He nods, his eyes locking on mine, holding me there in his gaze until it feels like my lungs might explode right out of my chest.
“Is there anyone else, Lara?”
“No.” I pause. “Is there… for you?”
“Never.” His voice is low, almost imperceptible. It feels like time has become a loose, stretched-out thing moving around us. I’m afraid to breathe in case I might shatter the moment.
The logical version of me, in the back of my mind, is screaming that this might be a bad idea — that there are already so many complicated, tangled emotions between Jake and me. That we should wait. That maybe this ship has already sailed.
So, I listen to my logical self, clearing my throat and taking a step back, shattering the moment.
Until Jake reaches out, takes my wrist in his hand, and pulls me back to him, capturing my mouth with his.
CHAPTER 24
JAKE
The second my lips touch Lara’s, the world goes utterly, blissfully blank.
I don’t think about the team, about this town, about Lawrence at the bar or my dad’s journals at home.
The only thing on my mind is the feeling of her lips against mine. The taste of her, lost to me for the past five years, returns suddenly and completely like the first bite of your favorite ice cream on a hot day.
“Jake,” she whispers, and I pull back, breathing hard, looking her over. Looking for any sign that she might not want this, that I might be asking for too much.
I really, really fucking hope not.
But she hooks her fingers through my belt loops, tugging me in her direction, toward her bed.
A full-body shudder rolls through me at the realization that this is happening.
“Lara,” I breathe when she strips her shirt off, throwing it across the room. I lose mine too, and we take a second to marvel at the ways we’ve changed.
Her body is different — her stomach softer, and her hips more pronounced. As a teenager, she was a skinny thing, bones and sharp angles, but now she’s all curves, all hills and valleys. Her breasts nearly spill over her bra cups, and it actually makes my mouth water.
When she swallows, her eyes wandering up my body and catching my gaze, I realize she’s nervous.
“I know I don’t look the same?—”
“Yeah,” I laugh, shaking my head and taking her into my arms, lowering her down onto the bed. “You look better, Lara. You look like something I could eat.”
The idea is inspiring, so I push her down onto the bed, slide her panties down her legs, and throw them so they join her shirt somewhere in the void.
“Oh,” she says, like the thought had never occurred to her, and I wonder if anyone else has touched her like this. The thought of it makes a growl catch low in my throat, some sort of animalistic, possessive pressure making me grip her hips, draw my tongue up and through her until she claps her hand over her mouth, eyes shutting, back arching into the mattress.
I reach up, catch her elbow, and draw her hand down to mine.
“I want to hear you say my name,” I rasp before returning to her, making slow circles with my tongue, tightening the circles until her hips buck against me, pleading for more.
And she says my name, the word coming out in two syllables, gasping with pleasure. If anyone else has touched her like this in the past five years, I want to make sure I’m the best of them.
When I slide two fingers inside her, she clenches around me, crying out and coming, and I taste her on my tongue.
She’s still breathing hard when I climb up over her, fingers trailing over every part of her body. I want to map her, get to know this new body. Discover all the ways she’s changed in the past five years.
“Jake,” she breathes, eyes fluttering open to find mine.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask, eyes dropping to her mouth, head already dipping with the urge.
