Page 78 of What's in a Kiss?

I decide not to worry that I don’t know Jake’s tastes like he knows mine. I’ll make up for lack of expertise with overwhelming zeal. Which comes naturally when I’m face-to-face with his beautiful, beautiful cock. I can’t believe he gets to keep this with him all the time. I trace my tongue around his tip, then I taste his full length, before pumping him with double fists and taking both of his balls deep in my mouth.

“You’re amazing, Olivia,” he says above me, and I sense what to do next. I take him fully in my mouth and suck firmly until he grasps my hair and pulls and lets out the sexiest groan I’ve ever heard.

“Wait,” he says and pulls away moments before I know I would have tasted him. It’s a deprivation I can’t endure for long.

“What?”

“I need to be inside you. I need you. All around me.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I say, smiling at him, “but please do.”

He mounts me, bringing the tip of his huge dick to my entrance. “I need your perfect cunt, Olivia. Can I have it, please?”

“Yes,” I whisper, and then, as he thrusts all the way inside me, my whispers turn to screams. “Yes. You can.”

My next orgasm erupts, and this time I share it with Jake. He comes with the deepest, hottest thrusts before collapsing on top of me. I lie there for a moment, in a haze of lust and magic, and everything feels new, like we’re the first people ever to make love, the first people ever to inhale.

Jake pulls me into his arms, tips my chin and kisses me. Crazy after how rough we’ve just played that he can be so tender, that he can be so kind.

“Olivia?” he asks.

I nod, gazing into his eyes.

“Do you ever think how one thing could have gone differently and we wouldn’t be in each other’s arms right now?” He shakes his head to dispel the thought. But it’s in the air between us. “Do you ever think how we might have missed all this?”

I nod, and then I kiss him so he won’t see my eyes are full of tears. I kiss him until the air is clear of the possibility that Jake and I aren’t here, right now, in every possible world.

“Room service?” he says.

“My kingdom for a Rueben,” I say as he picks up the phone.

I snuggle up beside him, listening to him place the order, feeling his gorgeous hands trace warm circles on my skin, and there’s one thing I know for sure: making love with Jake Glasswell has wrecked me for anyone else. Ever. He’s wrecked me for just about everything except more of him, in perpetuity.

I’d laugh if I weren’t so serious, if I weren’t starting to realize what this means.

I can’t leave this life. I have to stay here now, forever.

We haven’t even tied the record yet.

Chapter Nineteen

“Do you have any plans to stop being so secretive?” Jake teases the next morning as I hand him a matcha latte at the Japanese teahouse on Wilshire.

We’ve been busy today, and it’s not even noon. First there was morning sex, then room service, then after-breakfast sex, which stretched the limit of the Sunset Marquis’s checkout time. Then I told Jake there was something I had to do this morning and asked him to come along for moral support.

We take our lattes to an outdoor table. There’s a pull between us now. An alchemical shift has his fingers tracing my forearm, has my eyes on the tight strip of denim over his zipper.

Somewhere around the fifth orgasm last night, upside down in a hotel desk chair, I pledged my allegiance to the High Life. Or at least, I decided to see if I could keep what’s great about it here—my relationship with Jake—and marry it with what used to be great about my Real Life—my relationships with my mom and Masha.

It was one thing to drop in for a visit to a world where I wasn’t tight with my mom, but I refuse to live that way long term. I’ve never gone four days without talking to my mother. I’m not sure the last time I went four hours. And these have been hard, dramatic days. If I’m going to make it here, I’ve got to make up with Lorena.

We finish our lattes. Jake and Gram Parsons head for the car, but I head back inside the teahouse and get another latte for the road.

“Looks like someone really got torn up last night,” Jake says as I slide into the car.

“Someone did,” I say, “but this latte’s for my mom.”

Jake stares at me. “Did you talk to her? Did she call?”

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