Page 64 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

He shakes his head lightly, fingers sinking into my hairline. Quicksand is pulling us under. “You won’t avoid me?”

“I’m a grown woman, Jack. I know how to let whatever happens in a closet stay in a closet.”

His eyes wander all over my face and neck like he’s deciding where he wants to start. With his hand still on my jaw, he dips forward and presses his mouth to mine. It’s an immediate hit of heat. A head-to-toe sweep of pleasure. I suck in a breath through my nose and hook my arm around Jack’s neck.

He pulls away and then presses in again. It’s even better the second time. The kiss is deeper, our mouths open a little. It’s cute. Like saying into a mic,test, one, two, three.I really like his mouth. His lips are soft and full without being too much. At the first touch of our tongues, I feel his smile—his teeth against my lip—and it turns the Christmas lights on in my heart. Jack just tasted me, and…it made him happy.Imake him happy.

But then Jack’s mouth slants over mine in a kiss that erases the wordcutefrom the slate. It goes from soft and sweet to hungry and spicy. It comes with a challenging sweep of his tongue that I immediately match and then lob my own back with a nip of his lip. Jack groans and I put my hand flat to his solid chest to feel it. I’m chasing sensations and collecting them all in my pocket for later.

I can’t get close enough now, for me or for Jack. His hands go to my torso, where he’s nudging me to turn and face him. I shuffle around as quietly as possible and straddle his lap, knees on the ground. No sooner than I’m seated, he pulls me in tightly against him, wrapping his arms fully around me. I run my hands down the expanded muscles of his back as our mouths explore and claim and tease.Of course,I think like a lightbulb illuminating in my head.Of course it would be this way with him.

When Jack rolls his hips into me, and I feel just how much he wants me, a blowtorch singes a line down my spine. I am hot and needy in a way I’ve never experienced before.

His mouth leaves mine to graze his teeth down the column on my throat, and I let my head fall back to expose every inch for him—arching as his fingers take over where his mouth can’t reach. And as he traces over the subtle curve of my cleavage, any last kernels of my good judgment turn into crushed coals, sparking embers through my veins.

I want his mouth on me again, so I tip forward and take it, sliding my fingers into his hair as his hand savors and learns me. Needbuilds in the base of my spine and my body snaps into autopilot. It demands that our clothes be off. It insists on taking as much contact and friction as possible.

“How do you feel this good?” he says, words scraping over my jaw.

“Vitamins.”

His chuckle is decadent, and I swallow it up.

Jack smells like green body wash, is morning-cup-of-coffee-warm, and touches like a mythological god that can heal. Our kisses are too frantic to belong in this quiet closet. They’re punctuated with jagged breaths and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep our movements to a minimum. I slide my hands under his shirt, over his chest, and brushing against the necklace lying against it. It’s a thin gold chain today with a little heart on the end. I want to take a sledgehammer to the walls of this confining space to spread his long body out on the floor so I can appreciate all of it with complete focus.

Jack’s gaze lingers on my hair for two beats before his hand is releasing my clip and letting my hair fall down my back. His private smile whispers triumph. And then his fingers move to toy with the little white buttons of my shirt that begin right between my cleavage, undoing them with swift magic all the way down to my belly button while he kisses me. “I love this shirt. I’ve been dreaming of popping these buttons open since I first saw you in it tonight.” His rough palm glides over my shoulder as he pushes the fabric aside. “I love that it matches your red nails. They drive me insane.” At his thorough exploration of the terrain under my shirt, I have to bite my lips together to keep from making sounds that would get us caught. Conscious thought is a struggle, though.

I have never felt so wonderfully outside myself while doing this kind of thing before. Usually I’m always thinking through the logistics, overly worried about the next step. But I couldn’t form astrategic thought right now if I tried. The only word pulsing through my mind isJack.

His name winds down through my ribs and narrows my focus on the place where our bodies meet. Where we’re moving against each other and nearly lost to the world entirely. And that’s when the TV turns off. The sudden drench of silence is as loud as an alarm. The floor creaks beneath us ever so silently and Jack and I go still as death. We’re both taking in shallow, frequent breaths, listening as Bart snaps his recliner shut and then tracking his heavy footfalls out of the living room, down the hall, and then finally, up the stairs.

With every thud against the floor, the need holding my body hostage recedes a little. Finally, when all is silent again, I meet Jack’s gaze. His hand is still holding my breast and at this point, it just feels comical. He gives me a lopsided, apologetic smile that dips into my stomach before he’s sweetly tugging my shirt back onto my shoulder. One by one, I watch as he buttons me back up.

We share a look and one final soft kiss before I peel myself from him. With hands on my hips, he helps me stand. Wobbly legs are my factual evidence that what just happened was real.

Water starts rushing through the pipes in the walls and we both decide Bart must be getting a shower. Now is our moment to escape. I open the closet and step out into the dark hallway, waiting as Jack replaces the laptop on the desk. We silently pad through the house and out the back door once again, locking it behind us. And when we’re back in Jack’s SUV, all I can think is that it should have been more difficult. All of it: the sneaking, the breaking and entering, the closet hiding, and then of course…the making out. I am convinced that with anyone else, it wouldn’t have worked.

But with Jack, I’m starting to realize, everything just feels right.

It’s a short drive home, and we’re both quiet during it—busy contemplating our next steps. Whatever that was back in the closet, it wasgood.And it’s not finished.

Jack pulls into his driveway, puts his SUV in park, and then turns to look at me, lit only by the moon and stars. “So…” he says.

“So…” I respond.

We’re incredible with words.

And again, my heart picks up. In the silence, we’re saying so much. I’m not ready for this night to be over, and neither is Jack. Which is why he leans in to kiss me again. I promised I could compartmentalize anything that happens in the closet, but this is very much outside the closet.

I don’t get the chance to worry any further, though, because Jack’s phone starts ringing on the console between us. The screen lights up with the caller ID:MOM.Jack looks at the time, frowns, then says, “I’m sorry—I need to take this. She never calls at night.”

“Of course,” I say, meaning it, because if anyone will be sympathetic to familial responsibility, it’s me.

“Hey, Mom,” Jack says after answering the call, and I can’t help but melt a little at how soft his voice is now. “Everything oka—”

He frowns again, deeper this time. “What did he say before he left?” Jack opens his door and gets out, closing it behind him like he wants privacy.

And I sit in the SUV for two more minutes before I remember that I have my own house next door. I climb out, register Jack’s concerned expression, and then give him a gesture that saysI’m going home. I’ll see you later.

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