Page 55 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

“Maybe on someone who’s too immature or selfish to be having sex. I like to know.” His thumb touches the inside of my wrist and draws the smallest circle. My eyes flutter closed, and I feel like I could pass out. Jack’s body is heat, just out of reach. He’s close but he’s not pressing himself against me. Not giving what my body is craving.

I like to know.

What do you like?

I love when a woman is selfish.

I have never encountered a man like this in the wild. The men I’ve been with have never even slowed down enough to process the need for these questions. Sex for me has always been A + B = C.Meanwhile it seems Jack has been out there performing advanced algebra.

He hooks his finger under my straps, tauntingly slow. I open my eyes and look down at where he could easily flick the thin fabric from my body. I wait in anticipation. Will he do it?

“In your scene, you have them naked in seconds. But if it were up to me…and if I knew the woman in question needed a little more attention to reach climax”—his finger slips away, his knuckle grazing my shoulder as he does—“I’d peel these flimsy clothes from you so slowly you’d want to die. I’d memorize every inch of skin I was given the privilege to see.” He pauses and squints one eye like he’s working on the details of a drawing. “After releasing your straps, I’d let the gown dangle around your waist for a bit rather than taking it all the way off. I think small moments of savoring like that go a long way.”

His finger skates down the side of my torso, barely touching me all the way until he reaches the lace trim at the side of my thigh. “I’d bunch this up so I could touch all the places it’s hiding.” His eyes watch my face and I feel like I’m in the most sensual haze of my life. And then, Jack sinks down in front of me to his knees. The same position he was in back in the kitchen that night, but so, so different now. His eyes trace the cut of fabric that exposes the smallest sliver of skin from my thigh to my hip. “Assuming there’s another scrap of fabric under here…” He taps my hip bone. I nearly vibrate like a rung bell. “I’d probably…or rather I’d have your hero hook the side of it with his finger like this and pull it all the way down.” My imagination is on fire. “Step out of them please, love.”

It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend. It’s all pretend.

I raise my feet, miming the action of removing my panties. Oh boy, even thinking the wordpantieswith Jack right here kneeling like that seems so wrong. In the very best way. Jack’s gaze devoursme like this—as if I’m actually standing here completely naked in front of him. He can see right through my clothes. His hands wrap the back of my legs, the most reverent touch in the world. His gaze lifts to me as he runs his hands up my calves and stops, holding on to me just above the bend in my knee. “Then I’d tell you to take one of these pretty legs and, if you’re comfortable, hook it over my shoulder so I could taste you until I wrung every bit of pleasure from you at least once.”

I have to brace my palms flat against the door just at the thought. His eyes trail back up my legs, his hands gliding with him as he stands. “Only then, once I knew you were good and ready, I’d scoop you up…” And he actually does, bending to take my legs out from under me and carry me to the couch. “And I’d put you here.” He sets me onto the couch. “I’d take off my clothes for you, and then climb over you.” His clothes stay put (regrettably), but he does gently climb over me. Except he doesn’t press into me like I need. He uses all of his muscle to keep most of his body off me. But I’m dying for it. Dying for him. So far, this is the best sex I’ve ever had, and we haven’t even really touched.

His inked forearms are on either side of my face, and it’s an effort not to turn and kiss his arm. His skin would be blazing against my lips, I just know it.

“Now, if you really wanted to be on top, I’d consider it at this point. But see, you’d have to convince me that it’s exactly what you wanted, and still…” In a deft move, he wraps his arm around my lower back until he flips us and somehow I’m on top of him, straddling him with his hands holding firmly around my hip bones. “I wouldn’t let you do all the work.” His grin up at me is absolutely devastating. His eyes drink me in. This isn’t real, and yet it is painfully realistic. “I’d tell you how beautiful you are. How I think you’re the strongest woman I know, but I also really admire the soft places you hide away. That you’re scared of. I’d tell you I wantyou to let go and let me take care of you like this. That you’re safe with me.” He traces my collarbone with his finger, and I can’t help it, but my eyes are stinging and misty. What would this be like? What would it feel like to have someone saying these words to me and meaning them? (Even as I think it, something in me whispers that Jack does mean them.)

Some of the emotion sharpens when the corner of his mouth tilts. “And then I’d work with you until you were sweating and crying my name. Until I wiped everyone else from your mind.”

Ah—and there’s the cocky man I know.

His body is firm and taut beneath me, and I have to try very hard to breathe normally. Not to move exactly how my body is begging me to against him. He’s right. I’ve never made love like this. Nothing even close to it. And this was only an overview. Everything in comparison has been lifeless and gray. I never thought ofefficientas a bad word until now. I never want efficient again. I want lazy. I want intense. I want blazing eyes and sweet hands and desperate words all over my body.This man,I think with frightening honesty,I would want to snuggle.

And he knows it.

He squeezes my hips like he can sense how badly I’m resisting giving in to what my body wants right now. “So what’s your verdict on my scene?”

The verdict is that I’m in trouble.

I lean over, putting my hands on the couch cushion beneath his head. I bring my lips to his but don’t kiss him. “I’ll consider it.”

Now he’s struggling to breathe. I can tell. His eyes shut for a beat like he’s in pain. It would be so easy for both of us to give in right now and end this torture. I’m so ready I could cry.

Maybe we could just…

I cover his hand on my hip and slide it back over the curve ofmy ass. He groans and the sound weaves between my ribs. “Jack…what if—”

My phone rings.

It rings loudly from the wall, and I roll off Jack and thump to the floor. Jack is catapulting upright. The ringing seems louder than normal. Feels like a siren. A warning.

We hold eye contact for long enough to exchange the same thought:That really almost happened.

I go answer my phone and now I’m Method acting a zombie. It’s Madison—finally calling to catch up. And normally I’d be ecstatic to hear from her. I’d drop everything with joy. But right now, all I can do is watch Jack offer me an awkward wave and then walk out the door.

A little thought flashes quickly like a lightning bug:I wish he were staying.

June 13

Jack (7:45 AM):How dare you allow me to act out a sexy scene with you while my shirt is not only inside out but also on backward? I just got back and looked in the mirror…this is appalling.

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