Page 32 of This Time Around (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #3)

Jack got to work ridding her of the extra layers. Fleece, tank top, yoga pants—all of it ended up in a heap at the foot of the bed.

When he reached for her again, there was nothing between them but heated skin.

He skimmed a hand down her body, starting at her breasts and trailing over her belly, over her hip, between her thighs.

She moved one arm down to cover her stomach, and he watched her start to arrange herself into her vision of a flattering pose.

“No,” he said, gently drawing the arm back. He placed a trail of kisses where it had been, worshiping every inch of her. “You’re so beautiful, Allie. I love your body.”

She laughed, and he wasn’t sure if she believed him or thought he was feeding her a line.

It was true, though, dammit, and he wanted her to know.

“So perfect.” He planted another row of kisses down her center, skimming over her right hip and then back to her belly button.

He only meant to tease, knowing she needed more foreplay than he’d offered her so far.

But Allie grabbed his wrist and pressed his fingers into the warmth between her legs.

“Touch me,” she whispered, her voice cracking with intensity.

“Jesus, you’re wet.”

“I want you,” she panted. “Right now. So much , Jack.”

Had she been this assertive in college? Jack didn’t think so. He knew he’d been her first, and she’d always seemed a little shy. Even after they’d been together for years, she was rarely the one to initiate things in the bedroom.

But she was initiating now, and it made Jack dizzy with need.

He slid a finger inside her, marveling as she arched up off the bed.

He stroked deep inside her, pressing the heel of his hand against her pubic bone and trying not to let the word pubic throw him off his stride with thoughts of his inquisitive kid asking about pubes.

“Jack, please.”

He smiled down at her, knowing damn well what she wanted, but needing to hear those words. “Please what?”

“Please,” she gasped again, closing her eyes as he angled his finger to hit something that sent her arching off the bed.

Allie wasn’t the only one who’d gained experience the last sixteen years.

“I want you inside me,” she pleaded.

That was enough for him. He started to move on top of her, nudging her thighs apart with his own. He hesitated.

“Uh, Allie?”

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom. I wasn’t exactly planning for this.”

She grinned and pushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “Nightstand,” she said. “Hurry.”

God bless the girl. He hurried to tear open the packaging and sheathe himself, pretty sure he’d never been this eager to be inside a woman, not even her. “Please tell me you stashed this in there and I didn’t just grab a rubber that belonged to your grandma.”

She laughed and pulled him on top of her. “It’s mine.”

There was an echo of something in that word. Mine . He remembered whispering it to her in the darkness, driving himself inside her. You’re mine. Always. Mine. She’d murmured it back, binding them together with youthful oblivion and na?ve lust.

There was none of that now. They both knew what they were getting into, and they wanted it anyway. As Jack slid inside her, he felt something shatter in the back of his brain. He stilled for an instant, wanting to savor the moment, to get himself under control.

Allie drew her legs up, heels pressing into the mattress, as she arched up to meet him. “Please, Jack. Fuck me.”

Oh my God. Was this really Allison Ross?

He opened his eyes, just to be sure, and saw her smiling up at him. “I’ve never wanted anyone so badly,” she murmured.

“God, you’re killing me.”

He began to move then, slow strokes at first. He’d been cocky at the start, eager to prove he had better stamina than his eighteen-year-old self. But he may have overestimated his own skill, or maybe he’d underestimated Allie.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into her hair, driving into her harder.

“So do you.”

He slid deeper inside her, losing his grip on reality as he lost himself in the sensation. There was a loud hum vibrating his eardrums, and he was pretty sure he’d have to stop soon or change positions or think about operating systems or UX testing or the World Series or?—

“Jack, I’m close.”

He knew that plea. Had it ever happened this quickly before? He didn’t think so, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. He drove into her again, teetering on his own brink.

“That’s it, Allie,” he whispered, kissing her ear. “Come with me.”

He’d never said something like that before, not to her anyway. But the words seemed to spark something inside her. She cried out, arching tight against him.

It was Jack’s cue to let go, and he did, letting the first wave of pleasure grab hold and pull him under. He drove into her again and again, not sure whose shudders he was feeling and wondering when they’d melded together into one sensation.

When the last wave subsided, he felt her go still. He rolled to his side, pulling her with him. She smiled and came willingly, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.

“Well,” she said softly. “You’ve developed some skill in sixteen years.”

He laughed and drew her closer. “You, too.”

“Gotta admit, I thought we had a pretty decent sex life back then. But that was—holy shit.”

He laughed and planted a kiss on the edge of her temple. “I think I’ve heard you swear more in the last fifteen minutes than I have in my whole life.”

“What do you expect when you fuck me like that?”

“Good Lord.” He chuckled at her filthy mouth. “Why is that such a turn-on?”

“If I knew it would be, I would have cursed at you years ago.”

He smiled and stroked his fingers through her hair. His heartbeat was slowing back down, with a few brain cells beginning to buzz back to life. He lay quietly for a moment, not sure what to say next. What did this mean? Was she expecting something now, or had this just been for fun?

At that moment, she angled up to look at him, and her smile sent tiny daggers of warmth right into his core. He leaned down and kissed her, thinking maybe he didn’t have to figure it out now.

Allie was alone when the woodpeckers woke her around eight the next morning, their beaks battering the cedar outside her window like miniature jackhammers.

“For the love of all things holy,” she muttered, pulling a pillow over her ears.

She lay that way for a long time, savoring the fuzzy memory of Jack kissing her sometime after midnight before crawling out of bed and dressing silently in the darkness.

“Sorry to be that guy,” he’d murmured against her hair when he’d kissed her again. “I need to be there when Paige wakes up.”

“Mmhm,” Allie had mumbled without opening her eyes, drowsy with post-sex glow in her bliss nest of feather duvets and Egyptian cotton sheets.

Warmed by the memory, Allie pulled the pillow off her head and turned to snuggle the one Jack had used. It smelled like him, all woodsy and earthy, and the memory of last night made her smile.

That had been ... different.

And the same, in some ways. In sixteen years, she’d never once allowed herself to conjure memories of what Jack was like in bed or how his sexual prowess might’ve changed over the years.

Sure, there were occasional flickers of memory the first time she’d gone to bed with someone else.

The feel of different thumbprints on her flesh, or a hitch in breathing that tickled her eardrums with familiarity.

But it’s not like she’d had many lovers over the years, and she’d gotten engaged to most of them.

Remembering the flash of jealousy in Jack’s eyes, she hugged the pillow tighter.

Okay, so he hadn’t been thrilled to hear about her serial engagements.

It’s not something she felt proud of. Not something most people knew.

The idea of getting married had always been appealing to her, ever since she was a little girl sitting in the parlor of the B&B holding a silver-framed photo of her parents’ wedding.

“That was such a perfect day,” her grandma used to tell her, beaming down at the photo. “Your mother looked like an absolute princess, and your dad was so handsome.”

Something about that fairy tale had always tugged Allie’s heartstrings.

She’d wanted that for herself, even after visions of Snow White and Cinderella had been replaced by thoughts of Vera Wang and Dom Pérignon.

The look on her parents’ faces in that photo had driven her to want what they had, at any cost.

Then again, her parents’ union had turned out to be a criminal partnership as much as a blissful romance. Maybe that wasn’t the best example.

Allie rolled over again, heaving herself out of bed this time.

She thought about showering, but a tiny, silly part of her wanted to savor the scent of Jack on her skin for a little while longer.

She tugged on her yoga pants and tank top again, shivering a little at the memory of him stripping them off her body.

She skipped the bra this time, feeling deliciously vulnerable and powerful all at once.

Padding barefoot into the parlor, she spotted the empty wineglasses and a few scattered crackers that looked like they may have been gnawed on by feline teeth.

She scooped everything up and carried the whole mess toward the kitchen, pausing as she caught sight of her reflection in the hall mirror.

She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly ravished.

Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a snarled mess, but instead of looking slovenly, it looked like a style she might’ve seen in a lingerie catalogue.

Allie smiled and continued on, rounding the corner into the kitchen.

“Hey there!”

Allie jumped, her grip on one of the wineglasses loosening. Skye reached out and caught it easily, setting in on the counter with a grin before diving back into her cereal bowl.

“Nice reflexes,” Allie said as she set down the cheese plate and the other wineglass.