Some like It Wild (The Wild Ones #2)(32)
Author: M. Leighton

“That’s right, baby. I wanna hear you. Let me hear you,” Jake demands from behind me, thrusting into me harder.

I can’t hold in my gasps of breath or my moans of pleasure. This was so sudden and so raw, I feel like I could growl.

I curl my fingers around the edge of the counter, holding on to the world, to my sanity, as Jake stiffens behind me. I feel his fingers tangle in my hair and tug as he shoots liquid heat deep inside me. Then, with his name on my lips in a voice that I barely recognize as my own, I shatter like a stained glass window.

Shards of multicolored crystal explode behind my eyes. Jake’s thrusts are vicious. And all my body can say is Give me more!

When the spasms subside and I’m collapsed on the counter with Jake draped over me, both of us drinking in huge gulps of air, I marvel at the intensity of what we just shared. Rather than things losing their luster or becoming too comfortable or ordinary, it seems they’re going the opposite direction. It’s as though every minute of every day, every time we make love, it gets better and better. Hotter and hotter. More and more earth-shattering.

And more and more meaningful.

* * *

After the tingling wore off from my waist down, I finished smearing sweet spread on our bagels. Now, I’m sitting across from Jake as we munch on a late breakfast.

A very late breakfast.

“How’s work coming?” he asks, out of the blue.

“Fine,” I say, noncommittally. I swallow a piece of bagel, feeling it stick in my suddenly dry throat. “I don’t have much left to do. Soon, I’ll be out of your hair.”

I keep my attention on my food, carefully tearing off another bite of bagel, but not putting it in my mouth. My appetite seems to have disappeared.

When finally I look up, Jake is watching me. His expression is fathomless. His golden eyes search mine for several long seconds before he starts to nod slowly. “How would you feel about a camping trip this weekend?”

I grin. It’s like a stay of execution, this invitation. I love the thought of spending more time with him, especially out away from the world. Something secluded like a camping trip sounds wonderful.

“Sounds like fun.” I try for a mild answer, which I’m sure is belied by my bright smile.

“That way we can be gone on Sunday, too. I know how much it bothers you not to be going to church.”

My heart melts a little at his thoughtfulness. I had told him that very first Sunday that I stayed here that I felt guilty, that any time I was in town, I attended my father’s church on Sunday. At the time, Jake made no comment, but now I know he heard. And it means the world, not only that he listened, but that he cares enough about me to be mindful of my comfort.

Don’t read too much into it, Laney, I caution myself, but I know it’s too late. It’s just another little thing that I’ll dwell on, wondering if it means he has deeper feelings for me.

I shrug. “It’s not that big a deal.”

Jake is quiet for a few seconds before he speaks again. He clears his throat. “You know, if you want to go, you can. And if you need me to go with you, I would do that.”

I would give anything to be able to control the gush of tears that floods my eyes. But I can’t. Before I know it, my eyes are burning and Jake is blurry. Quickly, I look down at my plate, but I know I wasn’t fast enough.

I hear the scrape of wood against wood as Jake pushes his bar stool away from the island. I don’t bother to look up. I don’t want him to see the pain in them now, behind the tears. I knew this would be too much for him. Too emotional. Too . . . real.

But, much to my surprise, Jake rounds the island and comes to my side to turn me around on my stool. I keep my head down, but, with a finger under my chin, he lifts my face until I’m looking into his eyes.

“It’s all right that it bothers you. It should. Your father is a good man. Misguided at times, but I think his intentions are good. He loves you. That much is obvious.” I blink and tears spill down my cheeks, unchecked. Jake’s eyes follow one all the way down to my jaw where he brushes it away with the backs of his fingers. “You’re lucky to have him. I’d have given anything for my father to feel that way about me.”

For just a few seconds, the real Jake, the one behind the tough guy, peers back at me from somewhere inside those guarded amber eyes. I want so much to talk to him, but I know better than to try. I know better than to ask any questions. No matter how much I want to know, I’m well aware that there are some things Jake won’t tell me until he’s good and ready. Which he may never be. But I know enough. Somehow, his father hurt him. Badly. And Jake has never gotten over it. That much is clear.

“Anyone would be a fool not to love you,” I blurt, caught up in the moment, in the haunted look that’s in his eyes. When I realize what I said, I feel a moment of sheer panic. But then Jake smiles, and I mentally exhale.

His expression is wry when he says, simply, “Thank you, but you don’t know me as well as he did. He had his reasons.”

As I watch, the curtain falls back into place and, just like that, tender, broken Jake is gone, replaced once more by the person who pretends to feel nothing. Who wants to feel nothing.

“But I want to know you, Jake,” I confess candidly, and not for the first time.

“I know you do. But I also know what I’m saving you from. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

With that, he kisses my forehead and backs away. “How about we divide and conquer? I know you’ve got some work to do, but do you think you’d have time for a quick trip to the store? If you can get that, I’ll have everything else ready and we can leave after lunch tomorrow.”

Back to business as usual.

I hide my sigh behind a sniff.

“Sure. Just tell me what to get.”

“I’ll text you a list. First, though, I need a shower.” He gives me a casual smile, a peck on the lips and then he turns to walk away. Jake has an enviable way of just moving on, not dwelling on things he can’t control. He can’t fix the past so he doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to think about it. He just . . . moves on. Some might call that hiding, but Jake’s no coward. I think this is just his way of conquering it. By not letting it conquer him.

While I admire his determination, it still makes me feel so sad. “Okay. I’m heading to the office,” I say with a smile. We now refer to the dining room as my office.

Jake tosses me a wink and takes the stairs two at a time. I don’t move on nearly so quickly.