Straight Up Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor #2)(41)
I gasp as he swirls his tongue around it and sucks hard. “Jake.”
“Yeah?” He moves on to the next finger, and I hear my ragged inhale, because hell, that’s hot. My insides are melting, and all my blood is in the fast lane to a single destination between my legs. I shift in my seat and squeeze my thighs together. “You have donut glaze all over your fingers,” he says, as if this explains what he’s doing to me. As if it’s completely normal. As if he sucks sugar off my fingers all the time.
“Levi and Colton are racing in Detroit next weekend,” he says. “Do you want to go with me? Watch the race? Go to dinner? Stay in the city overnight?”
“Yeah.” I nod. But I’m not thinking about the race. I’m thinking about the scrape of his teeth on my fingertips. I’m thinking about a hotel room with Jake. I’m thinking of the words he whispered like an oath before leaving my house last night.
When I’m finally inside you, it’ll be because you want me there, because you’re begging to have me there.
I’ll never again be able to take a bite of a burger without thinking about sex. “Will we . . . share a room?” Will we have sex? Will I kill the mood by panicking again?
“Is that okay with you?” He turns my hand and nibbles on my knuckles, the scrape of teeth followed by the hot tip of his tongue.
“Yeah, sure, why not? I mean, it’s not a big deal, and it might be convenient to be in the same room when we . . . I mean, if we . . . I mean, it works, right? I just need to figure out what to pack and stuff. I never know what to wear to those things.” Dear Lord, make me stop talking.
He looks me over, a smirk tugging at one side of his mouth as he drags his gaze down the length of me, as if he has x-ray vision and can see me through the desk and my clothes. “Why don’t you wear those shorts you wear to garden?”
“My old cutoffs?”
He lifts his eyes to mine and gives a cocky nod. “Yeah. I really like those.”
My cheeks heat. Jake and I don’t say stuff like that to each other. There aren’t moments in our relationship when he flirts with me or speaks in innuendo. That’s not the kind of relationship we have. Then again, he’s never sucked on my fingers before tonight either, and I’m not complaining about that, am I? “I’m not wearing my cutoffs in public.”
Smiling, he opens my palm and presses a kiss right in the center—first lips, then the briefest touch of his tongue. My back arches. I want to catapult myself out of this seat and onto his lap. I want to claim all the dirty promises he’s making with his lips and tongue.
“So those are only for me to enjoy when we’re alone together?” he asks.
I blink at him. Straddling his lap would be heaven. I want the hard length of him pressed between my legs and his mouth . . . What has gotten into me? “What?”
“The cutoffs?” He shakes his head slowly. “You’re so fucking cute when you blush. You know that?” He puts my hand down and stands. “But Cindy’s going to kill me if I leave her out there alone much longer.” He winks at me, then turns the knob to open the office door.
Another woman might let him leave then touch herself to relieve this pulsing ache between her legs. Another woman might tell him not to go and climb him like a tree. Another woman might not instantly ruin the moment with worry.
I bolt up from my chair and chase him out of the office. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
He stops and turns in the middle of the kitchen. “Do what?”
I bite my lip and look away. “I don’t know. Flirt with me, I guess. Seduce me with . . .” I swallow, a delicious chill running up my spine with the thought of his hot mouth on my skin. Are knuckles an erogenous zone? Because I’m pretty sure Jake just made them into one. “With your mouth. You don’t have to. You’re doing me a favor. It’s not like I expect you to . . .”
“Because you have lube?”
My jaw drops, and I swing my gaze back to him and glare. “Oh my God, if you say that word one more time, I’ll kill you.”
He stalks toward me, something different in his eyes. Something darker and more intent than the playful Jake who sucked my fingers, and I back up until my legs hit the cold stainless steel of the walk-in cooler. He puts a hand on either side of my head and leans in, his body close to mine. Our gazes tangle for long, silent beats before he finally speaks. “I don’t have to seduce you, or you don’t want me to?”
I lick my lips. My heart is pounding, my body asking for so much more than I should ever want from Jake. “I don’t think we need to over-complicate this.”
His gaze drops to my lips. “Does it make you uncomfortable when I’m close to you?”
I swallow. “A little.”
“Why is that, Ava?” He dips his head, and his mouth is so close to mine that speaking or moving at all feels intimate. “I know you feel this. I see it in your eyes.” He tilts his head to the side and runs the bridge of his nose along the column of my neck. “In the flush of your skin,” he whispers in my ear. “I hear it in the hitch of your breath. And before you threw the brakes on your own pleasure last night, I could feel it in the arch of your back, and the way your hips moved under me like you wanted to rub against me.”
My eyes float closed. His voice is low and husky, and I want more of his words so much right now. “We’re friends, Jake.”