Page 59 of You Wish
Still splayed across her, and buried deep inside, Jake pulled back. His hair sticking in every direction, his shirt missing the top few buttons, he looked as dazed as she felt.
With a contented sigh, Georgia turned her head, surprised to find that they were still under a Christmas tree. That the twinkling lights had been real. And that this moment between them had changed everything.
“You okay?” Jake whispered.
Georgia nodded, unsure if she had enough left in her to actually form a coherent word. And when she spoke her voice came out breathy. But she was breathy. “That was?—”
“Just the appetizer,” Jake whispered, slowly easing out of her. He helped her sit up and pressed a sweet kiss to the side of her neck.
With one last look, he discarded the condom and then came back to her. Taking her hand, he gently helped her up and led her up the windy stairs to his bed. Before her feet hit the landing she was lifted into his arms and he walked her to the bed and set her on her feet next to the bed.
She reached for the waistband of her thong and Jake caught her hand.
“Not yet. Now we take it slow, and that means I get to finally look at you. All of you.”
Georgia resisted the urge to cover herself, but his gaze was so hungry and intense as he slid her panties down her thighs, she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Not that she had time to figure it out. With an appreciative grunt, Jake peeled the sheets back.
“What are you doing?”
“Darlin’, I’ve waited years to see you like this. I’m going to take my time enjoying every inch of you. First with my hands.” He firmly cupped her butt. “Then with my mouth.” He ran his tongue over the curve of her shoulder while he settled her on the mattress.
After delivering a well-placed, well-executed kiss that spanned from her breast all the way past her belly button and lower, he straightened and stood back, his eyes raking over her body. Neither of them moved or spoke. She watched him watching her, and the raw lust in his expression emboldened her.
She pushed up on her elbow, moving so that one bra strap—whoops, how did that happen?—slid off her shoulder. “Then what?”
His eyes rose to meet hers and a slow, lethal smile curved at his lips. “Why don’t you lay back and I’ll show you.”
Georgia reached behind her with one hand and then changed her mind. If he wanted a show, she would give him one. Her eyesnever leaving him, she traced the lace trim with the tips of her fingers, slowly tugging down the fabric and letting her breasts spill over.
“I changed my mind,” Jake said, his voice thick and strained. “I want to be the one to undress you.”
Reaching behind with one arm, he pulled his shirt off. Next came his pants, underwear included, exposing a tattoo that started on his upper rib cage and ran the length of him, down to his hipbone and disappearing behind his back, where Georgia knew it stopped at the dimple above his butt. It also exposed the most incredible erection she had ever seen. She tried not to openly stare, a hard task when the man was gorgeous.
Before dropping his slacks to the floor, Jake reached into the back pocket and pulled out a strip of condoms. Holding it by two fingers he let the packet fall open, revealing a six-pack—minus one.
“Pretty cocky there.”
“It’s called confident optimism.” Tossing the condoms on the bed next to her, he covered her body with his, and she sighed at how good it felt. Their naked skin touched, sticking in the combustible air, as he pressed her hands above her head and into the mattress. “And the cocky doesn’t start until portion three of the evening.”
20
There were exactly three things Georgia knew for a fact at 6:02 in the morning:
The updo she’d worn last night was staging a rebellion.
Mascara, when left unsupervised overnight, turns into football warpaint.
And, when doing the stumble-of-shame, one should avoid sneaking into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. Especially when one might come face to face with the gray-haloed gossip grenade—Meemaw Joy.
Unfortunately for Georgia, Joy was sitting at the table, giving her a box seat view to her questionable decisions from last night, showcased by a crooked silk dress, a missing earring, and hair that now resembled something between a squirrel’s nest and a cautionary tale.
“Well, someone’s up early,” Joy said, her honey-thick drawl dripping from a Cheshire smile. “Or maybe you still have yet to get some shut-eye.”
“I had too much to drink,” Georgia said, hoping that would be the end of it.
“Makes sense.”
“How?” Georgia clutched one shoe to her chest as if that would ward off the embarrassment—that she was certain was eternal.
