Page 21

I take a bite of the chicken, letting the flavors bloom on my tongue. "Is that your scholarly way of saying I'm a distraction?"

"You're more of an... unexpected variable." His eyes lock with mine over his wine glass. "One I find myself unwilling to eliminate from the equation."

Heat creeps up my neck. "Now you're just showing off with the academic talk."

"Is it working?"

I kick his foot under the table. "Maybe."

We eat between loaded glances and light touches, our conversation drifting between playful banter and comfortable silence. Every time our eyes meet, the air seems to crackle with unspoken possibilities.

The night air nips at my exposed arms as we walk down my street, but Jack's warmth beside me keeps the chill at bay. Our shoulders bump occasionally, sending little sparks through my body each time.

I pause at my building's steps, fishing for my keys. The streetlight catches the remnants of flour still dusting his shirt. "Would you like to come up for some… coffee?"

Jack's eyes darken, and he takes a half-step closer.

Instead of answering, he leans down and captures my mouth with his. The kiss is different from our rooftop encounter - slower, deeper, more deliberate. His other hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head as he angles me just so. My keys clatter to the ground, forgotten as I grip his shirt.

He tastes like the wine from dinner, rich and intoxicating. My back meets the cool brick of my building as he presses closer, his body a solid wall of heat against mine. When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard.

CHAPTER13

JACK

Ipush her through the doorway, my hands already tangled in her hair, her fingers clawing at the back of my shirt. The door slams shut behind us, the sound echoing sharper than it should. The apartment’s dim glow—just the city light filtering through the blinds—illumes her face, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed.

“Big plans for tonight?” I mouth against her ear, nipping at the lobe. She shivers, her hands slipping up my chest to lock around my neck.

“Wasn’t expecting company,” she breathes, her voice a low hum, tinged with a laugh.

My fingers trace her waist, her ribs, the curve of her hips. Every touch sends a jolt through both of us. Her breath catches when my hands skim the edge of her shirt, her nails digging into my shoulders in response.

We’re a tangle of limbs and fabric and desperate, wet kisses through the apartment. Her back hits the bed, and she pulls me down with her, her legs hooking around my hips. I press into her, slow, deliberate, the friction sparking between us.

Her hands are under my shirt now, her palms tracing the planes of my back, clawing down my spine. Every touch ignites something hotter, sharper, until I’m blind with it. I yank her dress off, the fabric ripping in my haste, and she gasps, the sound swallowed by my mouth.

Her skin is hot under my hands, her pulse pounding against my fingertips. I’m on fire, burning through every rule, every protocol, every rational thought. She arches into me, her lips parting on a breathless “Yes,” and I know I’m gone, completely, irrevocably gone.

I feel her hands at my waist, the buttons of my jeans popping open one by one. My cock springs out, and her eyes go wide like she's looking at dessert. The air is thick with tension, the space between us charged. "Vanessa," I start, but she cuts me off with a look, her eyes locked on mine.

"Let me," she says, her voice steady, yet soft. There's a vulnerability there, something beneath the surface that makes me pause, makes me want to understand her better.

I don't say anything else. My fingers tighten in her hair as she lowers her head, her breath warm against my cock. The first touch sends a shiver through me, and I close my eyes, focusing on the sensations she creates.

I can feel her intent in every movement, every pressure. She's not just doing this; she's pouring herself into it, each swipe of her tongue deliberate.

The room is quiet, save for the sounds of our breathing, the faint hum of the city outside. It's intimate, the kind of moment that feels like it could stretch on forever. I'm acutely aware of her, of how this moment connects us beyond words.

I open my eyes, looking down at her, her form illuminated by the city light. She glances up, our eyes meeting, and I see something there, a flicker of emotion that makes my chest tighten.

"Vanessa," I say again, softer this time. She doesn't respond, just keeps her eyes on mine while she bobs her head up and down, her movements steady. I can feel the intensity building, the edge of control slipping.

I want to step back, to slow down, but I can't. Not now. Not with her looking at me like that. I feel myself getting closer, the pressure rising, and I know I should warn her, but the words catch in my throat.

Then it's too late. I mutter a curse, the release hitting me hard, and I'm digging my fingers into her shoulders, holding her steady. She stays with me until the end, her touch gentle, her presence grounding.

When I finally open my eyes, she's sitting back on her heels, her hair a little mussed, her lips swollen. She looks up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. "Alright?" she asks, her voice tinged with amusement.