Page 9 of The Charmer
She takes it, biting her bottom lip.
I ignore the looks my friends exchange and lead Jayde to the makeshift dance floor.
Wrapping my arms around her petite frame, I nearly sigh in relief. I’ve waited so damn long to hold her like this. Her arms wind around my neck and she looks up at me, her eyes thoughtful.
“You look beautiful, Jayde,” I tell her for the second time this evening. The first time, the words fell from my lips when she stepped from the bathroom into the living room area of our hotel suite.
“You clean up well too, Reese,” she responds easily but her body shifts closer to mine.
I hold her tighter, and we sway to the music, her eyes closing as she leans her cheek against my chest. “Thanks for inviting me this weekend,” she thanks me again, as if needing the reassurance that I want her here.
“Thanks for saying yes.”
We dance two songs before joining in the loud cheering that accompanies the bride and groom saying their good nights. As the laughter and cheers die down, Jayde gives me a shy look. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve seen her, and it kicks every nerve in my being to life.
I want her. I want this with her. But I don’t want to scare her off or push too hard, too fast.
Working a swallow, I extend my hand. “You ready to call it a night?”
She holds my gaze, her eyes a mixture of emotions, offeelings, I can’t read. But she takes my hand, and a bubble of relief swells up into my throat. “Okay.”
Our walk to our hotel suite is quiet. When I look over at her, she’s studying me, her expression thoughtful. I squeeze her hand and she blushes, dipping her head. Anticipation swells between us and I’m aware of each stroke of Jayde’s thumb over the back of my hand, the sound of her dress rustling in the breeze, the spike of my heart rate. The moments of earlier, the joking and playful shoves, the snorted whispers among friends and side looks, have transformed into this very real moment. I’m conscious of each step Jayde takes, every inhale of her breath, and the weight of her hand, the pressure of her fingers, against mine.
When we get to the door, she pauses. Her eyes lock on mine, heat and desire stamping out the uncertainty from the bonfire. She leans into the doorframe, a hesitantly flirtatious and achingly real smile crossing her lips.
“Are you going to kiss me, Reese?” I can’t tell if her tone is taunting or begging. Either way, it makes my blood heat and my body react.
“I want to, Jayde,” I admit, pausing to weigh my next words. “And it can be a good night kiss. Sweet. But I know once my mouth is on yours, I won’t want to stop.”
Her eyes widen at my words, and she arches slightly into my touch, but I feel it, the natural magnetism that draws her body to mine, my mouth to hers.
“Then don’t,” she voices, her tone husky.
Shit. I shift my weight, my dick already hard, my nerves coiled too tight. My palms tingle, fingers wanting to caress that smooth skin. My mouth is dry, tongue wanting to taste every inch of her.
“Do you mean that?” I question, wanting us to be on the same page. Wanting every damn thing with this amazing woman. “Because I don’t just want your body tonight, Jayde. I wantyou.”
She tips her chin up, the look in her eyes wild. Undone. “I mean it, Reese.”
As soon as I have the confirmation, I arc my mouth over hers. The second our lips touch, I groan. Because she tastes like the homecoming I never knew I needed.
And now, I don’t ever want to lose it.
FOUR
JAYDE
The naked want in Reese’s eyes is my undoing. That, and the truth in his words when he admits that he wants this—me—as much as I crave him.
His mouth on mine, a kiss that begs as much as it dares, seals the deal.
I push open the door and it swings wide, the two of us stumbling inside even though we’re far from tipsy. No, we’re stone-cold sober and desperate for each other.
The kind of desperate that makes for popped buttons and torn undergarments. The kind of needy that results in clashing teeth and dueling tongues. It’s the rough and tough recklessness I shared with my ex, the kind that allows me to get so caught up in the moment, too consumed to process thoughts, to feelthings.
But that’s not Reese’s style. He kicks the door closed behind him and grasps my wrists, tightening his hold until I meet his eyes. “We don’t have to rush, Jayde.”
I could cry right now. His eyelids have sunk to half mast, hooded and wanting. His breathing is erratic, his erection rubbing against my hip as he shifts his weight. He wants me but he wants all of me.
