I nod. “Yes.”
He sweeps me up, gathering me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. My heart pounds as he carries me to the bedroom. His chest presses against mine, steady, strong, reassuring. He closes the door without looking away, those eyes locking me in place.
Shivers race down my spine.
The air thickens, humming with anticipation, like a storm about to break.
He sets me down, hands lingering on my hips. “You’re sure?” he asks again, softer this time, almost reverent.
I hold his gaze, my pulse wild. “I’m sure.”
Watching him, I pull my sweater over my head and let it fall. I slide out of my jeans until I stand before him in my underwear. Cool air touches my skin. Desire flares in his eyes, his jaw tense.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words barely above a whisper.
“For someone so competitive, you’re behind,” I tease, voice trembling with excitement.
When he grins, the tension evaporates. He peels off his shirt. His body is lean and defined, evidence of years of hard work. His jeans and briefs join mine on the floor.
I draw a sharp breath. “Oh.”
He notices. Amusement flickers in his eyes. “Everything okay?”
A nervous laugh escapes. “Ifokaymeans slightly intimidated, then yes.”
His teasing vanishes. He steps closer, guiding me gently until my knees touch the bed.
“We fit,” he promises, hands steady on my waist. “We always have.”
His words sink in, and something lets go inside me.
He lowers me onto the sheets and stretches out beside me. His mouth finds my neck, hot and searching. I arch beneath him, fingertips digging into his shoulders.
“Jack,” I gasp as his teeth graze my pulse point, making me shudder.
His hand moves down, skimming across my stomach, then slipping his fingers into my folds. His touch is slow, knowing. He takes his time, coaxing me apart, letting desire build until I’m barely breathing.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs.
I lose myself in sensation until I’m trembling. Each stroke is intentional; he knows exactly what I need.
When he finally settles above me, he meets my gaze, serious. “Tell me you want this.”
My voice is a whisper. “I want you.”
He kisses me, slow and deep, then pushes inside. At first, I tense, but he moves carefully, giving me time.
“Okay?” he rasps.
I nod, wrapping my legs around his hips. “More,” I whisper.
He groans and begins to move—slow at first, deliberate. The world narrows to the feel of him, the heat, the steady, exquisite pressure building inside me. I cling to him, anchoring us both.
His voice is ragged. “You feel incredible.”
Words fail me. There’s only sensation—the rush, the fullness, the way he seems to know every part of me.
Then I explode. “Jack! Oh, God!” I clutch him, the world dissolving.
