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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

AMELIA

I’m all but bouncing in my heels, buzzing with delight as I whip out my phone to capture shots of the building before whirling around to face Jake, unable to contain my grin. “Can you believe Joni Mitchell and James Taylor played here?”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but the boyish gleam of satisfaction has my heart somersaulting in place.

“Rumor has it that he bombed.” It’s a factoid I’m already aware of. I really could kiss him for bringing me here. Which wouldn’t be the thing to do. So, I take a deep breath and shift my attention to the board with tonight’s lineup. I don’t recognize either of the bands, but I take photos of the list, anyway.

“Wait! We need to remember this.” Jake grabs his own phone and catches me around my waist in one smooth movement, making me gasp. He draws me close with a hand while he takes a selfie of us with another. Not that there’s any chance I’ll forget tonight. No way.

He is solid against me, his scent a tantalizing mix of aftershave and crisp evening air. It’s hard not to notice how perfectly I fit under his muscled arm.

Then, he turns and faces me fully. And everything becomes a blur but his features, sharp and clear in the moment, and my heart bangs around in the cage of my ribs at the heated glint in his eyes.

The bouncer calling out that the next act’s about to start interrupts improper visions of tasting his lips.

“We should go inside,” I say, pulling away before I do something I shouldn’t.

I’m enveloped in a pulsing beat as soon as we enter. The dim pinkish hue that bathes the brick interior of the small space lends it a surreal glow.

Surreal. The very definition of the day, from this morning’s phone call to my presence now at a place I’d only ever dreamed of visiting.

The room is packed, but Jake’s warmth radiates against my spine. “Drink?” His voice is a murmur against my ear. The low rumble tickles against my skin and flares along my thighs. His hand finds my back, the spot between my shoulder blades. Also happens to be an erogenous zone of mine. I almost squeeze them together. For good posture. And if I can keep him imprisoned between my bones, well…that’s an added advantage, no?

I swallow and nod.

We head to the long wooden bar across the stage, its mirrored backdrop covered in a chaotic collage of cartoons, photos, and posters of past performances.

At the counter, Jake cages me in from behind. His breath teases the nape of my neck. Those shoulder blades of mine keep brushing against his chest, every touch a tease. I time our exhales to align, bringing us into closer contact. Around us, people revel, and I want to sink into the energy of it all, dance in the madness, sing as if no one’s judging, memorize each minute detail.

We order a couple of beers, and when the bartender returns with the bottles, Jake pays and takes them by their necks with one hand while the other wraps around mine, that slight physical contact sending sparks dancing along my skin. He guides us through the jam-packed room to a spot against the back wall with a prime view, right as the band kicks off another rock tune, a cover of “Welcome to the Jungle.” Apt.

We clink our drinks together. I sip my beer, the tangy bitterness trickling down my throat but doing nothing to temper the heated rush surging within me because the room’s temperature isn’t the culprit here. Even in the darkness, I doubt I can casually press the bottle against my neck. Everything’s too hot, too tight.

I slip off my jacket and knot the sleeves around my hips, then lean against the wall. The rough wooden texture digging into my back is a cheap attempt to ground me as I try to lose myself to the music.

Usually, it’s enough to drown everything else out, but tonight it does little to detract from the man to my left. I’m ridiculously cognizant of how close we are. Our knuckles brush. It’s the barest of touches but still makes my every muscle tense. Agitation builds in my bloodstream. The thumping in my ears isn’t from the bass, coming from within my ribs instead. Biting my lip, I force my gaze back to the stage.

When the band starts playing “Man in the Box,” I can’t help but chuckle.

Jake leans over, brows creasing. “Who sings this?”

“Alice in Chains.” I grin.

“Huh.”

I give him a cheeky side eye. “I’m surprised you don’t know it, chains being your thing and all that.”

His laugh rings out, and I turn to face his grinning silhouette. His teeth flash, and his eyes gleam a brilliant green as they lock with mine. A shadow of stubble has my fingers tingling, as if they want to trace his jaw and feel the roughness. As he holds my gaze, his smile slowly fades, replaced by a charged air thick with sultry anticipation.

Jake is usually all motion and energy, so this rare stillness is shockingly intimate. But he doesn’t make a move, instead returning my stare, watching, wanting, waiting.

The moment extends into eternity, yet threatens to vanish in an instant. How is he even here? This deliberate choice of his to seek me out is both disconcerting and novel, leaving me in an effervescent bubble.

We were strangers two days ago, and we’ll be colleagues in two from now. But right here is a sliver of time out of the ordinary, screaming with opportunity I’d be a fool to let slip by. A chance too tempting to ignore, daring me to grab on tight before it slips through my fingers.

Desire overwhelms me, and in the name of brave and brazen, I cast caution aside. My hand hooks around his neck, and I rise on my toes, silently offering him every chance to stop me. He doesn’t. He remains still, like a statue, waiting. My lips find his in a slow caress, a whisper of warm velvet. The touch is feather light, testing the waters. I feel the faintest twitch, as if he’s restraining himself. I do it again. The need for him to kiss me back is so intense it hurts.

“Jake.” My voice is breathy, almost lost in the music, yet his eyes flare—he knows exactly what I want.

His hands cup my face, and his mouth slants against mine, greedy and impatient as he takes over. My lips part, welcoming him, and the kiss morphs from a gentle tease into a ravenous, frantic collision. There’s nothing tentative about how he devours me. He kisses as if he wants to do filthy things to me. Hot and sweaty and deep and messy things.

Over and over, he tastes me. Every touch of his lips, every slip and slide of his tongue is a jolting, scorching, searing shock, and I’m dying for more. Because I’ve never been kissed like this. Never before have I experienced this kind of raw yearning, and I can’t seem to care if anyone’s watching.

I sink deeper into the kiss, desire growing with every second. Needing more and more as I dissolve into a molten mess. My fingers weave through his hair, and his hands glide down my back, dragging me close. We both groan when my aching breasts press against his firm chest.

Time becomes meaningless as we stand there, fused together, like teenagers making out in the dark. Long enough that vision blurs, long enough that my jaw aches and my lips swell. Long enough that my body is one big ball of want. So, when Jake finally pulls away, I whimper. He isn’t far, but even that slight distance is too much. In the background, the rhythm of the music pounds with possibility.

I don’t think. I act. Grabbing his hand, I tug him toward the loo I’d spotted earlier, urgency propelling me before sanity steps back in.

I gesture for him to go in first, then follow, shutting the door behind me and locking it with a decisive click. Jake’s brows rise, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. The tension between us thickens, and I’m ridiculously aware of my damp knickers.

The single stall is tiny, cramped. Smaller than this activity calls for. My mind flits to the rather significant length pressed against me moments ago, and a shiver of doubt creeps in. Am I smaller than the operation requires?

A new nervousness sets in. Cavity Activity Anxiety? If that’s not a thing, it should be.It’s surprisingly quiet in here, just a muted throbbing outside. In here, my breathing seems to have amplified in volume. Or is that simple hyperventilation?

Thoughts I’d pushed aside come roaring back to the forefront. Dirty thoughts of getting Jake naked mix in with the usual grossness I feel whenever I see the “Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work” sign above the mirror, because really? Do they need to be reminded to do that?

“Amelia…” Jake’s low, rough voice pulls me from my musings.

I stare at him, trying to comprehend how we got here. I bite my lip, and his gaze goes hot. A wave of heat moves up my neck and chest and I swallow.

As if he senses my hesitation, Jake cups my cheek, his calloused fingers sending a tremor down my spine. His thumb finds my lower lip, tugging it down. My mouth opens, and without a second thought, I suck it in. He groans, and the guttural sound sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

His thigh comes between my legs, and I grind against it, desperate for friction. My arms loop around him, pulling him closer, pressing against the hardness beneath his jeans. Craving more, I rock my hips against him. He lets out a low, deep growl that reverberates through me, sending a sharp thrill through me.

Jake’s hands find my arse, and he hoists me up effortlessly. My legs hook over his hips, and the hem of my skirt rides up, bunching high on my thighs. I can feel every fingertip through the material, and it’s driving me wild.

With a swift motion, he uses one hand to wrench down my tank top, leaving my bra and knickers in place. I’m exposed, vulnerable, and I’ve never felt more alive.

Jake’s mouth descends to my breast, capturing my nipple through the thin fabric. He sucks hard, and I cry out, arching into him. He finds the other peak, and pinches it between his fingers. I’m panting, grinding myself against his cock.

He lifts me higher, pinning me against the door, and in one quick movement, he rips my knickers off. The tearing sound makes me gasp, the roughness of his actions only turning me on more. He skims down past my belly to brush against my slickness, and I whimper, bucking against him.

Jake growls low in his throat, and his finger pushes inside, curling just right. My body reacts instantly, back arching as pleasure ripples through me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

Somehow, he gets his jeans undone, and then I hear the crinkle of foil. The anticipation is electric, every second stretching out as he rolls the condom on.

He presses his forehead against mine, and our heaving breaths mingle. I’m completely out of control, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. He pulls back slightly, just enough for our eyes to lock, the intensity undeniable, but an unspoken question lingers, too.

I nod, giving him the answer he needs.

That’s all it takes. With one swift thrust, he’s inside me. I gasp, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness, thick, hard, and perfect.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his voice strained like he’s barely holding it together. “You feel so fucking good. So tight, baby.”

A shiver races through me at his words, setting me alight. My walls clench around him instinctively, and he groans, the sound vibrating through me, making my pulse quicken.

He starts to move, his thrusts deep and steady, his hips grinding into me. I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I catch his rhythm.

“Yeah, just like that,” he growls, thick with lust, and he goes harder. The sensation of him filling me over and over is overwhelming, and every stroke drives me closer to the edge.

“Your pussy is incredible wrapped around me.” Every dirty word he murmurs makes me even wetter, my body responding to the sound of his rough need.

I want to respond, tell him how splendid he feels, but I’m unable to form coherent words. All I can do is moan as I arch into him.

He thrusts in deeper this time, as if he’s hardly hanging on. His thumb reaches between us, finding my clit with practiced precision. He rubs slow, firm circles that make my hips buck. I’m so close, the pressure building with each thrust, and he knows it. His pace quickens, hitting that sweet spot over and over.

Pleasure consumes me, and with a cry, my orgasm crashes over me like a thunderstorm, my entire being trembling as I come undone.

Jake groans, his own release following mine, his body tensing before melting against me. His breath comes in uneven gasps against my throat, our bodies locked together. Gradually, our pulses slow as the intensity fades into a lazy calm.

I tilt my head up, locking eyes with him. “That…I was…” I trail off, not sure how to describe what just happened.

“Fucking perfect,” Jake finishes for me, a smirk playing on his lips.

I return his grin as the energy between us reignites. There’s no doubt in my mind—we’re far from finished.