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Chapter Nine

Jace was so hot. Standing at the stove cooking her dinner. And he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Just jeans riding low on his hips, the snug fit hugging his ass like a little denim-wrapped present that was just for her.

Ugh. Wasn’t this supposed to be getting easier? Weren’t things supposed to be less...lusty?

She’d spent the past week in his bed. And on his couch. And in the shower. Once on the floor in the hall.

Yes. It had been a busy week.

And she didn’t feel any closer to getting out of the woods. Worse, she was forgetting why she wanted out.

Things were getting tangled. Jace her friend and Jace her lover weren’t really staying as separate as she would have liked. Because sometimes they were talking and laughing, and she would picture him naked. And then sometimes they were naked and he would say something very Jace and make her laugh.

Muddled. It was muddled.

And her mind was muddled at the moment because of those jeans. Because of the sexy shift and bunch in his muscles as he stirred the pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove.

What she really wanted to do was walk up and kiss his bare shoulder. Trail her fingertip down the curve of his spine. Slide her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans. Squeeze his butt.

But this was the problem with their little arrangement. She felt compelled to find the line during the times they weren’t getting it on. Which meant acting like his friend and not his bed partner when they weren’t hot and heavy.

Which meant no random shoulder kisses or proprietary ass grabs just before dinner.

But she wanted to.

That was sort of disturbing. It was line-muddling. And stuff.

But it might not hurt, either. Especially not if it was considered fore-foreplay. Because they would have sex later, of that she had no doubt. Because if every night over the past week was an indicator, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

She crept up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Hi,” she said. He went stiff beneath her fingertips.

“Hi,” he said.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his skin, just like she’d imagined, before tracing his spine, also like she’d imagined. And then she edged her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans, skimming the top of his butt. She stopped short at squeezing, even though she wanted to.

“How was your day?” she asked, pulling away.

“Good.”

“Did Poppy behave?”

He shrugged a shoulder, the one she’d kissed, and turned to face her. “Yeah, she was fine. She rode in the truck and did my errands with me. Then we did some ranch work. The hands like her a lot. I think she might have gotten a little spoiled with lunch scraps.”

She made a face and looked down at the dog. “Greedy thing. They’re going to make her fat.”

“Her fur will cover it.”

“Ah, yes, black hair is very slimming.”

Their eyes met and he smiled. And her heart did some kind of weird melty thing it had never done before. Ever. In her whole life. It was strange and she didn’t like it at all.

She cleared her throat and turned away. “Can I set the table?”

“Sure,” he said.

She busied herself with the task while he finished cooking and dished their plates.

They ate in relative silence with more small talk about their day passing back and forth.

But mainly her eyes were glued to his chest. Why was he shirtless anyway?

It was snowing outside. It was warm in the house, but she didn’t feel the need to strip off her top.

It seemed like gratuitous male nudity. Which, if it also counted as fore-foreplay, was allowable.

She would just enjoy it then. Let it kindle her flame. Light her fire. Make her go up like a match thrown into a tank of gasoline.

Yeah, more that last one.

Because the man had the most perfect chest ever. And while she’d definitely noticed it before, even before the morning she’d smacked him with pancake batter, she was really, really noticing it now.

Now that she knew just how those muscles felt under her fingertips.

Now that she knew just how sexy he was.

“I’m suddenly hungry for dessert,” she said, realizing she’d gone a little Marilyn Monroe.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I am. And if you have to ask, I’m not doing a very good job.”

He smiled and her heart did that thing again.

Then he stood from his spot at the table and crossed to where she was sitting, kneeling in front of her and taking both her hands in his, his eyes intent on hers.

“You have been seducing me since the moment I first met you. Pick-up lines appreciated but not required.”

“I...” She blinked, trying to soothe suddenly stinging eyes. “How do you do that?”

“How do I do what?”

“How do you make me feel like I’m the only woman in the world?”

“Because you’re the only one that matters.”

She breathed out hard, fighting against the intense emotion rising in her chest. She didn’t want to cry. There was no reason to cry. Jace was her friend so he was saying nice things. He was her lover so they were extra mushy.

That was all.

Nothing deeper.

“We should do dishes,” she said. “I mean, before dessert.”

He reached up and brushed his thumb over the corner of her mouth before straightening. “You really do know how to talk dirty to me. By talking clean.”

“I know my audience,” she said. “Most guys aren’t so excited about putting their hands in warm soapy water.”

“If you were in it, any guy would be.”

“Oh...” Her cheeks heated. “Well, you...you…”

“Yeah. And you. ”

He was being gooey. And looking at her funny.

“You know,” she said, “I’m easy where you’re concerned. You don’t have to try this hard.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Okay.”

She started running hot water out of the tap, scrubbing at the bowl idly with her thumb before realizing what she was doing. And then she realized he wasn’t yelling at her. And that was weird.

“I’m washing the bowl with my thumb,” she said, studying his face closely. “My thumb, Jace. I petted Poppy with these hands earlier. I grabbed your ass. This thumb was involved in said ass-grabbing.”

He shrugged and smiled. “It’s going to go in the dishwasher.”

She squinted at him. “Are you high?”

“Never once in my life.”

“No. You’re too much of a control freak. Which is why I am suspicious of you now.”

“I’m fine. I’m...” He looked down at her hand. “You did stick your hand down my pants.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you could use a cloth?”

She smiled and grabbed a clean dish towel from the counter. “Yeah, I could do that.” There. That was more normal. Nitpicky Jace, who was freaky about his dishes, was strange but normal in his way.

“So what’s with the trying to be relaxed about me manhandling your stuff?” she asked.

“I’m making an effort to be flexible.”

“That’s weird, man. I’m not gonna lie.”

“You’re staying here. And I shouldn’t make you feel like an imposition. ”

“Huh. Well. For the record, you don’t make me feel like an imposition, but thank you.”

“But you wouldn’t feel comfortable if you were staying here permanently.”

Something strange and heavy settled in her chest. “No. But I’m not.”

“No,” he said. “But...if you were, I couldn’t be tyrannical about everything.”

“But I’m not,” she said, feeling the need to affirm it.

“No,” he said again.

She set the bowl down in the sink. “Stop thinking so much,” she said, touching his cheek. “I can think of something that doesn’t require thinking at all.”

“Really?” The light in his eyes changed. It had been soft, almost sweet a moment ago. Not now. Now it was sharp. Predatory.

“Yes, really.”

She reached between them and grabbed his belt, tugging him forward.

She ran her hands over his chest, confidence filling her.

Because Jace was the most enthusiastic lover she’d ever had.

Because he made her feel confident. Beautiful.

More aggressive. And safe. Even when he took her to the edge, Jace made her feel safe.

She skimmed her fingers over his abs and nearly whimpered. He was so freaking hot.

With one hand, she worked at his belt buckle, the other enjoying all of his amazing muscles. Then she got frustrated with her one-handed technique and attacked the belt with both hands, pushing his pants and underwear down to the floor, dropping to her knees in front of him.

They hadn’t done this yet. She hadn’t. Because.

..stupidly maybe, it seemed so intimate.

And now she wanted to taste him so bad she was shaking with the need for it.

To bring it back down to sex—that was why.

To stop him from saying all these sweet things.

To stop him from talking about her living here full-time, like that could ever happen.

She cupped him, sliding her palm up and over his shaft, squeezing him gently before leaning in and tracing the head of his cock with her tongue. He sifted his fingers through her hair, tugging hard when she took him into her mouth.

A harsh curse escaped his lips, and he tugged harder as she moved her hand in time with her lips and tongue. And she liked it. This was raw. This was sex. This was something she could understand.

It was Jace, her lover. The man who made her feel like she could do anything to his body and he would like it. The man who whispered dirty promises in her ear at night.

Not the man she ate cupcakes with. Not the man who hated dog hair and kept a small vacuum in his pickup truck to take care of dirt.

This was the easiest way to put a sharp divide between those two men, and she needed the divide. Without it, things were too dangerous. Without it, Jace was everything.

She pushed that terrifying thought away and focused on pleasuring him. On how hot and hard he was, on how perfect. On how this had never, ever been an arousing act to her before, but had her on the brink now.

“Enough,” he growled, tugging lightly on her hair. She followed the motion, rising to her feet, breathing hard, her entire body shaking. “I need you,” he said, his voice rough.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and gripped her thigh with his other hand, lifting her and setting her on the counter with one smooth motion. He pushed her skirt up to her hips, his hands rough as he pulled her wool tights and then her panties down her legs.

He held her open to him, thrusting hard inside of her, kissing her deep, in time with his thrusts. His desperation fed hers, her heart hammering so hard she thought it would eventually come to a dead stop, too exhausted to beat once more.

He pulled away from her, then entered her again, slowly this time, his eyes on hers, intense, dark, predatory, but for some reason, the line between Jace, her friend, and Jace, her lover, blurred. And they became one man.

He became everything.

A choked sob rose in her throat and she wanted to close her eyes. To bury her face in his neck like she’d done the first time. To hide from what they were doing. From what she was feeling.

But along with the pressure, the emotion building in her chest was the climax building deep inside of her, tension that was winding tighter and tighter.

A sob broke through her lips, and still she looked at him, at his eyes.

And she saw the emotion there. Flecks of light breaking through that dark gleam.

Something that went beyond sex. Something that pulled hard at her heart, at all of the feelings swirling inside of her. That forced the desire, the building climax and all of the emotion into one massive knot that made it impossible to breathe.

Panic assaulted her, and she tried to fight it. Tried to fight everything. The feelings. The desire. But it was too late. She was too far gone.

“Oh, Sam,” Jace said, his voice rough, broken as he thrust, harder and faster. And his voice, her name on his lips, his heat and hardness around her, in her, pushed her over the edge.

Everything shattered around her, shards digging inside, splintering the knot that had built into tiny glass slivers that burned through her, stuck into every part of her.

Pain and pleasure in equal parts. A tear slipped down her cheek as the wave of her release washed through her, soothing the burn left behind by the emotion.

But only for a moment. The wave was salt on a wound, leaving her feeling raw, in pain, in the aftermath of the most incredible, devastating release of her life.

Jace lowered his head, kissing her, desperate, intense. It wasn’t sexual, it was something more. A bid for connection, for an even deeper closeness. When they parted he kissed her forehead, her cheek. “I love you,” he said, his voice broken. “Samantha, I love you.”