“You’re right,” I concede. “I must have been referring to the movie about that girl who thought she loved a guy. But it turned out she actually didn’t. It was all just a big mistake.”
“Oh … What’s that one called?”
My lips press flat as I stare at Jake. “The Betrayal.”
Henry’s forehead wrinkles. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”
“Probably because it’s shit,” I tell him.
Jake shrugs. “I heard they planned a sequel so it can’t have been all that bad.”
“A sequel?” I snort. “Titled what?”
“I Screwed Up and I’m Sorry.”
“That kinda sounds like a long title,” Henry interjects.
We both ignore him. My silent glare is too busy telling Jake he can stick his title where the sun doesn’t shine. “It also sounds a little too late,” I add to Henry. “I mean, what’s the second movie about anyway? How she forgives him? Because that would never happen.”
“Forgives him for what?” Henry asks, trying desperately to keep up with our conversation.
“For fucking up the best thing he ever had,” Jake replies as he looks at me.
My palms sweat as I cling to my wavering resolve. I take a fortifying sip of wine and pray the glass doesn’t slip from my fingers.
“Christ. That sounds like a chick flick. No thanks.” Henry guzzles the last of his beer and waves the empty bottle at us. “Time for another. You both good?”
“We’re good,” Jake answers, “but I think Mac needs some fresh air.”
My bicep is grabbed and I’m marched toward the apartment door. Unfortunately, I’m drunk; the room spins and escape proves elusive. “You’ve decided I need fresh air? Funny, but that doesn’t sound like a man on the road to his redemption. It sounds to me like he hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Jake growls. “The pretence of fresh air is so I can get you alone. We need to talk.”
“And what if I don’t want to talk?”
His eyes heat in an instant. My antagonistic words roll right off his back. “Then I’m sure we can find something else to do.”
My body is on board with that plan. I don’t have to forgive him to sleep with him. In fact, I don’t have to like him at all. My gaze runs the length of his back, following the bunch and flex of muscle moving beneath his shirt.
Would sleeping with Jake be such a bad idea?
Yes! my inner voice shouts with force. A monumentally bad idea.
Why? I argue as my gaze drops lower. His waist is trim, his ass round and firm. Jesus. I know he works out. I see him come and go from the university gym every day. It makes eyeballing his body this close an exercise in restraint.
Do I need to list out the reasons why? There are too many.
Jake opens the door to his apartment, oblivious to my internal struggle as he pulls me along. He shuts the door behind us and lets me go.
I stand in the living area watching him move toward the kitchen with fuzzy eyes. “So what else did you want to do, then?” I ask him. “Because I have an idea.”
Jake pauses in the act of setting his beer on the counter. He turns and looks at me. I still have the wine glass in my hand. I lift it to my lips and tip it back, swallowing the last half in one go. Then I set the glass on their little coffee table with a clank.
With my hands now free, I take the hem of my tank top and peel it off, mussing my hair as I toss it on the nearby sofa.
My intentions cannot be any clearer.
The pulse point in Jake’s neck throbs visibly. “I want to talk.” His tone is rough as if saying the words pains him.
My chin lifts. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m never wrong.”
“So what?” His eyes darken. They run down the length of me and back up again. My body aches, the need inside me rising to a level so strong I’m drowning in it. “You want to …”
He trails off as I start toward him, reaching behind to unclasp my bra as I get closer. “To fuck?” Good. That’s good, Mac, my inner voice croons. Keep emotion out of it. Nothing more to it than just a physical reaction. “Yeah.”
I drop my bra to the floor, now clad only in a pair of denim shorts.
“Mac …” His protest is weak. “Please. Can we just talk for a minute?”
“I don’t want to,” I say, reaching his side.
I take his shirt and tug it up. He reaches behind and peels it off. “What do you want?” he asks, his question a hoarse whisper of need.
“You.”
Jake puts his hands on my shoulders. He runs the calloused palms down my arms and presses his forehead to mine. “I want you too. So much.”
I hate you for this, Jake. For making me want you after everything you did. My body trembles and my eyes burn from the wild emotion. I close them, finding that space where I can let go and give myself over. I need this outlet, desperately. “So take me.”
Jake’s grip tightens at my submission, and his lips press against mine.
Oh god. The light touch is so intimate my legs almost give out. His kiss is the equivalent of spending days in the desert and getting your first sip of cool water. My mouth opens with invitation. Jake doesn’t disappoint. His hot, hungry tongue sweeps in and rubs against mine. A hand fists in my hair. My scalp stings from the force of it.
A breathless moan escapes me.
Jake breaks the kiss, panting as he draws back. He lets go of me and skates his hands down my chest until he’s cupping my breasts. His touch isn’t enough. It’s too light. His grip firms as if hearing my need. He runs his fingers over my nipples, pinching them. I moan again and he pinches harder. A subtle sliver of pain shoots through me, igniting my blood. It sends a rush of heat between my legs. “Oh god,” I groan.
“You like that?”
My eyes flutter open. “More,” is all I get passed my lips.
“Fuck,” he mutters, heat flaring in his eyes.
Jake walks me backward until I reach the sofa. He pushes me down. My ass hits the soft cushions, and he takes the button of my shorts and flicks it open. The zipper slides down and my shorts are tugged off.
My panties follow quickly. Jake yanks them down with force, his expression almost brutal with its intensity. Kneeling between my legs, he grabs my thighs. His fingers dig in as he wrenches me toward him. “I can’t be gentle with you, Princess,” he cautions, his eyes dark and hungry. “Not right now.”
My stomach knots with pain. You’ll always be my princess.
Oh my god. I still love him. The shocking realisation leaves me sick. How can you still love the person who left you when you needed them the most? What is wrong with me? I’m strong enough to withstand a goddamn apocalypse.
So why can’t I withstand you, Jake Romero?
I glare. “Good. I don’t want gentle from you. Ever.”
Because that will be too much.
JAKE
My heart is raw from the punches Mac keeps pulling. I endure them. As long as I can have her, even like this, it’s enough. For now.
I lower my head and stroke her with my tongue.
A soft breath escapes her lips. But I want more. I want her crying my name.
I take her clit in my mouth and suck hard. So hard it probably hurts. Her back bows from the couch and her head falls back. My cock throbs at the sight.