, “I completely lost it.” His hands tighten on my hips, keeping us joined, his body still trembling with the aftershocks. “Every bit of patience I had just…snapped. All day, I needed you. I couldn’t wait another minute.”
Jesse eases out of me with a soft groan, his hands steadying me before he reaches for my skirt on the floor.
I’m still shaky, thighs trembling, when he crouches and slides the fabric back up my legs like it’s something careful, something reverent.
He brushes a kiss to the inside of my knee before standing and tucking my shirt into place, smoothing it down my sides with palms that linger a beat too long.
“You good?” he murmurs, thumb skimming my cheekbone.
“Mm-hmm.” My voice is embarrassingly thin.
“Good,” he says, kissing me once more, slowly this time, like he’s branding the moment into my bones. “Because I’m taking you to dinner. I need food after that.”
He grabs his jacket, fingers lacing with mine as we leave his office, the building dim and quiet except for our footsteps echoing down the hall.
We’re halfway to the elevator when his phone buzzes.
He glances at the screen and everything in him changes.
His whole body goes still, shoulders tensing, jaw tightening in a way I’ve never seen. He answers immediately.
“Yeah?” His voice drops, turning his back to me. “What happened?”
I can’t hear who he’s talking to on the other end, but I can feel it. Jesse’s body language is all wrong. His posture is rigid, the easy way about him just minutes ago now replaced with a tension that is almost vibrating off him.
“I’m on my way,” he says, pacing the floor in short strides. “If he comes to, let him know I’m on my way.”
He hangs up and my stomach sinks. I go to him, placing my hand on his chest as instinct takes over. When he looks down at me, his eyes are unfocused and shiny. It’s the kind of look that means something is terribly wrong.
“What happened?” I ask softly. “Who was that?”
He stuffs his phone in his pocket, chest rising and falling quickly. His jaw ticks as if he’s angry, but his eyes give him away. For the first time since I met him, I see fear flicker there.
“Jesse,” I plead. “Listen to me. Whatever it is, I’m here for you, just like you’re there for me.”
He places his hand over mine against his chest and I watch as he pulls himself back together. The fear in his eyes fades, and his breathing begins to even out.
“Madeline…” he begins, then stops. Starts again. “Mads, it’s…my dad. He’s in the hospital. He was in an accident…they said he was hit by a car. I have to go.”
“Okay,” I say, holding his hand a little tighter. “I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I know.” I step closer, close enough that I can feel the tension radiating off him. “But I’m going to. I want to. Let me do this for you like I know you would do for me.”
For a second, he looks like he might argue. Then the tension in his shoulders gives, just a fraction. “Okay,” he says quietly.
I nod once, decisive, already moving us toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Outside, the night air feels cold and sharp. We walk quickly to his car, neither of us speaking, the weight of what’s coming pressing down on every step.
As he unlocks the door, I can’t stop myself. “Do you know if he’s…okay?”
“It doesn’t look good,” he says. “They said he’s in critical condition.”
Oh God. This can’t be happening.