Rescued by Love(15)

Damn. That’s the girl I know. She rocked against his tongue as he teased and tasted, pushing two of his fingers deep inside her and earning another greedy moan. He glanced up, catching her staring as he feasted on her, taking her expertly up to the edge of release, then slowing his efforts to keep her orgasm just out of reach.

“Jake,” she pleaded, moving her fingers faster. “Please.”

The feel of her thighs on his cheeks and the sexy little murmurs coming from his girl nearly made him lose it. He grabbed her hips, devouring her sex, and gave her what she craved. A stream of erotic sounds sailed from her lungs at the same time he realized in his mind that she was already his girl, despite what she admitted. Emotions bubbled up inside him as she lost control, making it that much sweeter.

He rose to his feet and gathered her in his arms. “We’re a thing, Addy. A very good thing.”

She let out a long, dreamy sigh. “We’re something, but I think it’s more like really good sex partners.”

“Like hell,” he growled. “You’re pesty. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

She tipped her face up toward him and smiled. “Usually they say I’m a pain in the ass. But I like your word better.” She shifted her eyes over his shoulder and gasped. “Oh no. Gabby’s coming over and now I have to shower again.”

He chuckled, watching her sweet ass as she ran into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

“You smell like me,” she called out to him. “You can wash up in here.”

He heard the shower door close as he stripped off his shirt and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“I don’t mean to leave you hanging, but I’m supposed to meet Gab—”

He opened the shower door, and her eyes dropped to his very hungry python.

“What are you doing?”

He stepped into the shower. “You said I could wash up in here.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, but her giggle and the way her eyes darkened told him he wasn’t overstepping his bounds as much as he was turning her on. “I meant in the sink.”

“My bad.” He grabbed a bottle of body wash and poured it into his palm.

“Jake,” she said, eyeing his junk as he lowered her hands to her sides. “We’re not a thing.”

“A gentleman always takes care of his girl.” He began washing her neck, rubbing the knots from her shoulders and massaging each arm as he washed them.

“I’m not your girl.” That dreamy voice came out to play again.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He washed her breasts, and her breathing quickened. As he washed her ribs, she placed her soft hand on his hip. “Don’t even think about getting dirty with me, sexy girl. You have a party to get to.”

He took his time, washing her hips, her thighs, running his hands all the way down to her slender ankles. As he made his way back up her body, washing as he went, it took all his restraint not to back her up against the tile wall and bury himself deep inside her. His hands moved over her tattoo, seeing it clearly for the first time. Heavy chains encased a weathered box with thickly stitched seams that looked like sewn-up gashes. He glanced up at her and she covered it with her hand.

“Why chains, baby?”

“Please don’t,” she said in such a vulnerable voice it killed him.

He pressed his lips to the tattoo, growing more possessive of her by the second. All sorts of meanings for the tattoo plagued him as he circled her body, washing her back and shoulders. None of them were good or happy or even moderately acceptable. He gathered her close from behind and kissed her cheek, wanting desperately for her to let him in.

She sighed.

“You okay?”

“No,” she said softly, but it was a confused answer, not distraught. “What are we doing, Jake?”

He turned her in his arms, needing to see her face. Her sweet, perplexed smile brought another rush of emotions. “I don’t know, but I like it. It feels right.”

She held on to his hips and touched her forehead to the center of his chest. “I don’t do this.”

“Shower? Because I’m pretty sure you were showering when I heard you call out my name.”

She lifted her eyes to his. He smiled down at her and touched his lips to hers in a kiss so tender it struck him that he’d never kissed anyone like that before.

“This, Jake. You and me. You probably don’t even want this to be that serious either, but if you do, you’re looking for something I can’t give you. I’m not the kind of girl you need.”

“You don’t have to hide your past, Addy,” he said seriously. “I get it, and I can deal with it.”

“Not that. This. Us. I don’t know how to be whatever it is you want me to be.” She lifted serious eyes to him, but he thought they looked a bit sad, too.

“Just be yourself. I like who you are. Sassy mouth and all.” He shifted their positions so she was beneath the water and washed the soap from her skin.

“Addy?” Gabriella called from outside the bathroom door.

“Shit. Shh.” She put her finger over his mouth and called out, “I’ll meet you at the beach. I’m running a little late.”

There was no response. Addy closed her eyes, hands fisted, and mouthed, Please go away. Please go away. “Okay, Gab?”

“I’m going,” Gabriella said through the door. “Duke said if I saw Jake to tell him to hurry up. I assume seeing his clothes counts.”

If looks could kill, he’d be lying dead on a very beautiful woman’s shower floor. But her actions had betrayed her true feelings just as they had earlier, her fingers curling around his wrist as she rested her cheek against his chest, telling him he was exactly where she wanted him after all.



“I’M SO GLAD the paparazzi are gone.” Trish gazed out at the water with one hand on her hip, the other holding a wineglass, complete with a tiny plastic man in a speedo hanging off the rim—one of her bachelorette party decorations.

“Boone and Duke’s plan was genius,” Gabriella said, topping off her glass. “I’m just glad it worked. I had serious doubts.” Like horses chasing carrots, the story-hungry reporters had followed the models disguised as Trish and Boone away from the island.

“They were making Boone crazy,” Trish admitted. “He gets so protective.”

Maggie, Boone’s sister, laughed and shook her head. She’d arrived earlier in the afternoon with the rest of Boone’s family. She was outgoing and friendly, and had immediately clicked with the girls. “That sounds like my brother. He’s spent his life watching over everyone.”

“That’s one of the reasons I love him so much,” Trish admitted. “I love how protective he is.”

“Did I ever tell you about when I first met Cash? I thought he was pushy, overprotective, and…” The reflection of the bonfire danced in Siena’s mischievous eyes. “So frigging hot, it made him even more annoying.”

“To hot, overprotective men,” Lizzie said, lifting her glass.

Addy sipped her wine as they toasted, unsure how she felt about the whole overprotective thing. The chilly evening breeze sent their hair whipping across their faces and their dresses swishing around their legs. But Addy barely noticed the inconvenience. After nearly two hours, and two glasses of wine, she was still trying to untangle the web of emotions clouding her thoughts. She felt guilty for not revealing the meaning of her tattoo to Jake, but she sort of already had. Pandora’s box. Her grandmother’s words were always with her, like the tattoo. Pride, lust, and anger aren’t deadly sins, Addison. They’re your saviors. Own them. They’ll empower you with the ability to take what you want and always be in control. Harness the power to speak your mind, or you’ll fall into the same loveless marriage your mother and I did. Obviously harnessing the power of those things wasn’t a problem.

Her grandmother had been married prior to marrying the man Addy had known as her grandfather. Her grandmother had described her first husband as wild and passionate as a winter storm. She’d said they’d fought—and loved—like their lives depended on it, and he’d respected her need for independence in a time when women were taught to cater to their men. They’d been married for only a few years when he was killed in the war, leaving her grandmother with a new baby girl to raise alone. She’d married her second husband with the hopes of finding true love again, but like Addy’s father, he had negated her need to speak her mind at every turn. He treated her like a precious jewel, which would be nice for someone who didn’t care about making decisions or doing what she wanted when she wanted to. Addy’s grandmother wasn’t that type of woman, and it was no secret that she had resigned herself to the role women of her time were taught to abide, citing her need for a stable home to raise Addy’s mother.

Addy placed her hand over her tattoo, thinking of the warning her grandmother had given her in her last hours of life, when she’d pushed Addy to find someone like her first husband. Her true love. You’re a winter storm, Addison. Any man short of a stormy night will suck the life right out of you. Don’t let anyone take your passion away. Lock it up tight and find your stormy night. True love comes only once, and only a love of that magnitude can survive the combined power of a winter storm and a stormy night.