Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3)(79)

Jacob faltered less than a foot away, looming over her like some sort of horny god. Behind his glasses, his eyes were dark and stormy, and his razor-sharp cheekbones were softened by that raspberry flush. “Where,” he asked tightly, “did you get that?”

“There’s a dispenser in the ladies’ at Mont’s pub.”

“And you—” Jacob dragged a hand through his hair, his expression almost pained. “You really spent this whole night planning to come home and sleep with me, didn’t you?”

It was all Eve could do not to purr at the dizzy satisfaction in his voice. “I thought you’d like that.”

“I like you,” he said roughly, taking that last step toward her. “I—Eve—”

“Mmm?” He sounded as if he was gearing up to say something, but Eve found her attention ensnared by his rather prominent erection. She’d taken her legs off the desk, so he was standing between her spread thighs, his waist at eye level. She only had to look down a tiny little bit, and her field of vision was dominated by the thickness in his jeans.

And gosh. Gosh. What, was he smuggling a butternut squash down there? The thing was obscene. Eve was absolutely thrilled.

“Eve . . .” he said. “Are you staring at my dick?”

“Of course I’m staring at your dick, darling. What did you think I was proposing we do, here?”

“I was hoping for more than staring, actually. I just—I think I forgot about the way you look at me.”

She tilted her head back, meeting his eyes, seeing a world of dark desires within that familiar frost. “And how do I look at you?” she whispered.

He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and pulled her gently to her feet. Then he said, “Like this,” and kissed her.

It felt like being consumed.

Jacob surrounded her—the clean, fresh scent of him, the heat and strength of him, the weight of his cast against the small of her back and the delicacy of his left hand on her cheek. He cradled her face and tipped her head back and nibbled at her lower lip, and when she gasped he kissed firmer, harder, more desperate, and sucked at the tip of her tongue. Eve had never had anyone suck her tongue before, but she decided from now on it would be a requirement.

And since she could no longer imagine kissing anyone who wasn’t Jacob, that struck her as just fine.

He pressed their bodies together tightly, so tightly, as if he wanted to push his way inside her. Then she felt the fat curve of his dick against her belly and remembered he did want to be inside her. They should make that happen soon. Very soon. But right now, she was a bit hazy and melty and all the other lovely, legless sensations that came with being so thoroughly kissed. He felt as if he adored her. As if everything between them was some kind of worship. As if she was more than good enough; she was the best he could ever have.

“Fuck me,” she breathed against his lips, and pushed him back against the desk.

“Foreplay,” he countered, but his own breaths were quick and harsh. He sat on the desk and ran his shaking hand from her cheek down to her throat. “The first time I saw you, I wanted to touch you right here.”

“Before I opened my mouth, you mean.”

“Yes. And now you’ve opened your mouth many, many times, and I want to touch you even more.” Gently, he wrapped his hand around her throat and pulled her closer. Then he bent his head and grazed his teeth over the bare, tender curve where her neck met her shoulder. A shiver zipped between Eve’s breasts and spiraled through the softening heat of her cunt. She moaned, and he kissed the place he’d barely bitten, hot and wet and decadent.

“I want to learn every single sound you make,” he said softly. “I want to be the one who brings you pleasure. Every time. Can I?” His hand went from her throat to her breast. He traced a finger over the edge of her dress for a second before pushing the bodice down in one decisive move.

Eve’s breath caught, coalescing into a gasp that remained trapped in her chest. All she could hear was the thud of her own pulse, all she could feel was cool air and Jacob’s hot gaze on her nipples, as tangible as a touch.

“Say yes,” he murmured, and cupped her in that squeezing, shameless way he had, as if he could spend a lifetime doing nothing but this.

“Yes,” she managed, the word shuddering out of her as she arched into his hand.

“Tell me I’m yours now,” he ordered, quiet but immovable. He licked his thumb, then touched her other breast. Circled her nipple with that firm, slick pressure while his words infected her blood.

Tell me I’m yours now. It felt as if he’d given her all his secret tenderness, just handed it to her and asked her to take care of it. And she would. She couldn’t do anything but. Only—the moment seemed so solemn, she felt a little guilty for finding it mind-blowingly hot as well.

But that couldn’t be helped. Because here was Jacob, studying her with steely intensity, touching her like he owned her, asking her to own him. So, really, was it any wonder she wanted to rip his clothes off?

“You’re mine,” she agreed, unbuttoning his shirt, “and you’re impossibly hot, Jacob Wayne. Did you know that?”

He smiled a little, that cautious curve of the lips that made her heart flutter. “I try. Since I know you like it, and all.”

“Oh—so you know what a mess you make of me.” She couldn’t stop her own smile, even as fire pulsed through her veins and his bare chest became visible, inch by inch.