Naked Love(60)

And this is why I’m on the road to nowhere with this woman—and with no incentive to rush a single moment. I get to see something I’m sure no human before me has ever truly seen. It’s pretty fucking incredible.

“Real sexy, huh?” Insecurity. I hate the insecurity in her voice.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I lift her from the counter.

“Jake—”

I silence her with a hard look two seconds before kissing her. With no knowledge of what’s in the back of the laundromat, I walk us toward two vending machines down a small hallway ending in a “staff only” door.

It’s a little dark and a lot cramped, but I don’t need any light or much space to make my point.

Her sundress.

Her sans-panties body.

It’s almost wrong to not do this right here, right now.

I wedge us into the four-foot space between the two machines, pin her back to one of them, and free myself from my jeans. Messy, disheveled, giggles-at-animal-genitalia-jokes Avery has me very hard at the moment. And completely out of my mind.

“Jake, not … here …” Her protest evaporates into the musty air between us as I fill her with every inch of my cock.

We kiss, tongues making desperate jabs into each other’s mouths as her hands ball into tight fists filled with my hair.

I growl.

She tightens her grip.

I slide my hands to hold her bare ass as I fuck her harder, rattling the vending machine, attempting to infuse some sense into her. She’s worthy of whatever the hell she wants in life.

We all are.

Her legs tighten around my waist as I pick up the pace. What is she doing to me? When did my despise morph into such an uncontrollable need? I feel like a horny teenager possessed with the need to get off all day long.

The front door creaks open.

“Jake—”

“Shh …” I kiss her harder, fuck her faster.

Two vending machines hide us in a dim hallway. Eighties music stutters out of old speakers to block our noise. We’ve got this. And even if someone heads toward us, I can’t stop.

It’s not just me. Avery rocks her pelvis in a clawing rhythm to get off before time runs out.

That’s all it takes for me to release. “God … damn …” I bite her neck to muffle my pleasure.

“No …” Avery yanks my hair again, hips grinding frantically as I still.

“Let it go.” I chuckle, thrusting into her several more times as my right thumb finds her clit.

“Yes … yes … yesss …” she whispers out of breath.

With my final thrust to get her off, something clinks and thunks into the bottom opening of the vending machine at Avery’s back.

Avery lifts her head, flushed from neck to forehead. She grins, realizing we just rattled out a snack. “Dibs.”

She can have dibs on the candy bar. I want dibs on her.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN




Avery


“Swarley won’t eat his chew stick.” Twisted in my seat, I frown at a drowsy Swarley as we make our way to the Grand Canyon.

“It’s hot. He’s probably just tired.” Jake gives me a quick sidelong glance.

“It’s buffalo and honey, his favorite. He always scarfs it down. I’m worried something is wrong with him.”

“Well, I can call a friend of mine. She’s a vet, moved from L.A. to Flagstaff two years ago.”

She.

Why am I tripping over that? I don’t want to be that girl. Not with Jake. Yet … I’m that girl. Gah!

“That would be great. I can’t kill Swarley. My sister will never forgive me.”

Jake chuckles. “Killing someone’s dog is pretty unforgivable. So is poisoning them.”

“So is depriving someone of a proper shower.”

“Poisoning and shower deprivation. Yeah, those are on the same level.”

“Don’t be bitter.” I slide off my sandals and prop my feet up on the dash for two seconds before my gnarly, un-manicured feet frighten me into dropping them back to the floor.

“Don’t be self-conscious.” He hands me another quick look with a knowing smirk.

I want to go home, and yet I don’t. Everything will change when we get to L.A. How can it not? I live there. Jake lives in Milwaukee. That’s a lot of miles to solve.

“Your mom. Is she why you eat the way you do? Is she why you take such good care of your body?” I grunt a laugh. “That’s actually odd if the answer is yes because you were a fighter. You let people beat the shit out of you. That’s the opposite of taking care of your body. Right?”

“I was the guy beating the shit out of other fighters. But thanks, Ave, for assuming I suck.” He grabs my knee and squeezes it until I jump.

Why does Jake the fighter turn me on? I’m not a violent person nor have I ever been into watching any sort of fighting. I don’t even care for action movies. Yet the idea of Jake winning fights makes me squirm in my seat, well, that and the memories of the laundromat.

“Why? Was it for the money?” I grab his hand on my knee and bring it to my lips, kissing his knuckles one at a time.

“The money was good. But no, that’s not why I started fighting. My uncle was a fighter. When he saw me spiraling out of control after my mom died, he trained me, put me in the ring, and told me to fight the demons. I did. I fought my father, the memories of my mother losing herself, the kids who made fun of her right in front of me. Everything … I just kept knocking everything down. I was never going to use food the way my mom did. I was never going to take another snide remark from my father. I wanted—I needed—total control of my life.”