Page 23 of Handling Skylar (Hope Parish #5)

SKY

Too good, too fast . I thought. Everything was ending up in the crazy as all get out column, getting out of hand, moving at a speed that left me breathless and craving more.

And the things he’d said to me, the dirty talk, his forceful way.

Anna Kate had instinctively known how he would be in bed.

That kinda made me mad, but when I realized that Jake wanted me in this desperate way, it dissipated.

Somehow, kissing had turned into so much more, and it all felt so incredibly right, to let Jake, this man I barely knew take off my clothes and touch me this way, touch me everywhere. It felt like coming home after a long, long absence, and how could that be?

“You are so beautiful, Jake,” I said, and I thought he was the only man who could make me feel this way.

A small laugh escaped him.

He kissed my face one more time and lifted his head. A smile curved his mouth. He was hot and hard against me and he was smiling. That alone was beyond what I had ever hoped for this man. His smile did me in.

“You’re the beautiful, one, Sky, not me.” He leaned down and brushed his lips across my cheek. His hair was so soft, sliding down the length of my neck, across my collarbone, and drifting over my breast. Then his mouth was there, sucking on me.

When he brought his lips back to mine, they were warm.

“So fucking beautiful, taste so good,” he whispered against my mouth. “And tonight, you feel like a gift. It’s my only explanation.”

He didn’t have to explain. I felt the same thing, that he was a gift to me, something to hold on to, something to take inside myself—and I so wanted to take him inside me.

“Kiss me again,” I whispered, pulling his mouth back to mine. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t hesitate, kissing me over and over, teasing me with his fingers, playing with me, until I melted with a soft sigh that seemed to go to his head.

Slipping two fingers inside me, he groaned, “You’re so damn tight.

” He nipped at the underside of my jaw and laved his tongue down my throat.

“If you feel this snug with my fingers, then my cock is in for a real tight fit.”

I gasped against his mouth and he devoured my lips, his thumb working over my core until I was moaning deeply.

“I need more,” he murmured, moving down my body, tightening every nerve he’d just unraveled. But when his mouth closed over me, it was too much, and I rode the pleasure.

He moved back up as he picked me up, my hands clutching at the solidity of his shoulders. Every moment from then on moved at a luxurious pace, my whole world sliding wholeheartedly and without resistance into the sensations of heat, wonder and Jake.

His scratchy cheek, the heavy muscles beneath my hands, his hips, ripped abs, the heaviness and silky heat of his sex drove me wild every time he kissed me—he tasted so male, so good, but even with him taking his time to explore every nuance of my response, I came so quickly again, in a small torrent of cries, more than half of which were his name.

“Jake…Jake—oh my, God, Jake.”

His hands tangled in my hair, tightening just short of pain, my body pulsing with the pleasure he’d given me, his name on my lips, everything about him hard and hot and so ready.

He pressed me back, my leg flush against his chest and shoulder as he pressed into me.

I closed my eyes and when I raised my lashes to look into those silvery blue eyes glazed with passion, a slow grin curved his mouth.

“A sweet angle,” he whispered against my lips, slowly moving in and out of me, loving the mind-bending sensation of having him inside me.

He was so big, so solid—so hot and dangerous.

“So, good,” I said, his hair mussed, only adding to his sexiness.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

“Mm-hmm,” was all I could say.

Still holding my gaze, he pulled partway out and slid up into me again.

This was unexpected, this kind of bone-melting heat.

I kissed him and opened my mouth on his neck, grazing him with my teeth as he thrust into me again.

His skin was salty, damp, the taste of him melting on my tongue.

He rocked into me, over and over, and I tightened my leg around his waist, my hands sliding through his hair, holding him to me…

holding him. A soft gasp escaped from deep in his throat, and the sound sent heat sliding down through me.

When he released my other leg, I locked him in place and between one breath and the next, I slid into a fever dream—so hot, his mouth, wild on mine, his hips pumping toward me, moving with him, taking him to an edge I’d always wanted to take him.

The heat between my legs spread, becoming more intense, pushing him on, into me.

The rhythm was mesmerizing, sweet sex all the way harder and faster, until he arched against me, crying out and everything inside him released, every ounce of him pouring into me, wave after wave of the hottest, sweetest pleasure.

Crimeny. He gave himself up to it completely, the sweat of our bodies, the male scent of him infusing my senses, filling me, dragging me under into him—only him.

***

The room was bathed in a melted red and gold as the sun rose over the bayou. The air coming through the open window was fresh and cool and the scent of wildflowers and my soap mingled in the quiet house. Outside the chorus of bird calls intensified as the day brightened.

I opened my heavy lids to the watery sunlight and…Jake.

Achingly handsome, scary smart, complex, downright dangerous to the senses…Jake Sutton.

Trying to shake off the last dregs of sleep, I stared at his face so close to mine, his body hard and warm snuggled close to me, as if in sleep he needed me against him. His breathing was even and deep, the rise and fall of his chest his only movement.

I absorbed the feel of him and the rhythm of his breathing for a moment in awe that only a couple weeks ago he seemed so far out of my reach.

I could see it when I’d found him last night.

Foundations were broken and it had to do with Chase and his family.

I didn’t know what I could do to help him, but there was no way I was going to let him go through this alone, a fierce protectiveness unfolded in me as he shifted his head.

The sheet slipped off his smooth shoulder, the muscles of his biceps rounded, even in sleep.

The brightening light fell across his neck spilling over his broad chest, suffusing his deeply tanned skin in a luster of bronze.

The strong angle of his jaw was accentuated by a stubble of burnished beard, the skin across his cheekbones drawn smooth.

This man was still golden, but he was no boy.

I lifted his arm and eased away from him. He made a soft, sexy noise and as soon as I moved, rolled over onto his stomach. The faint red tracks on his upper back just behind his shoulder were my passion marks in his skin. Memories swarming in and making me go weak inside.

I walked naked to the bathroom and took a shower, leaving my hair towel dried so I wouldn’t wake Jake with the sound of my blow dryer. In the kitchen I phoned Jordan.

“I’m going to be out for the morning. Can you cover for me?”

“What? Are you sick. I can be there in a flash with some chicken soup before I open the shop.”

“No, I’m not sick.”

“Oh my God. He’s there, right? I want every detail when you get here.”

“Jordan,” I said. “I don’t kiss and tell. It’s complicated.”

“Oh yes you will, you tease and, of course, it’s complicated. It’s Jake Sutton. I’ll see you after lunch. Go ride ‘im, cowgirl.”

I chuckled as I started some coffee brewing, then pulled out the ingredients for my mom’s chocolate-banana pancake casserole.

My go-to comfort food and something my mom made me when I was in turmoil.

For a moment, I braced myself against the counter, grief washing over me, mixing in with my concern for Jake, all of it rolling into one big ball in my chest.

As soon as the thing was in the oven, I went into my pantry to grab some spare syrup when I remembered I’d used up the last of it I’d had in the fridge, consoling myself over…Jake.

When I came back out, Jake was standing at the fridge, drinking straight from a container of juice, the smell of coffee and pancake delight filling the air.

Clutching the syrup, I watched his smooth throat work, the muscles of his back flexing, bare-chested with only those faded jeans he’d had on last night.

I’d thrown them in the washer and drier before I’d gone to bed beside his heavily sleeping body.

Knee-weakeningly aware of his large male form, the top button was undone and his hair was towel-dried and in disarray.

I just wanted to drag him back into my bed.

A husky tone to my voice, I said, “I see you found your clothes. Ah, half of them anyway. Not that I’m complaining.”

He turned slightly and stopped drinking, the carton engulfed in his big hand.

He stared at me for a moment, then shut the door.

He stared at me across the room, the muscles in his jaw tightening, his eyes shadowed with his continuing struggle.

No man drank like that, got that falling down drunk for fun.

Setting the juice on the counter, he moved toward me, gathered me up without a word and pulled me against him.

Unaccountably moved by the hug, even more moved by the protective way he tucked my head against his shoulder, I shut my eyes and struggled against the sudden threat of tears. Crimeny, this man deserved some joy in his life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For standing you up, for acting like a complete asshole and idiot.”

I set the syrup down on the counter and wrapped my other arm around him and murmured, “You’re not an asshole or an idiot, Jake.”