Page 95 of Jake's Angel

“Come here,” he demands. I jump at the gruff sound of his voice, but I do as he asks. I stand in front of him with nothing but his T-shirt and my lacy panties between us.

I knew I should’ve grabbed the sweatpants too.

I’m nervous standing before him like this between the table and the couch. If he gets close enough, there will be no way to hide my arousal.

I know he saw me last night, but I was a mess and I wasn’t really thinking about him looking at me. He wanted to see my scars, not my body. The way he’s looking at me now, with darkness and desire in his eyes, has my stomach doing flips. It’s an almost predatory look, and it has my insides melting and my mind freaking out.

“Relax, baby. I’m just going to look at the scars and see if your idea to cover them will work.”

Of course, he doesn’t want to look at me like that! He’s a tattoo artist and I’m justhis job.

Reality comes crashing down yet again and slaps me out of my twisted fantasies. Tattooing is his job, just like babysitting me. I let out an aggravated breath, and he grins.

Asshole.

He runs his hands ever so lightly up my thighs, pushing the material of his shirt higher. “Hold this here, would you?”

I grab the shirt and bunch it between my hands. His hands graze the top of my panties, and my body responds without my consent. I’m silently praying to whatever deity will listen to help me.

Please don’t let him notice how aroused I’m getting. I don’t need him knowing what he does to me. He will never let me live it down.

He gently pulls the top of my panties down just below my hips, but not low enough to fully expose me. I focus my eyes on a spot on the kitchen cabinet behind him.

Looks like he should really fix the door on that one. It looks crooked.

He groans as he continues to run his fingers back and forth, then around and down the scars. He’s concentrating on the burns. I can feel his breath on my skin and it’s sending shivers across my stomach.

Get ahold of yourself, Avery!

I hear him chuckle, but still, he says nothing. All too quickly, he puts my panties back in place and tugs his T-shirt back down, covering my body.

“I’ll draw a few things up and see what you think. We can’t do anything for a while, but at least you’ll have some ideas to go off,” he says, grabbing his sketch pad and leaning back on the couch where he gets back to sketching his original drawing.

“You don’t have to. I hear there’s a tattoo shop in Big Rock. It’s not too far from here. I can just go there when I’m ready.”

“Like hell you will,” he growls. “When the time comes to do the work, I’ll take care of you.” I go to argue with him, but he shakes his head, letting me know it’s the end of this discussion. I don’t know what to think or how I feel about any of this. Rather than sit here feeling like an idiot, I grab my cup, go to the kitchenand pour myself more coffee. When I start to leave the room, he calls after me.

“What?” I snap. Not meaning to sound so rude, but being around him with all this hot and cold, push and pull, has me so confused and feeling …feelings!Ugh.

He was so tender and sweet with me last night. The way he kept calling me angel and baby. I thought maybe he meant something by it. Then, when he pinned me down, I almost thought he was going to kiss me again. Hell, I wanted him to do so much more than kiss me. But now he’s acting different. I don’t know what to do with it all.

“Get some clothes out of Jayde’s room and get cleaned up. I’m taking you to Liz’s house while we hold church. I don’t think you want to show up wearing nothing but my T-shirt.” He smirks. I glare back at him and flip him the bird. I stomp my feet a little louder down the hall and hear his laughter as I slam the bedroom door shut.

For someone so unbelievably attractive, protective, and sweet, he can be such an asshat!

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JAKE

DrivingAvery back to Liz’s house was frustrating, to say the least. After showering, she put on a pair of Jayde's denim cutoffs and a gray T-shirt. She couldn’t get to the car fast enough. She hasn’t said a word to me since she left me sitting on the couch. It’s like a switch flipped and she’s back to hating me again.

She stared out the window the whole ride and wouldn’t give me more than one-word answers when I spoke to her. When I asked her what was bothering her, she said, “Nothing.” When I asked if I said or did something to upset her, she said no. She sat there with her hands folded in her lap, staring at the passing trees, turning colder and colder toward me.

I don’t get it.

I thought last night she had warmed up to me a bit. She seemed to find comfort in my touch and let me hold her while she told me about what happened to her. Hell, I thought the fact I stayed and comforted her and not tracked down the sick bastard was saying something.Although I will be addressing the shit in church today.

When I tickled her and pinned her on the couch, I know she was feeling what I was because her breathing picked up, same as mine. The way her breath hitched and her legs trembled at my touch as I lifted my shirt off her to see her scars, I know she was turned on. Hell, I could smell her arousal, and it took all my restraint not to drag her down onto my lap and have her right then and there.

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