Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(58)

I push at Jem’s t-shirt again and this time he drags it over his head. In return, Jem pulls away the duvet covering my chest. His eyes darken as his gaze soaks in the sight, and my skin tingles as he runs a finger along the quote beneath my breast.

“Worth the wait,” he whispers and his mouth finds mine again.

I wrap my arms around Jem’s neck, pressing against his naked chest. My nipples brush his taught skin, sending a frisson of sensation to my core as Jem holds me, one hand on the nape of my neck and the other in the small of my back.

I could spend all day kissing Jem, exploring the new sensations from the touch of tongues, the taste and heat of our mouths. An eternity pressed against his warm body beneath gentle hands wouldn’t be enough.

But that won’t be what he wants, and isn’t what I’ve waited this long for.

I move to unbutton his jeans and Jem shifts, helping, then shuffles out of them and kicks them to the floor. I shift back and pull him close, lying against the pillows, then begin to wriggle out of my panties.

Jem puts his hand on mine to stop me. “Is this what you do?”

“What?”

“Do you just lie back and have this done to you?” He props himself up on his elbows. “I’m not going to let you lie down while I f-uck you missionary style, Ruby. That’s not enough.”

Crap. I’m in a situation with Jem Jones who has more than likely tried every sexual position I can imagine and some I haven’t. I won’t be enough for him. I close my eyes in embarrassment and leave my panties on. “Sorry, what did you want me to do?”

Jem sits back. “Jeez, Ruby. Have you ever had sex with a man who cares about how it feels for you?”

I tug the duvet under my chin again. I can’t answer. There’s only been Dan, and a couple of five-minute sessions with guys from school, and I certainly wasn’t the focus. I’m uncomfortable. Sex is something I do, I don’t talk about it as well.

“I guess that’s no, then,” he says quietly and pushes my hair from my face. “I don’t understand guys like that. Having a woman really enjoying herself is the biggest f-ucking turn on.”

I chew a nail, increasingly out of my depth, and when he moves to kiss me again, I tense.

“Ruby… Come here.” Jem drags me onto his lap and looks up at me with darkened eyes. “I have fantasied about this for months so this isn’t going to be over quickly or without enthusiastic participation by you.” When I turn away, he takes my cheek and moves my head so I have to look straight at him. “Otherwise, I’m not doing this, okay?”

“Okay, but I don’t think I’m very good at… things,” I whisper, desperate for him to stop talking and do what he’s promising.

Jem traces the shape of the heart tattoo on my chest. “No problem, I’ll make everything about you this time, and then I can show you how to be good at things.” His eyes shine with the promise of his words as he looks up at me, a tug of a smile on his lips. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Holding my head, Jem kisses gently, tongue teasing my lips. His attempt to cool the situation won’t work; my awareness of Jem’s muscled body against mine, of his arousal pressing against my thigh takes me further from my anxiety. He slides his hands along my back, heating my skin with his gentle stroke. I shift closer, wanting harder kisses, to lose myself in us away from the awkward I created. The whole time, Jem holds me as if scared I’ll fall apart if he lets go, or he’ll break me if he embraces too tightly.

The kisses intensify, his hands harder against my skin, exploring every inch with his fingers, until I’m shaking with the need for him. Jem shifts me from his lap and we tip onto the bed; I lie on my side, wrapping my legs around his, not wanting to lose contact for a moment.

“You’re f-ucking beautiful, Ruby Tuesday.” The hoarseness in his voice and truth in his eyes almost makes me believe him. He spots my doubt. “And I won’t stop showing you until you believe me.”

“I’m okay with that.” I trace a finger along his firm abs, lower, and Jem inhales sharply as my hand moves to the band of his briefs.

He curls his fingers around mine. “Don’t. I am so f-ucking turned on right now; that’s not a good idea.”

My heated cheeks hide my reaction – not embarrassment but a pleasure in the fact I have this effect on him. I shift to face him. “Don’t stop.”

Jem grins. “Don’t worry about that.” He dips his head, leisurely moving his tongue across my collarbone to my b-reasts. I suppress a moan as he circles my nipple with his tongue before taking it in his mouth and sucking. Involuntarily, my body arches toward him and I grip his hair. His gentle touch changes, in response to my body’s desire for him to take over, the gasp that escapes showing I’m more than ready to be enthusiastic.

As he continues his attention to my b-reasts, Jem slides a hand down my side and pulls my leg over his hips, pressing himself against me. The evidence how turned on he is pushes against my thin cotton panties and adds to the gathering heat between my legs, the longing for his touch taking control of my thoughts.

I push my fingers into the knotted sinew of his shoulders, as Jem’s focus remains on my b-reasts and intensifies this ache. Every place on my skin Jem touches jolts arousal and I move against him. Weeks of wanting this, of fantasising about Jem wanting me, and I’m here.