He assisted, his hands at her hips, gaze locked on hers, holding her prisoner. A willing prisoner.
They ended up on the floor. Then against the door. And then last but not least in the shower, leaving her to wonder if he was even human.
By then it was dark and past her bedtime. She was rag-doll floppy, sated beyond her greatest imagination and making contented, purring noises that she couldn’t seem to control.
This left Jacob to towel her off from their shower, as she was unable to lift a finger to help him. But she did manage to lift a finger—all of them, in fact—to touch him, trailing her fingertips across his chest and abs, which contracted at her touch.
When his body rose to the challenge, she had to laugh. “Aren’t you tired?”
He smiled, but his gaze remained focused on the towel he had covered her with and was now slowly sliding from her. “Never too tired for this.”
A soft moan escaped her when he bent his head and let his mouth follow the trail of the towel. She might have whimpered as she found a secret stash of energy in reserve…
Much, much later she found herself curled up in his bed, his arms wrapped around her. His lips were warm and soft against hers, and unlike their kisses earlier, this one was unhurried.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“I need sleep for tomorrow…” She looked at his clock. It was two thirty. “…Today,” she murmured drowsily. “The on-site boss is rumored to be a real hard-ass. If I go to sleep right now, I could still get six hours before any Wounded Warriors show up.”
“You know what would be even better?” he asked, voice all bedroom husky.
“Let me guess,” she said. “Five hours?”
He smiled. “I like the way you think.” And then he rolled them, tucking her beneath him.
Or four, she thought. She could definitely make do with four…
Jacob woke up the next morning to the deafening roar of Sophie thinking too hard. She had her head on his shoulder, an arm and a leg thrown over him, holding him to the mattress, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d drooled in the crook of his neck. The thought made him start to smile, but it vanished when he realized that she was slowly inching away from him.
Once again trying to sneak out of his bed.
She was a horrible sneak. She had her hair in his face and nearly unmanned him with her knee, but because he was amused at her utter lack of skill, he let her get to the edge of the mattress before he said her name.
She fell out of the bed.
She immediately leapt back up and whirled, clearly looking for something to cover herself. He caught her expression, so utterly anxious, it quelled his amusement.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Did I wake you?”
Pushing the fury at Lucas down deep for now, he rolled out of the bed and came slowly toward her. Halfway there, he scooped his T-shirt off the floor and gently dropped it over her head, smiling at her when her face peeked out and the hem fell to mid-thigh.
Having her here with him like this made his heart beat faster, made him feel worth something, and he enjoyed every second he spent with her, even when they were bickering. Maybe especially when they were bickering. They had something here between them, something good. And he was pretty sure he could prove it to her. But if she needed to hide behind the sex until she felt safe, until she realized that he would never hurt her, that was fine. And damn if he wouldn’t make sure she enjoyed herself in the meantime, because even though he had the patience of a saint, he most definitely wasn’t one.
Her hair was wild and crazy, and he stroked the beautiful mess back from her face and bent to kiss her.
She put a hand between their mouths. “I haven’t brushed my teeth!”
“Me either,” he said, not retreating but instead smiling into her adorably worried face. Then he stayed right where he was, their mouths a fraction of an inch from each other, separated only by her hand, waiting, letting her make both the decision and the move.
She blinked once, slow as an owl, and then slowly lowered her hand.
Taking the invitation, he gave her a short, sweet kiss. “Morning,” he said huskily, and then grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking hot in only his shirt and bedhead hair.
“Making you breakfast, which is what you missed out on when you played possum and then sneaked out the last time you spent the night.”
“I didn’t sneak.”
He gave her a knowing look, and she had the grace to blush. “Well, if I’d known breakfast was on the itinerary…,” she muttered.
In the kitchen, he lifted her to sit on the counter and started pulling stuff out of his fridge.
She watched with avid interest. “So you can cook?”
“Bacon and eggs,” he said. “But my ability is born out of hunger, not raw talent.”
She watched him start the bacon and then crack eggs into a bowl one-handed and gave a wolf whistle of appreciation.