The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine (14 page)

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Authors: Kate Angell

BOOK: The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
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Chapter 13
C
hloe was burning alive.
She was so hot. So turned on. She couldn't think of anything but touching Jack. It was as though her hand had a mind of its own, because she could not help herself.
His fingers played over the curve of her spine.
She shifted, her leg riding higher, closer to where his arousal was obvious. She worked her way under his shirt, stroking over his flat abdomen. Marveling at the way his muscles tensed under her.
They still hadn't spoken.
It was like they had some silent agreement between them not to say anything.
As wrong as it was, as much as she knew it was stupid, she didn't want anything to break this spell.
She hadn't felt like this in forever.
Hadn't lusted this hard in a million years. Maybe not ever. It was exciting and exhilarating. Too addictive to stop, despite the protests in her brain.
Her breath kicked up.
Jack's did the same.
He traced a path down the curve of her waist.
She raked her nails over his stomach.
He jerked, inhaling sharply.
It was too much.
It wasn't enough.
She didn't want to speak.
But she wanted more. Needed more. Closer.
She shifted; his big hand covered her ribs.
Her thigh journeyed higher.
Their breathing turned harsh.
Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.
A chant in her head. Begging, really.
She tilted her hips, brushing her soft center against his leg.
He moved his thigh, pressing up and hard, creating a friction she was desperate for.
The tips of his fingers brushed the undercurve of her breast. Just the barest hint. Just enough to make her ache.
The temptation to touch warred with the temptation not to break the final barrier that would change their friendship forever.
She walked a path over his ribs.
The air grew hot. Humid. She thought she might suffocate with all these clothes on.
She nudged his balls with her knee. He moaned, the sound thrilling.
“Christ.” His voice, low and guttural. He tightened his hold for one fraction of a second, then flipped her over onto her back.
His mouth covered hers.
And all that barely contained sexual energy exploded around them.
His tongue licked into her mouth. She groaned, tangling her hands in his hair.
The kiss turned hotter, wetter. Dirtier.
She shuddered. His leg pressed between her thighs, and she ground against his hard muscle, unable to help herself.
He ripped away from her. He shifted. “Too many clothes.”
He yanked at her sweatshirt, and she arched, letting him whisk it over her head.
He growled and fisted the fabric of the next layer.
That went over her head, too.
She sat up, and, both of them kneeling, she grabbed his head, bringing him close.
Their lips tangled. Their hands searched. She slanted her head, deepening the angle of the kiss. It was everything a kiss should be, and it increased her frustration by about a thousand.
He pulled the next shirt over her head, looked down at her, and said in a voice that sounded like pure sex, “How many fucking tops do you have on?”
“One more.” She pulled at his shirt, and over his head it went.
Then hers was gone, and their mouths met, their skin touched. It was like a bomb went off, detonating through the room with its force.
They went at it. Their mouths a frantic, searching quest. As though they were trying to make up for thirty years of longing in this one kiss. He bit her lower lip and she raked her nails down his back.
They tumbled to the bed, and his body was finally, deliciously covering hers.
She arched.
He surged.
They rocked.
She dug her nails into the base of his back.
His hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb stroking over the nipple.
She cried out, and he caught the sound with his lips.
He ripped away from her, slid down her body, and captured her nipple with his lips, while his free hand snaked down into her yoga pants.
He licked at the hard bud. Sucked.
Her hips arched off the bed as he tugged harder and harder.
When his teeth scraped over her oversensitive flesh, she keened and she couldn't stop the words from falling from her lips. “Jack. God. Jack. Yes. More.”
He groaned, the sound vibrating over her skin. He pulled her deeper into his mouth. His fingers slid down her waistband and into her panties. Her legs parted. His fingers brushed her clit. She bowed off the bed.
He circled the bundle of nerves and lifted his head. “So damn wet.”
She could feel how wet she was, how slippery. “More.”
He pushed one long finger inside her, and kissed her, brushing his mouth over her lips. “You feel like heaven.”
She arched into his touch as his thumb relentlessly circled her clit. Around and around. Over and over. Until she thought she'd go mad with sheer need. “Jack. Please.”
He plunged two fingers inside her, hooking on a spot so good she lost focus.
“Please what, Chlo?”
His voice, oh God, his voice. Achingly familiar and yet strange all at once.
He swiped over her flesh and she keened again as her body tightened. “Stop.” Her head rolled back. “I'm going to come.”
He increased his pressure and whispered against the shell of her ear, “Then come.”
She fought against the tide riding fast and desperate. Desire rolled through her. She gasped out, “No, please.”
“Please what?”
She put her hand on his wrist, relentlessly driving her crazy. “Not without you.”
He groaned and kissed her, hard and passionate, before rolling away from her to sit up on the edge of the mattress.
She rose on her elbows, breathing hard. “Where are you going?”
He looked back at her and in that moment, with the moonlight streaming in, his hair a mess, his jaw strong, his shoulders broad, he was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. She had no idea how she'd ever resisted him, or why she'd even want to.
“Condom.” He grinned at her, and her heart squeezed before skipping a beat.
She flushed. “Oh.”
He got up and went into the bathroom, and when he returned he dropped about five onto the bedside table.
Her brows rose. “Why did you bring condoms?”
“I always carry them in my bag.”
“Just in case?” Somehow irritated at the notion.
With one foil packet still in his hand, he climbed onto the bed and settled on his haunches between her legs. He dropped the condom on her stomach, and gripped her ankles. “Are you saying you're not a tiny bit happy I'm prepared?” His hands moved up her legs to her hips.
She sucked in a breath at the look in his eye. “Maybe a tiny bit.”
He tugged down her pants, taking her underwear along with them, and tossing them to the floor.
Then he stopped, and stared.
She was naked, except for the condom packet that rested in the dip of her ribs, and he took in every single inch of her.
He shook his head. “My whole life men have asked me how I could possibly be just friends with you.”
She bit her lip, blinking up at him.
“And in this moment I have no fucking idea.”
He leaned down and kissed her stomach, her hip bones, while his big hands held her in place. Then his mouth was on her, covering her, licking over her clit.
She arched up, crying out as his tongue slid over her folds, making her mindless and crazy. She clutched the pillow, burying her head into the softness as he sucked and licked, nipping over her skin.
She clamped her thighs around his head. Whimpered.
He was going to drive her right over the edge.
His tongue lapped over her clit.
“Jack, stop,” she said, her voice harsh and panting. “I'm going to . . . God . . . No . . . I want . . .”
He didn't stop. Didn't ease up. He just pushed her harder.
His tongue. It was magic.
The condom packet slid off her stomach as she planted her feet and rocked into him. Giving up, surrendering to his will and determination. Everything that made Jack, Jack.
She coiled tight and then she exploded. She bit her lip, stifling her moans as she rode out wave after wave of delicious sensation.
She couldn't think, couldn't put together a sentence, but then he was on her, over her. His palm on her neck, his fingers on her jaw, twisting her face to meet his.
His mouth covered hers.
He tasted like sex.
And lust.
His grasp was tight on her jaw, and the way he kissed her, devoured her, sucked her right back under.
It was a raw, dirty kiss that consumed her. Her fingers came up to where he held her, and she dug her nails into his wrists.
He growled against her lips, biting her, sucking.
And the kiss went on and on and on.
He finally pulled away, grabbed the condom, and tore open the package. He tossed it onto her body again, ridding himself of his sweats, and then he was naked.
And she could only gape at him. Her gaze wide.
He had the best cock she'd ever seen in her life. Long and thick. A work of goddamn art.
She reached for him, but he grabbed her wrist, shaking his head. “I can't wait, Chlo.”
He picked up the condom, threw the packet on the floor somewhere and rolled the condom down his hard shaft.
She breathed out his name. “Jack.”
He leaned down, kissing her again, soft and sweet. His erection nudged between her legs. “Just let me inside.”
She nodded, some distant part of her mind grasping the fact that she was about to have sex with Jack.
Her best friend.
The one person who knew her better than anyone. Knew all her secrets. Her likes. The things she hated. Her hopes and fears.
He'd seen her at her very best, and her absolute worst.
He'd held her hair when she was sick. Listened to her rant, supported her even when everyone else thought she was crazy.
Jack entered her, filling her. Stretching her tight and opening her eyes to what she'd refused to see all these years.
When he was seated to the hilt, their eyes met, gazes locked and held.
And she knew the truth.
He was her one true love.
Chapter 14
N
othing on this earth had ever felt as good as being inside Chloe.
He gritted his teeth, hanging on to the last remnants of sanity he possessed, as he tried to calm enough not to take her like some primal beast.
The grip of her.
The silky heat.
He braced his elbow next to her head and their eyes locked.
He was fucking Chloe.
This was going to change them forever.
He experienced a rush of panic that quickly dimmed as her thighs clasped his hips and she arched to meet him, gasping.
Her hands fell to his waist, nails digging into his skin.
He moved, gripped her wrists, and brought them up over her head. They were touching everywhere, the length of him sliding into her. Her breasts against his chest. Her inner muscles clamped around him and he cursed, thrusting inside her.
He'd think later. Much, much later.
He covered her mouth with his, his tongue sliding against hers. The air grew thick and humid. Tinged with a desperate, urgent lust. He ripped away and groaned.
Pumped harder inside her.
Her head pressed into the pillow and her neck arched.
He held her wrists tighter; he bit her exposed throat, before soothing the skin with his tongue.
She cried out. Her nails dug harder. Her thighs clenched.
Their movements deepened. Quickened.
He let her go, levered up, and rammed hard inside her, circling his hips. Grinding against her. Thrusting harder. Faster. Deeper.
The bed frame banged its frantic beat against the wall.
Over and over and over again.
Her body rippled down the length of his cock.
He jerked, losing what little control he had as he came in a loud shout, just as her orgasm rushed through her, milking him for everything he was worth, his vision dimming as intense pleasure tore through him in endless waves.
He had no idea how long they went on like that. Pushing and pulsing together mindlessly, lost in the aftershocks of bone-deep satisfaction. He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling that special scent, unique to Chloe. He licked her skin. Tasting salt and sex.
All her muscles relaxed under him, and he lifted his head to look at her.
Her eyes were closed. He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek, before rubbing a thumb over her swollen lips. “You okay?”
She nodded.
He brushed his mouth over hers. “Are you sorry?”
Her thick lashes fluttered open. “No. Are you?”
“Not even a little bit.”
Her expression flashed. “Good.”
He pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, looking at the ceiling. He'd just had his mind blown. He didn't even know what to say, where to begin, or how to process what they'd just done. He raked a hand through his hair. He smelled her everywhere, like she'd seeped into his skin and become a part of him. “Chlo?”
“Yeah?” Her voice as reflective as he felt.
He looked at her, that profile he knew as well as his own. Utterly beautiful. “That was the best sex I've ever had.”
She turned to look at him. “Oh yeah?”
“By a mile.”
“Me too.”
* * *
Late that night, exhausted, Chloe stared out the window that overlooked the lake, wearing nothing but Jack's shirt. He lay asleep on the bed, taking up almost all the space, not that it mattered.
She couldn't sleep.
They'd taken catnaps, in between rounds of hot, sweaty, mind-blowing sex. But after the last round, she'd grown restless.
By some sort of mutual, silent agreement they hadn't talked about what was happening. Instead, they'd been insatiable. He'd taken her over and over again, in every conceivable position. Like they couldn't get enough. Like they were making up for years of lost time.
And she was shaken to her very core. Because she couldn't escape the truth. She loved him. Maybe she'd been in love with him her whole life and hadn't realized it. Could she have been that blind?
She thought of all the ways they were together. The way they never wanted to be far apart. The way she cuddled close to him. The way she needed to talk to him when she'd had a bad day.
She gulped. The way she picked Jack over every other man in her life.
She took a deep breath. She'd been blind, but she wasn't now.
But what if Jack didn't feel the same way?
What if it was this place, their fortune, and the moon that made him want her?
Their friendship would be ruined forever. Because she knew the truth now. She couldn't go back. She could no longer pretend that he was just her friend when he clearly wasn't.
“Chloe?” Jack's sleepy voice filled the room.
She turned and peered over her shoulder. Heart skipping a beat at the sight of him sprawled on the bed. The moonlight streamed in through the window, casting him in its white light, highlighting his magnificence.
“Come back to bed.” He rolled to look at her, his chest bare and beautiful, his hair tousled. “I want you again.”
If she was only going to have one night, she wasn't going to waste a second.
The morning was only a few hours away.
And then she'd learn what her fate really held.

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