“Hello? Where’s your mind right now?”
Maria blinked and brought Jake back into focus. “I was thinking about Carol not having the money to pay her mortgage. I want to help.” Well, she had been thinking that earlier. He’d put her hand on his thigh after kissing her fingers, and he gently squeezed it.
“Liar. That’s not what you were thinking, but you own your thoughts and only need to share them if you want. As for the mortgage payment, Eddie took care of it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, told me when I offered our help. He was rather proud of himself, so I didn’t want to hurt his manly pride and insist.”
“He’s a nice kid. I’m glad he’s there for Angie and her mom.” And Jake had no idea how much it meant to her that he said she owned her thoughts. Jonathan would’ve hammered at her until she spilled, then would end up either mad or lecturing her.
She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and blanked her mind to all but the feel of Jake’s thigh under her hand. He had on a pair of slacks, the material soft and thin. His heat warmed her palm and she began caressing him with the tips of her fingers. A muscle twitched under her touch and she inched her way to the inside of his thigh.
He moved her hand closer to his knee. “Easy, Chiquita. You come much closer to the family jewels and I’m gonna wreck this car. As it is, I’m having a tough time not putting the pedal to the floor and getting us home ASAP.”
Her apprehension returned. He seemed to really want her. What if she disappointed him? As the daughter of a whore, Maria Kincaid—of all women—should know how to please a man.
Too soon, he turned into the driveway. She considered asking if they could drive around for a while, but that would be cowardly and she’d only have longer to worry. She put her hand on the door handle, but he reached over and stopped her.
“Wait. I’ll come around. But first, I need to do this.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. No tongue, no roaming hands, just a soft kiss that promised more. Not only did he open her door, but he slipped his arms under her knees and shoulders and carried her inside.
“I can walk.”
His lips curved into a crooked grin. “I know.”
As his mouth was glued to hers for most of the way to the house, it amazed her he didn’t trip and land them both on their bottoms. With her help, they got the door unlocked, and once inside, he slammed it shut with his foot, then carried her straight into his bedroom.
He laid her on the bed, and Mouse jumped up and sat on her stomach.
“Oh no you don’t, you fleabag,” Jake said. He picked up the cat and put him in the hallway, closing the door. A loud protest sounded from the other side.
“He just wanted to say hi.”
Jake’s gaze roamed over her, starting at her feet and working his way up. “I plan to apply my tongue to various parts of your body, and I don’t want to choke on cat hair.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
She was fairly certain he was about to teach her how it should feel to be with a man. He prowled toward her—his eyes locked on hers—while unbuttoning his shirt. Her heartbeat notched up along with her intake of air. Her fingers fumbled with the top button of her blouse.
“Don’t.”
Was she doing something wrong already? She stilled, searching his eyes for censure. Please, don’t let him be like Jonathan. He sat on the edge of the mattress, his shirt left on but unbuttoned. With his hands on either side of her head, he leaned down and nipped at her bottom lip.
He sat back and trailed a finger along the edge of her red lacey bra. “I’ll undress you, Chiquita. It’s all I’ve thought about doing all night.”
“Oh, okay.” With difficulty, she lifted her gaze from the expanse of his chest and its dusting of brown hair.
With a tilt of his head, he gave her a funny look. “You have done this before, haven’t you? And I can’t tell you how much I hope your answer is a yes.”
Speech had moved into the realm of impossible, so she nodded.
“Thank God.”
He scooted back and slipped off her heels, dropping them to the floor, then wrapped a hand around the back of her ankle while his thumb kneaded the bottom of her foot.
“I need to go shopping tomorrow.” Where had that come from? Before she blurted out all her insecurities left over from Jonathan, she should slap some duct tape over her mouth.
The hand massaging her foot stopped. “I beg your pardon.”