13. Ember
THIRTEEN
EMBER
Jack cleared his throat as his hands tightened ever so slightly around my waist. Cleared it again. Finally, he said, “Practice?”
“Yeah. Like this.” I stroked my hands down to his chest and back up again. One more time. I stroked his muscular pecs until the desire to wrench myself away from him faded, leaving only lightheadedness behind. My stomach felt like a big knot of pulsing heat. “See? Better already.”
He grunted. “Uh-huh.”
“You should probably kiss me as well.”
He stiffened, clearing his throat yet again. “Sorry?”
Although it was comforting that he was clearly uncomfortable, I couldn’t help feeling a little wounded by it.
Had he been so awkward with all the other women that had come before?
No, of course not. He’d charmed them, and they’d charmed him, and they’d done what beautiful, attractive people did when they were into each other.
He probably didn’t hesitate to kiss them.
I, on the other hand, needed to suffer through this. Everything that had happened at The Pier had been a game, and now that I was asking Jack to actually kiss me, he wasn’t interested.
It was good, I told myself, because it was like the fear of heights. If he rejected me a little every time, it would make it easier for me to get used to it.
I was inoculating myself against his touch—and his rejection.
But we needed to sell this. His grandmother was smart, and Jack was right. I had to stop acting like an awkward teen at their first school dance every time Jack went to brush his hand over my back. We had to get married and make it believable if either of us was going to get what we wanted.
I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “You should kiss me. So we can practice. Otherwise it’ll be obvious that we’re lying.”
A little wheezing breath escaped him. “Right. Right now?”
I backed away slightly. “I mean, if you don’t want to—forget I said anything—”
“Right now’s good,” he said, tightening his hold on me. His voice was all crushed gravel, his eyes the deep blue of dusk turning to night. I was caught in their hold for a moment, all the breath rushing out of me as he pressed me to his chest and stopped me from running.
Maybe…maybe he did want to kiss me?
But then why would he be so hesitant? I knew he was a player. I knew he had women knocking down his door at all hours. I’d seen the way women flirted with him at restaurants and on the street and at school drop-offs.
It didn’t matter. This was for a million dollars. For my father to spend eternity cursing my name. My fresh start. My win over the awful childhood that had shaped everything about me. Whether or not Jack Mars found me attractive was immaterial.
I tilted my head up and gave him a sharp nod. “Do it.”
“Why does it feel like you’re asking me to set a broken bone with zero anesthesia?” he asked, lips twitching.
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s for you to figure out on your own,” I said. “Now let’s get this over with. Kiss me.”
A noise escaped him, a low grunt that sounded like it came from deep in his throat. His fingers spasmed on my waist, clenching tight. Then, in a low murmur, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” and dipped his head toward me.
I knew he could feel me trembling. I could feel it in the way his hands stroked my sides, in the gentle, nibbling kisses he pressed against my pinched lips. His mouth curved against mine, and he said, “Relax, babe.”
“Have you already forgotten what I said about pet nam—”
Jack interrupted me with a kiss. This one wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t nibbling. It was a full-on, open-mouthed deep kiss with lots of tongue.
The kind of kiss I’d seen in the movies and never actually experienced.
The kind of kiss that sent me reeling, that made me clutch his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping me upright.
Because it wasn’t just a kiss, was it? It was the way his arms tightened around me. How his fingers sank into the flesh over my hips and dipped under the hem of my sweater. How that low, rasping grunt escaped him and sent shivers spiraling through my core.
The full weight of his attention bore down on me.
It swept me up and carried me right off my feet, like I was being hurled out into a raging, dark sea.
His palms flattened against the bare skin of my lower back, fingers of one hand curling into the waistband of my skirt.
Holding me against him, so I had no choice but to press myself up against his chest.
Against his erection.
It was heaven. It was hell. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.
All of a sudden, my body was on fire, and I had no idea how to douse the flames.
I wanted him to keep touching me forever, to let those big, warm hands stroke over every inch of my body.
I wanted to tear his clothes off and lick the salt from his skin. I’d lost my damn mind.
Jack grunted, one hand curled into the waistband of my skirt, the other reaching down to hook my thigh over his hip. He pulled me tight to him, hiking my leg up so my skirt rode up to the crook of my hip. His big hand splayed over my flank, squeezing as he stroked the fabric of my tights.
“These skirts drive me insane,” he said against my lips, tightening his hold on the waistband of the garment.
“What?” I was dazed. I couldn’t think straight.
“Walking around my house with your ass looking like a dream,” he growled, then kissed the protests right off my tongue. “Making me imagine you bent over every surface for me to enjoy.”
I flushed from head to toe in an instant.
I’d never—that wasn’t something that had ever crossed my mind.
Jack wanting me. Really wanting me. Watching me and thinking about bending me over so he could use my body.
Why did that make me so hot? It should’ve been a turn-off, but a pit opened up in my stomach and I wanted that.
Wanted him desperate for me. Wanted him feral with his need to have me. To use me for his own pleasure.
It was too much. Too intense. Tearing myself away, I shoved at his chest with a palm and teetered as I landed on both feet again. His back knocked against the wall, and I felt the pounding of his heart beneath my hand.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, my face hot with a deep blush. The space between my legs pulsed relentlessly. I couldn’t get a full breath in.
His hands dangled at his sides, and he reached one hand over to toy with the hem of my sweater.
He tugged on it ever so gently: an invitation.
I could still feel the imprint of his palms against my skin, the press of his fingers into my flesh.
“Not what you meant?” he grated, chest heaving on a big inhale.
“We’re not going to be kissing like that in front of anyone.”
“We can if that’s what you’re into,” he said, and I jerked my head up to see a wicked smile curving his lips.
Hot embarrassment singed my chest. I huffed and grabbed the doorknob, wrenching the door open and staring at the hallway beyond. “Okay. Well. Goodnight.”
Jack didn’t move. “Ember.”
“We can talk about a public activity tomorrow. Anywhere else people go on dates around here? We should probably continue to be seen together every day.”
“Ember.”
“The more people see us together, the more convincing it’ll be that we’re actually into each other.”
This time, when I stopped talking, Jack was silent. Somehow, I found the courage to look him in the face. His eyes were dark, his lips pinched. His chest heaved, and from the corner of my eyes, I could see the bulge in the front of his pants. “Right,” he said. “I’ll think of something.”
“Great.” I gave him a big, fat, fake smile and swept my hand toward the door. The second he was out, I closed it behind him and let out a gusting breath. That had gotten out of hand.
I crossed the room and sat at the tiny desk shoved on the far side of the bed.
The chair was too hard, its back too straight, but the discomfort soothed me.
I opened my laptop and focused very hard on plugging it in and booting it up.
Soon, my workstation was ready, and I had spreadsheets lighting up my screen.
I worked until the full moon shone through the window. Until my back was sore and there was no hint of the heat that had burned through me like a wildfire. Until I was quite sure that when I collapsed in my rickety bed, I wouldn’t be thinking about Jack Mars at all.
Then I got into bed and thought of him anyway. Twisted and turned until I gave up and slipped my hand between my legs. Imagined him pushing me down over the edge of the kitchen table so he could fuck me the way he wanted.
The way I wanted.
JACK
I paced my room like a caged lion. She was so close.
Only a set of stairs and a couple of doors separated us, but she might as well have been on another planet.
My fists clenched and released. My skin itched.
My cock hadn’t stopped throbbing since she’d blinked up at me with wide, green eyes and said the word “practice.”
It was only lust. It had to be. I’d always wanted what I couldn’t have, and Ember had made it very clear that she wasn’t into me in that way.
But then there was that little desperate whimper that had slipped through her lips when I’d kissed her. The way her fingers had curled into my shirt. The trembling, visceral need I’d glimpsed in her as her hips jerked toward me, rolling against my clothed cock.
Right before she’d told me to get out.
Then there was the kindness that had shone in her eyes when she’d crossed the room to hug me. The understanding. The quiet—she hadn’t felt the need to tell me any useless platitudes about the grief I’d endured over a decade ago.
Every moment in her presence revealed something more that I liked about her. Another facet of her I wanted to study.
I was far beyond fighting against the inevitable.
This wasn’t just lust. It was a hell of a lot more than that.