A few pages past rational, Ike got right up in her face. “What’s my problem? Really?”
“Yeah. Really,” she said, tossing her cue on the felt.
Ike backed her up against the pool table. “You wanna fuck that guy?” he bit out, knowing he was being an asshole but unable to keep all the noise inside him buttoned up tight.
“Are you shitting me right now?” she said, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed.
“No, I’m fucking serious. You’ve been flirting with the pair of them all night. Shaking your ass in their face, hanging on them, getting fucking drunk.”
Fury blazed from Jess’s eyes. “First of all, I haven’t done a damn thing wrong. Second of all, I’m an adult and you don’t get a fucking say in who I do anything with. And third of all,” she said, planting her hands against his chest and shoving him, her volume escalating. “You made it crystal freaking clear we’re not together and never will be, so why does it matter to you who I wanna fuck anyway?”
Everything she said was true, but the shit storm in his head wouldn’t relent. He got right back up in her face. “Because…I…” He shook his head.
“What?” she shouted.
“I… Fuck.” He dove at her. Clasped her face in his hands and devoured her mouth with every bit of denied desire he had inside him. He was rock hard and aching and out of his mind.
Together, they were an angry, roiling flash fire. Jess clawed his neck, bit his lip, and sucked on his tongue until he saw stars. Ike gripped her hard—squeezing her breasts, clutching her ass, pulling her hair.
He tore her jeans open and forced them down around her thighs, and then he kicked her feet apart and sank a finger deep into her *. “Tell me you’re so wet for me,” he growled, finger fucking her fast.
“You’re an asshole,” she rasped, her hips moving with his hand.
“Yeah,” he said, claiming her mouth again. Jesus, he had to get in her. It was the only place he felt like he wasn’t starved of air and solace and life.
Ike spun her around, bent her over the pool table, and freed his cock from his jeans. A twinge of something shot through him—guilt? Uncertainty? Concern, for her?
“Jesus, Ike, are you going to fuck me or not?” she asked, anger clear in her voice.
He pushed his cock into her until he was balls deep.
On a groan, he fucked her hard, fingers digging into her hips. Jess was screaming and cursing and moaning loudly—and Ike hoped Blake heard every fucking sound.
She. Is. Mine.
The thought had his hips snapping faster as his cock worked that * so damn good. Planting a hand on the felt, he hunched himself around her, bearing down on her, going deeper. The tenor of Jess’s moans became more desperate, more urgent.
“Come all over my cock, Jessica. Fucking come for me.”
Her orgasm was goddamned glorious. Her * fisted him again and again and again and her come coated his cock and ran down his balls. And then he was right there with her, shoving into her deep, but not deep enough. Never deep enough. He came so long and so hard that he got light-headed.
For a long moment, their harsh breathing was the only sound in the room.
Jess pushed herself into a standing position and pulled free of him. Without looking at him, she drew up and fastened her jeans.
Eyes glued to her, Ike did the same. Dread snaked into his gut.
“Can you show me where I’m sleeping?” she asked, that careful neutral back on her now-flushed face.
Ike fucking hated it, but he nodded. He grabbed their bags from where he’d dropped them in the front lounge and guided her upstairs. Theirs were the first two rooms on the second floor. “You’re here,” he said, pointing at the first door. “And I’m there.” He indicated the next room over.
“Okay.” She reached for her bag, and Ike handed it to her.
“Jess—”
“What happened tonight,” she said, turning the knob and cracking the door open a little. “You should know, it didn’t mean anything to me. And it won’t be happening again. But thanks for scratching my itch.”
With that, she disappeared inside the room and closed the door in his face. A click told him she’d engaged the lock.
Ike was so fucking hosed.
Chapter 12
Ike had been lying in bed for hours and hadn’t once drifted off to sleep. His brain was so full of churn and burn that it wouldn’t shut the fuck off and give him even a minute of reprieve—from the guilt, from the grief, from the soul-deep knowledge that he’d been kidding himself where Jessica Jakes was concerned.
Not just since he’d slept with her. And not just this week that he’d been alone with her. But pretty much for as long as he’d known her.