The Will (Magdalene #1)(97)

Jake’s hand moved from between us and both of them slid up my inner thighs, the tape wrapping his hands coarse against my soft skin. He caught me behind the knees and yanked my legs high as he lifted his torso away and captured my gaze, his blazing, his eyes a remarkable midnight blue, his handsome face nearly savage with passion.

He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

And he kept taking me, pounding between my legs and it was arguable but this might have felt better than the time before and even during orgasm. Being in the moment, not lost to it, feeling every stroke, every inch, the power of his body, his fingers clamped tight around the delicate skin behind my knees, his grunts filling the room.

Then it happened. He drove in one last time, the entire table moved several inches and his head snapped back, the corded column of his throat exposed to me, veins standing out in his neck, his groan of release was loud and so unbelievably gratifying, it felt like I’d moved not a mountain but an entire range.

The Rockies.

The Himalayas.

The Andes.

All three.

His head dropped, his neck bent deep so I had a view to the back of it and his fingers clutched the backs of my knees as his h*ps powered out and in for one last glorious thrust that felt divine.

Finally, he stayed embedded.

He didn’t move.

I didn’t either.

Moments passed.

Suddenly, the effect of the last twenty minutes started reversing. Something was coating my skin. Covering me. Smothering me.

“Jake,” I whispered as he stayed in position, neck bent, apparently studying our connection.

The instant I said his name, his head shot back, his hands released my legs but they did this curling them around his back and he dropped his torso to mine.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

I opened my mouth but didn’t say anything when his hand came up, cupped my cheek and his thumb pressed against my lips.

“Don’t,” he repeated. “Don’t say anything, baby. Don’t think anything. Don’t be anything but with me. Not until I get you safe. Not until we can talk this out where I know you’re good. Promise me that.”

“I don’t—” I started, my lips moving under his thumb, but I stopped when he pressed in with his entire body.

“Promise me that, honey.” He was again whispering.

He held my eyes with his now beautiful blue ones and I let him do this for long moments.

Then I nodded.

I barely got that movement in before he pulled out. I felt my lips part at the unwelcome but still lovely sensation but I didn’t get to process it.

Jake reached beyond me to his bag. He came back with a towel and his eyes held mine as he gently pressed it between my legs, cleaning him from me.

I knew my face got soft because that felt rather nice and I knew this because his face reciprocated the gesture.

I couldn’t see me but I still would argue his look was better.

He tossed the towel somewhere I couldn’t see. I felt his hands working at his shorts before his fingers were at my hips. He yanked me roughly off the table but he didn’t let me teeter. One arm slid around me tight and held me to him as his fingers worked my skirt, yanking it back down. Then both hands were to my waist and I was up and my bottom was planted on the table.

Once he got me there, I watched him move quickly. His back to me, he went through the room, first picking up my purse and coat then moving to the wall to snatch up my panties.

I bit my lip when he did this and not in embarrassment. It was highly titillating watching Jake in boxing trunks seize my panties from the floor by the cinderblock wall where he’d first taken me.

It was not romantic in any sense.

But having been the one who experienced it, I knew it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me. In fact, I knew if any other woman had had it, she’d feel the same.

Yet, I was uncertain.

There was something wrong.

Something that needed to be made right.

This thought made my lips move and they moved to call a quiet, trembling, “Jake.”

He was on his way back to me and at his name, he did this swiftly. He dumped my purse and coat on the table beside me, wrapped a taped hand around my jaw and dipped his face close as he shoved my panties in his workout bag.

When my eyes went from his bag to his, he instantly started speaking.

“Stick with me,” he urged.

My voice was still trembling when I agreed, “All right.”

“All right, baby,” he said gently before he dipped his head and touched his mouth to mine.

And this time, having had him, having given him me, that touch was even sweeter.

After that, he wasted no time. He turned to his bag, dug out a workout jacket in navy blue and shrugged it on. Hands still taped, he tugged out a matching pair of pants and yanked them on over his trunks.

He zipped up the jacket before he pulled me from the table and grabbed my coat. He held it up for me and I turned in a circle, gliding my arms into the sleeves as he settled it on my shoulders.

Once my coat was on, he grabbed the strap on his bag, dropped it on his shoulder and dug into a side pouch, pulling out his keys. He then snatched up my purse and handed it to me.

I took it.

He took my hand and dragged me to the door. He unlocked it and dragged me out.

Immediately, he hauled me close, his hand dropping mine to clasp me around my shoulders and pull me so tight to his side I had to turn slightly, pressing my front to him to accommodate the demands of his arm.