I would have taken it as a compliment if he didn’t seem so pissed about it.
Okay, maybe I took it as a compliment either way.
“That’s funny,” I said. “Then what the hell took you so long?”
I curled my fingers over his shoulders, and his hands slid down my body. His thumbs pressed into my hipbones hard, his fingers splaying over the curve of my ass. And the only answer I got to my question was him tugging my hips forward to meet his. His strength undid me, sending every nerve ending up in flames.
His arousal pressed against my stomach through his jeans, and I sucked in a breath. He took advantage of my open mouth, his tongue winding and flicking against mine.
His hands explored my body, bold and strong like his kiss. My heart felt like a bird loosed from a cage, like it couldn’t stay perched in one spot in my chest.
He slid a hand up my back, unsnapping the clasp of my bra with ease. He broke our kiss just long enough to pull the fabric from between us, before crushing me against him again. I heard the wet slap of my bra hit the tile floor.
When my bare chest met his, a growl sounded low in his throat. His mouth pressed and pulled and coaxed mine into movement, and time seemed both too fast and too slow at once.
When my lungs burned for air, I pulled back, panting.
I said, “You’re the most confusing person I’ve ever met, and sometimes I hate you.”
Not the most romantic thing to say, but it was honest.
He pinned me back against the wall again, and this time gripped my wrists, locking them in place above me, too.
He growled, “This counts,” before nipping my bottom lip.
I didn’t know what he was saying, but I nodded because his leg pushed between mine, anchored at the juncture between my thighs, and every shift or movement caused something to rend and then mend inside me.
“Say it.”
I arched my body into his, pulling at his shoulders.
“Say what?”
“Say that this is real. Tell me it counts.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, and that thing that tore inside of me was so loud that it had to be real. Something hung in the space between my heart and lungs, detached from where it had been.
“This is real.” I shivered, suddenly cold under the spray of water.
He released my wrists and turned off the shower, pulling me out into the bedroom. Water streamed down our bodies, forming a puddle on the floor, but he didn’t even give it a second glance. He wrapped an arm around my waist and the other around my thighs, lifting me up above him. His head was in line with my stomach. He paused to taste the wet skin just below my breasts, and I closed my eyes. I clenched his shoulders, every muscle in my body pulling tight as his tongue darted out to flick over the sensitive skin of my ribs.
I said, “Jackson.”
I didn’t know what I was going to say next. It could have been more angry words or confusion or a romantic declaration. But I forgot it completely when he lifted his head higher, and took the pebbled tip of my breast into his mouth. I cried out.
Slowly, he loosened his grip, letting me slide down his body the way I had out on the path. But now, our wet skin melded together. My softness pressed against his hard muscle, and all I could think of were four-letter words.
When our faces aligned, he said, “This is what I should have done out there. This is what I’ve wanted to do a thousand times over.”
He claimed my mouth in another kiss.
I opened to him immediately, his tongue tangling with mine. He tasted like warm summer days and hurricanes, like everything I wanted and everything I didn’t know I needed. He caught my bottom lip between his, sucking and nibbling, and I was reminded of the first time I saw him. That terrible kiss in the ruin bar brought Hunt into my life. I never thought I would be grateful for the worst kiss of my life, especially not while enjoying the best.
He kept one arm banded around my ribs to hold me up, and the other dragged down my back to my ass. He cupped me, grinding me against his hips, and I wrapped my legs around his waist for better friction. But then I wished I hadn’t because my legs met his wet jeans, which I wanted off. Like ten minutes ago.
My fingers found the waistband of his jeans. I was pressed too tightly against him to manage the buttons, and I whined into his kiss.
I tugged on his jeans, and felt him begin moving toward the bed.
He dropped me on my back without warning, and I bounced against the mattress.
Shocked, I yelled, “You—”
I swallowed whatever insult had been coming when he flicked open the button of his jeans and slid them down over his naked hips.
When I managed to pick up my jaw, I followed his lead, slipping my underwear over my hips. I kicked them off, leaving us both bare before the other’s gaze. We were getting the sheets wet, but who the hell cared? For several long seconds, we both just stared at each other, drinking in the sight that for so long we’d denied ourselves.
Hunt smiled darkly and said, “My imagination didn’t do you justice.”
“Imagine me naked a lot, did you?”
“Only every other second.”
I smiled and the last of my frustration fled to be replaced by anticipation.
I sat up so that my face was level with his abdomen.
He ran a gentle hand through my hair. I turned into his touch and kissed his wrist. Then I leaned forward and licked a stray water droplet from his bare hip.
His hand tightened in my hair, and he exhaled sharply.
I circled my hand around him, and he choked out a groan. He stayed still for a few seconds, his eyes directed toward the ceiling.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked. “If you thought about me so much, if you wanted me … why push me away?”
He pulled my hand away from his body, kissing the back of my knuckles instead.
“I couldn’t do this lightly. Not with you. I needed it to mean as much to you as it meant to me.”
He leaned down and kissed me sweetly on the lips. So sweet it burned, like sugar around the rim of a Molotov cocktail.
Gripping my hips, he slid me back farther on the bed, until just my feet were dangling off the edge. I sat up on my elbows and watched him as his eyes surveyed me from head to toe.
He picked up my right foot, and placed a tender kiss on the inside of my ankle. That kiss started a fire deep in my bones that ran through the rest of me like a lit fuse. As he kissed my calf and the inside of my knee, my bones melted down to liquid. His hands started at my heels and ran up the backs of my legs, tickling the sensitive skin. I squirmed, pulling my knees together, and he placed a hand low on my abdomen stilling me.
“Patience, princess.”
I had no patience left. Especially not if he was going to do the same thing he did every other time and pull back when he came to his senses.
I said, “You’re not going to change your mind, are you, Jackson? Because I can’t keep doing this.”
He said, “I hope you can keep doing this. Because I don’t plan on letting you out of this room until my seven days are up.”