Waiting for You(11)

He pulled away from her and reached behind him for the doorknob. “I’ll come back at eight in the morning. Good night, Erin.”

She should let him go. Everything about him was telling her to back off, his body language as clear as an animal’s with its hackles raised and a low growl in its throat.

Instead she stepped close again, although she didn’t touch him this time. “Stay,” she said again.

For a moment he was still. She heard the rasp of his breath, the voice of the wind outside.

Then, slowly, he reached up a hand to cup the side of her face.

The feel of his rough palm on her skin awoke something inside her. Up until this moment, she would have sworn her only desire was to comfort him, to be a friend, to give him shelter from the storm outside.

Now she knew better.

She stared up at him, caught by the expression in his blue eyes. The mask had fallen away and she was looking at Jake, the real Jake, in the grip of raw emotions that seemed almost too much for him.

His pupils dilated until his eyes were almost black. She’d seen that happen to him once before. The memory made her heart pound, sending blood rushing to her cheeks.

He spoke her name in a whisper, ragged and uncertain. “Erin...”

She couldn’t speak. She was trembling, and she could have sworn that he was, too.

They were teetering on the edge of a cliff. A single touch would send them over.

Erin wasn’t an impulsive person. She wasn’t the type to get swept away by desire, or let her heart rule her head.

Except when it came to Jake. Eleven years ago he’d given her her first kiss, and no other had ever come close. She knew how rare this feeling was—for her, anyway. If she didn’t act on it now, she might never feel this way again.

She turned her head and pressed a kiss into his palm.

He inhaled sharply. “Erin…”

She heard the struggle in his voice, could see it in his eyes.

“Erin,” he said again, sounding almost desperate. Then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

He was gentle at first, his lips just brushing hers as his hand moved to cradle the back of her neck. Then her head fell back as he deepened the kiss, trapping her between his strong hand and the increasing pressure of his mouth.

The world fell away. When Jake froze for just an instant, she knew he felt it, too.

He slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him.

His kiss was more demanding now, his body hard and hot. She tugged impatiently at his jacket, and when he shrugged out of it, never taking his mouth from hers, she could finally run her hands over the corded muscles of his arms with only his shirt in the way.

But it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel his bare skin. She fumbled with his shirt, and when his tongue slid into her mouth she pulled so hard she heard buttons pop.

She jerked away, mortified, but Jake shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Jake, I’m so—”

“Don’t worry,” he said again, undoing the last few buttons himself and letting the shirt slide to the floor.

There it was—the bare skin she craved so badly. She pressed her palms against his chest and he took a shuddering breath. When she kissed him there she could feel his heart pounding.

He slid both hands into her hair and took the pins from her chignon, one by one. Her scalp tingled as sensation rolled over her in waves. When her hair was loose he ran his hands through it again and again, murmuring something incoherent.

Then his lips were on her hair and along her jaw line and caressing her neck, and all she could do was grab his shoulders and hang on.

His hand moved to the back of her dress, and a metallic whisper and the brush of his fingertips made her catch her breath.

But he only lowered the zipper a few inches. “Once I take this off I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. Do you have condoms?”

A cold rush of reality broke through the sensual fog she’d been floating in.

Condoms. Because they were going to have sex.

Something she’d never done before and hadn’t been planning to do tonight, which was why there were, in fact, no condoms in her house.

Her mouth felt dry. “Don’t you have some?” She’d been under the impression that men never went anywhere without them.

He kissed a path along her collarbone. “God, I hope so. I might have some in the truck.”

He wasn’t sure? “How long has it been since you—” She stopped, suddenly embarrassed.

“Long enough that I don’t remember if I have condoms in the glove compartment or not. How about you?” he asked softly, his mouth close to her ear and his hand caressing the bare skin of her back.

Now she was caught flat-footed, with no idea of what to say. How would he react if she told him the truth?