Page 94 of The Jack*ss in Class

I unlocked the door, both of us practically falling inside as a gust of wind pushed at our backs. The interior was simple. A small bathroom, a chair in the corner, and a tiny table with a battery-powered lantern, and a little gift basket with a bottle of wine and some fruit and nuts.

And one bed.

One, barely bigger than my ass, bed.

“Home sweet home,” I said, trying for levity as we stood dripping on the worn carpet.

Tempest’s breath came out in a shaky laugh. “Could be worse.”

As if on cue, the lights flickered, dimmed, and then went out entirely, leaving us in darkness broken only by occasional flashes of lightning through the curtained window.

“You were saying?” I murmured, fumbling for the lantern.

In the soft glow that followed, I could see Tempest’s dress clinging to her curves, her hair plastered to herneck, her arms wrapped around herself as another shiver wracked her body.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” I said, my voice rougher than I’d intended. “You’re freezing.”

“So do you,” she countered, though her teeth were still chattering.

We stood frozen for a moment, the implication of our situation suddenly, acutely clear. One room. One bed. No dry clothes. And a long night ahead of us.

A particularly bright flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed almost instantly by a deafening crack of thunder that seemed to shake the small cabin. The storm was directly overhead now, wild and untamed, isolating us in our temporary shelter.

“Flynn?” Tempest’s voice was small, vulnerable in a way I’d never heard before.

“Yeah?”

Her hair tumbled in damp waves around her face, and her eyes, when they met mine, held a mixture of trust and something deeper, more primal, that made my breath catch.

“Know any ways to get warm in a hurry?”

Did I ever.

MAKE ME TREMBLE

TEMPEST

“Tempest.” Just my name, but the way he said it made my skin tingle. “I want you so fucking bad, but I want you to be sure you want to do this.”

I wasn’t sure of anything except that I wanted him, this connection, this moment, wanted to feel his skin against mine. I nodded. “I’m sure. I want to be with you. I want you.”

He moved toward me slowly, like I was something precious that might spook. He stroked his knuckles down my cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. “I’m going to keep checking in with you every step of the way, and you tell me yes or no, or to stop, or even please, more. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl. Now I’m going to kiss you until you go weak in the knees.”

Ooph. He didn’t even have to actually kiss me, I was already feeling a bit wobbly. Good girl? Was he kidding me with the words straight out of the pages of my dirtiestscenes?

But he didn’t kiss me, he simply stared down at me with those dark and sparkling eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” The words were barely a whisper, and I wasn’t even sure that was my voice breaking the silence.

“For you to tell me yes or no.”

Oh. Holy cojónes. Why was the way he was asking for my consent so freaking hot? “Kiss me, please, kiss me.”

“That’s my girl.” His lips met mine, soft and warm and perfect. Unlike our beach kiss, this one started slow, unhurried. His mouth moved against mine with exquisite care, as if he had all the time in the world to learn what made me sigh, what made me melt.

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