Nobody But You (9 page)

Holding her gaze, he took her hand in his and brushed his mouth over her palm.

Her thighs quivered.

His fingers squeezed hers. “Be sure, Soph.”

“I'm the one who said ‘when,'” she reminded him, and then paused. “Are
you
sure?”

He hauled her against him, wrapping her up tight in his warm, strong arms and then rocked his hips to hers.

He was hard.

Yep, he was sure.

“I told you I wanted this,” he said. “That I wanted you.”

“Yes, but you were under the influence.” She stared into his eyes. “Maybe I wasn't sure you meant it.”

“I mean everything I say.” His voice rumbled quietly in his chest, vibrating against hers. “Always.”

She shook her head in automatic denial. “I don't buy into promises. I don't want anything like that from you. From anyone.”

“We'll circle back to that later.”

“No,” she said. “We won't. No need. I know what this is, and I especially know what this isn't.”

“So you have a crystal ball, then,” he said.

Stepping back, she crossed her arms over her chest. “This isn't going exactly the way I expected.”

“You expected what, a quick fuck, no words?”

“Yes, please,” she said. “You going to deliver or not?”

He laughed low in his throat. “Now she says the ‘please,'” he said, apparently to no one in particular. Then he met her gaze. “I can deliver.” This was a low, husky, confident vow.

She shivered in anticipation. “You keep saying stuff like that, but I'm still standing here waiting for you to prove it.”

“Our first kiss wasn't proof enough? Or our second?”

She shrugged, feeling overheated and uncomfortably aroused and a little bit like he was just teasing her. “A kiss is a kiss. They're all the same to me.”

“Liar.”

She felt herself flush, the heat rising all the way to the roots of her hair.
Caught
. Because she knew exactly how good it'd been when he'd taken her in his arms and kissed her. She couldn't forget a single second of any of it, all indelibly imprinted in her brain, every brush of his mouth, every touch of his fingers, every rough male sound of appreciation torn from his throat.

She started to turn away, but he pulled her back to him, her spine to his chest, her butt to his crotch.

He was still hard, deliciously so, and she couldn't help but wriggle into him.

He whipped her around to face him, and his eyes were dark and flickering with something much more than amusement now. Challenge and heat, both of those things licking along her every nerve ending. “Let me show you,” he said, and lowered his head. But he surprised her when he spent a moment nuzzling at her jaw, murmuring softly against her ear. “We're doing this.”

She clutched at him. “Yes.” God, yes.

Wrapping his hand up in her ponytail, he gently but firmly tugged until she lifted her face to his. “If I'm going to be in your bed, Sophie, you're mine for the duration.”

And hell if that didn't set back her inner feminist when her entire body quivered at the thought of being his. “But not in a
Fifty Shades
way, right?”

He flashed a grin. “Scared?”

Terrified
. “You should know a few things about me,” she said. “One, I really am good at shoving a guy's balls into his throat.”

“Duly noted,” he said. “And two?”

This was the hard part. She swallowed. “I'm really pretty vanilla.”

His eyes softened and he kissed her gently. “One of my favorite flavors,” he murmured.

Something inside her melted. “One more thing.”

“Name it,” he said.

“It's going to have to be your bed. Mine's too small.”

He smiled a very naughty smile. “Then I guess that makes me yours.”

She quivered at the thought. “Tell me you get hot water in your shower.”

“The hottest.”

“Jacob?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurry.”

S
ophie barely registered Jacob taking her hand, pulling her from the boat, the both of them moving up the dock, across the beach to his cabin.

Remembered nothing of the interior of his place or how they got to his bedroom. Remembered nothing but him kicking the door closed and pushing her up against it and kissing her.

He was hers, she thought with dazed marvel. Hers for the duration. A thrill raced through her as she fought to get even closer to him. Oh, the things she wanted to do to that hard, lean, perfect body holding her to the door, starting with licking him from chin to the waistband of those sexy board shorts and beyond. Just thinking about it had needy whimpers escaping while their mouths tangoed.

“I've got you,” he whispered roughly, his teeth scraping her throat as his hands slid down her thighs and lifted her up so that she could wrap her legs around him. “I've got you.”

She had no idea what that meant exactly, but she was racing to her first orgasm in far too long and she was very busy trying to get her hands beneath his shirt, needing his heated skin on hers. Her fingers danced over the sculpted landscape of his sleek back and then came around to his chest, where she could once again feel the beat of his heart, not nearly so steady now. With a soft sigh, she went up on tiptoes and nipped his lower lip between her teeth, tugging at it before letting go.

His dark eyes blazed with promises of the retribution she wanted. She wanted him so badly she was shaking, wanted to be held, and for just a little while, wanted to lose herself. And she wanted the same for him, wanted him to be able to lose himself in her too.

Their bodies strained to get closer, but a sheet of paper couldn't fit between them. Her racing pulse throbbed so loudly in her own ears she couldn't hear anything else. But then Jacob smiled that incomparable smile and she did hear something, her inner voice saying “uh-oh” in a dazed voice.
You're going to get more than you bargained for. Remember, every good thing that's ever come into your life has cost you in blood, sweat, or tears…

“Shut up,” she said.

Jacob pulled back, a brow raised.

“Not you!” she said quickly. “My inner voice.” She shook her head. “Ignore her. She's a bitch.”

He laughed low in his throat and caressed the mad curls at her hairline, drawing a finger down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “I like her,” he said, and then covered her mouth with his again, possessing her with sweetness and ferocity, the carnal intensity of it knocking her for a loop.

When they broke apart to breathe, Jacob held her gaze as he let her legs slide to the ground. He hit the lock on his bedroom door. Reached behind him for the hand she had pressed low on his back, taking her cell phone from her weak fingers, setting it aside. His phone was removed from his pocket and suffered the same fate.

Then he pulled off his shirt, and while she stood there gawking at all the mind-boggling hotness—those shoulders! that chest! the abs!—he kicked off his shoes. This left him in those low-slung board shorts, which were just loose enough to gap away from mouthwatering abs, giving her a tantalizing, teasing glimpse of a treasure trail.

Before her fingers could reach out and touch, he unzipped her sweatshirt and discovered her secret.

She had nothing on beneath.

“I was in a hurry to get food,” she said in explanation.

His growl was low and appreciative as his big, warm hands slid up her bare torso and cupped her breasts. “Make my day and tell me you're completely commando,” he said hoarsely, his fingers rasping over her tight and aching nipples.

“I might be—” She broke off with a gasp when in the next beat her sweatpants were at her ankles.

Note to self: maybe not quite ready for prime time with Jacob Kincaid
.

“Yeah,” he said, voice filled with so much heat she nearly collapsed. “You went completely commando.”

“Food, Jacob! I needed food!”

He laughed low in his throat, and his hands moving over her, slow and sure and igniting flames wherever they touched, which was
everywhere
. “Still need food?” he asked.

He had one hand on her ass and the other slowly gliding down her belly, heading south. “I…”

Those talented fingers of his slid between her thighs with a gentle but knowing stroke, and she forgot what she was going to say.

“Soph. Food? Or this?”
This
being a very naughty, very knowing glide of his fingers.

She opened her mouth to tease him and say food, but he did something diabolical with the pad of his thumb and she gasped and clutched at him. “Your shorts,” she managed. “You're still wearing them.”

A wicked smile crossed his mouth as he stripped free of them in a single economical movement.

Before she could get a look at the goods, he wrestled her onto his bed. “I fantasized about this last night,” he said, crawling up between her legs and pinning her with his delicious weight.

“About me going commando?”

He smiled, intense,
dangerous
. “About you beneath me on my bed,” he said, and then rolled so that she now straddled him. “And over me. Scoot up, Soph.”

“Um, what?” Scoot up? To where?

Jacob didn't repeat himself, just slipped his arms beneath her thighs and physically lifted her farther up his chest and then…

Oh God, and then.

His hands were on her ass, his mouth on ground zero.

She did her best to pretend she'd been in this position before, but the truth was she had absolutely no idea what to do with herself. She was literally sitting on his face! Deer in the headlights, she stilled, her hands fluttering in the air.

Beneath her, he let out what might have been a low laugh—she'd kill him later, she promised herself—and grabbed her hands, bringing them to the headboard above him, waiting until she'd taken hold of the wood spindles to squeeze, letting her know he wanted her grip on them tight.

Since she was on an unknown roller-coaster ride without a harness, she could do little else.

Nudging her legs wider with his shoulders, he settled himself in. When his tongue caressed her in just the exact right spot, her every available brain cell not involved in basic life support honed in on the action. “Ohmigod,” she gasped completely involuntarily as his tongue and lips teased her sensitive flesh, his shoulders holding her open for him, his hands on her ass. She'd never been quite so open and vulnerable before.

“God, you taste good,” he murmured, shifting gears, going from nuzzling to kissing and making her tremble. Her hands started to slip from the headboard, but his eyes met hers and she tightened her grip—just as he captured her tender flesh and sucked.

It drove her straight to the very edge, even past it, just enough that she hovered there over the precipice, in that stomach-dropping heartbeat just before the free fall.

Had she ever felt like this? So wild, so completely, utterly out of control? So…close to another human being?

That answer was easy.

No.

Which brought its own terror. Because what the hell was she doing, allowing him to see her like this? Hell, allowing him to take her like this, turning her into a panting, whimpering, overheated ball of messy lust?

And that's when she froze, too open, too exposed, too damn…scared about what it might all mean. “Wait—I can't,” she panted, her fingers white-knuckling a death grip on the headboard. “I can't—”

Jacob immediately reached up, covering her hands with his large warm ones, using his fingertips to run between hers and gently pry hers from the wood. “I've got you,” he murmured huskily, squeezing her fingers. “Sophie, I've got you.”

She nodded wildly. Good. He had her. That was really good, because God knew, she didn't have herself.

“Breathe,” he ordered quietly, running his hands up and down her thighs—which were hugging his ears! “Just breathe.”

Right. Breathe. She sucked air in and out, in and out, even as he kissed one inner thigh so gently and then the other. And then in between. She moaned, and he did it again.

And again, slowly driving her back up.

And then her fingers were in his hair, holding tight because he took her someplace she'd never been, someplace completely outside of herself, and when she came, she came long and hard. Afterward, her entire body collapsed. She just went completely boneless, unable to pick up her pieces and put herself together again.

But it didn't matter because Jacob scooped her in close, wrapping his arms tight around her, murmuring some sweet nothings in her ear. When she finally returned to herself, he smiled and kissed her, and then rolled, tucking her beneath him. “Now,” he said. “Let's review the ‘I can't.' Because you just did.”

She laughed. “Show-off.”

His smile faded, and he cupped her face. “Any more reservations?”

She couldn't think of a single one, so she slowly shook her head. He smiled again as he reached over her for something in his nightstand.

A condom.

Okay, good. Really good. One of them still had an operating brain. Because all she could do was run her hands over his chest, over the ridged muscles of his abs, which quivered beneath her touch as she headed south to the promised land. When she stroked him, he let out a very male sound of appreciation and thrust into her hand.

“Hold that thought,” he said. He tore open the package with his teeth and then rolled the condom down his length, leaving her practically panting as she watched. This was lust on a seismic scale. It was something more, too, but she shoved that way down deep. She had no idea how, but he was making it impossible for her to resist him, or even remember why she'd wanted to. “You keep forgetting to hurry,” she complained.

With a half laugh, half groan, Jacob sank inside her. Weight braced on his forearms, he cupped her face as he moved, taking his time, going so deep she gasped and her eyes threatened to roll back in her head. And then again. And yet again, and she felt her toes start to curl as she rocked up, cradling him between her thighs like he belonged there. “More,” she moaned.

He thrust again and she tightened in anticipation, but instead of more, he pulled his mouth from hers. She opened her eyes, and in his dark gaze she saw her own heavy-lidded look reflected.

“I'm not really into hurrying,” he said.

“What are you into?”

“Slow. Long. Hard. Hot. Dirty…” His teeth sank into her earlobe. “You still in?”

She took a breath to steady herself and rocked up, seating him even deeper inside her, clenching her inner muscles at the same time.

He groaned out her name. “Yeah, you're in.”

“No,
you're
in,” she said, making him snort.

Then he gripped her hips and took her. Slow. Long. Hard. Hot. Dirty…She was gasping, panting, begging for more in thirty seconds, but he continued to take his sweet-ass time, remaining buried deep and rocking gently, only to pull out and push in slowly, stretching her, reaching deeper with each stroke.

When she arched up into him and dug her nails into his back, crying out his name, she finally unleashed the beast. He set a pace that had her writhing beneath him, desperate as he moved over her, holding her head between his hands, kissing her with the same intensity that their bodies moved together.

When she burst again, crying out as the pleasure took her, he came with her, mouth to mouth, his eyes holding hers through the shocking pleasure. He stayed with her, over her, buried deep, leaving no part of her untouched, and when she finally caught her breath, she realized she was clinging to him like he was her security blanket. She quickly let go and gave a tentative wiggle, thinking he'd roll off of her and then the awkward aftermath could be had and gotten over with.

But he didn't move except to nuzzle at her jaw.

She wriggled again and this time added a little shove.

He let out a low, rough laugh, giving her one of those little post-sex body shudders that was practically another orgasm. “You make a man forget he's got obligations,” he murmured, and rubbed against her like a big ol' cat.

Oh God. He was getting hard again. And even more shockingly, her body had twined itself around him like she was the salt to his pretzel. “Oh no,” she said, slapping her hands to his chest. “Nope.”

Lifting his head, eyes heavy-lidded, hair tousled, a bite mark on his neck—holy cow, a bite mark on his neck? She'd bitten him? When had she bitten him?—he gave her the full view of his post-coital expression, and damn. Damn, he was so effing hot. “I mean it,” she said weakly as he brushed a kiss over her temple and then her cheek.

He gave one last lazy thrust, and though she would deny this until the end of time, she nearly came from that alone. “What are you,” she asked, “one-hundred-proof testosterone and pheromones? You've had your fun, now move.”

So he moved.

Inside her.

“Like that?” the bastard asked sinfully.

She gasped and clutched at him. “You know that's not what I meant.”

Giving another soft laugh, he kissed her, soft and sweet, and finally, thank God, he moved off her.

She felt the loss like she would a missing limb…Not that she would admit that. Ever.

But he took one look at her face and flashed a knowing grin.