The Wright Brother(31)

I took a few tentative steps inside as Jensen got to work. The cabin was even more spectacular on the inside with high vaulted ceilings and dark wood beams bisecting the room. The hardwood floors were a dark glossy finish, and a bricked fireplace took up half of one wall in the living room. It had clearly been professionally decorated, and it was the first time tonight that I remembered that Jensen owned and ran Wright Construction and had more money than God.

The wooden crate was behind the brown leather couch, and I fished out a half-dozen blankets. I still wasn’t sure if that was going to be enough to keep me warm in the meantime, but it was a start.

I burrowed into the blankets, trying to warm up my extremities. Jensen appeared with a bag of twigs and an armful of firewood. The kindling took a while to ignite, but once it started going, he was able to add logs to it pretty easily. Jensen cut the overhead light and let the flames bathe the living room in a soft glow and easy warmth.

“Why don’t you come get closer to the fire?” he suggested.

A sheepskin rug lay in front of the fireplace. I couldn’t tell if it was real or fake, and I shuddered. “Did that thing used to be alive?”

“Synthetic,” he told me. “Just as warm.”

I relaxed, grabbed the blankets, and carried them over to the rug. Jensen grabbed a pair of red pillows from the couch and tossed them to me. Then, he disappeared into the kitchen. After the sound of a loud pop, he came out a few minutes later with a tray in his hands.

He offered me a glass of red wine with a smile. “I hope you like red.”

“Red or champagne.” I took a sip and nearly groaned again. This was the good stuff.

“And since we didn’t get to do s’mores”—he placed the tray off to the side, pointing at the bars of Hershey’s chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows in bowls atop it—“I thought this would have to do.”

“This had better be a dessert wine,” I joked.

He grinned and took the seat next to me, throwing a blanket over his lap. I reached for a marshmallow and popped it into my mouth. Jensen’s eyes caught on my lips, and I almost forgot that I was still holding a full glass of wine. I took a good long sip to steel my nerves, and then I placed the glass to the side.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were seducing me,” I teased.

“I think I made my intentions pretty clear in the truck.” His hand slid up the leg of my jeans under the blanket and then across the top of my thigh.

My breath hitched, and for the first time, I realized that I was nervous. Not of the situation. This seemed magical. But of Jensen. I’d spent much of my life thinking he was entirely out of my league, and even when I despised their family, I never thought I was above them but certainly not on level footing either.

“But,” he said, stopping his hand and then moving back to my knee, “I would be okay if you just wanted a nice fire, some good wine, and deconstructed s’mores. I could get you home at a semi decent hour even.”

I swallowed all the apprehension I’d been feeling.

Who said I couldn’t be on a level playing field with a Wright? Just because they had money and prestige didn’t mean shit. Jensen wanted me, and I definitely fucking wanted him. Stopping myself from having the hottest rebound of my life sounded ludicrous.

“What happened to, don’t plan on getting any sleep tonight?” I whispered huskily. I leaned forward, sliding his hand back up my leg.

My own hands moved to the hem of his T-shirt and ran along the exposed skin just north of his jeans. He inhaled deeply at my bold move. Whatever hesitation I’d had from my discomfort or the sudden change of plans disappeared at that touch.

He shoved one of his hands up into my hair and kissed me like a dying man begging for his last breath. Our bodies were perfectly in sync. One moving against the other in harmony, unbroken by any of the million little thoughts that had flitted through my mind before coming to this moment. There was only me and Jensen. And I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted or needed.

Heat suffused us from the warmth of the roaring fire in the grate and the friction we were creating with our bodies. Jensen’s mouth on mine pulled the pin on a grenade, and as his hands dragged my shirt over my head and slipped me out of my jeans, the tension exploded between us.

I forgot that I had once been cold and just marveled in everything that was Jensen Wright. I kissed my way down every inch of his six-pack abs. Then, I unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants to his ankles. He bulged out of his boxer briefs, and I licked my lips. I was one of those freaks of nature who loved giving blow jobs. I loved making a man squirm underneath my ministrations. And Jensen certainly didn’t object when I removed him from his pants and dropped my mouth over the head of his dick.