Jake (California Dreamy) Read online

  He wondered if her nipples were a deep tan or a dusty rose. If the curls at her sex were tinted with the same red in her hair. If her mouth would really be as hot and tight around his cock as he imagined. And if he’d ever find out.

  He broke off a curse and tossed his empty bottle into the recycle bin. What the hell was wrong with him? Thinking about Ivy like this was completely masochistic behavior. It was like asking for a whipping and then begging for it to stop.

  And he had no doubt she could move him there—to a point where he would beg to get between her legs. He’d bet his next pay she tasted like nirvana.

  His dick surged to its full glory just thinking about her on his tongue and he cupped his palm against the rigid flesh, knowing he was his only source of relief at this point.

  He could not show up for their date tomorrow night hard and horny. It would be a week before he even got close to sliding into her. Maybe longer. He groaned with the thought. Two weeks would be better. For longevity. To lay a foundation. All that good stuff his rational mind kept throwing up as necessities for a lasting relationship. Too bad his brain couldn’t keep his dick in line.

  He strode into the apartment and straight for the shower. He flipped on the cold, hoping the shock to his heated body would improve his condition. He soaped up and ignored the pulse that beat at the base of his cock, at his temples, in time with his heart. Nope, no change. He took himself in hand and tried to see what Ivy would see. He was a big man. Maybe a little intimidating to a woman as small as Ivy. Would she hesitate? Saw at that bottom lip of hers while she considered how much give would be required of her body?

  He stroked down his length and shook his head. No. Ivy had that fearless thing going. And he would pleasure her first, ease any worries that could arise at the sight of him fully aroused. He would bring her to climax again and again and by the time he was inside her she would be primed and ready. He moved his hand faster, thinking now of how incredibly tight and hot she would be. Ivy was a doer, he reminded himself. She would be moving against him, gripping his cock with her sex, milking him, and he would gladly give. She would accept nothing less. He already knew that about her. Jake pumped one more time and came in a shattering of control that left him weak-kneed and not a little worried about what really being inside Ivy would do to him. She was an incredible mix of sexy and would demand his all. But could Jake give it to her?

  Chapter Six

  “Your Sea Biscuit is here.”

  Ivy was sitting on a bench in the staff locker room, bent over her shoe. They were beginning to show wear, with the sole under her big toe taking the biggest hit. Ivy ran on her toes, not the best form for long distances, but it was her natural stride and she wasn’t doing it to win any competitions. She reminded herself of this last bit, as again an image rolled out in front of her eyes—the faded boardwalk beneath their feet, the Pacific Ocean rolling softly up the golden sand to the west of them, and Ivy streaking past a sweaty and huffing Jake.

  He was in good shape. He was stronger than she was. He ran all the time—it’s what Marines did. He would have no trouble keeping up. Still, she felt a keen want to be one up on this.

  And that’s not the only want she’d been feeling since her roadside rescue. That steamy conversation in his truck had primed her. She’d walked around the past two days imagining everything from their next kiss to the moment when he sank into her, and working herself into a hot mess. She’d decided that maybe Jake was a fling. She’d never had one. She knew from reading women’s magazines that an affair almost always came on fast and with a consuming heat and that definitely characterized her and Jake. Ivy wasn’t opposed to a little sex with a man she trusted.

  The thought made her smile as anticipation slid through her. She finished tying her shoe and looked up at Genny.

  “Sea Biscuit?”

  “Your one in a million,” she explained and nodded at Ivy’s attire. “Your first date is a run?”

  “Our first date was Sunday.”

  Maybe not technically speaking, but they had spent a few hours together and they had definitely gotten to know each other. She stood and smoothed her hands over her skimpy running shorts--gray with white mesh at the hips and citron piping. She matched it up with a ‘second skin’ top with built in bra the same neon green color. The outfit was appropriate for a run, but left little to the imagination. She looked good, and she hoped it would trip him up.

  “When I go jogging,” Genny said, “I put on a pair of old sweats that are baggy in the ass and a t-shirt that screams rag bag.”

  “You’re married,” Ivy pointed out, though she didn’t think the woman ever dressed shabby. She always looked put-together on the floor. “You have three kids.”

  “And the waistline to prove it. Don’t think I wouldn’t squeeze myself into something like that if I wouldn’t look like a sausage link.” Genny looked her over one more time. “You’re going to kill him out there.”

  Ivy smiled with delicious anticipation. “That’s my plan.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him.” But Genny was smiling. “Ah, romance. I remember it well.”

  Ivy picked up her canvas bag and her purse and followed Genny onto the floor. Jake was waiting at the nurse’s desk and he wasn’t alone. He’d captured the attention of a small knot of nurses. They were doing most of the talking and Jake was listening attentively. It gave Ivy a moment to study him unnoticed.

  Her body flushed with heat. With awareness. Exactly as it had happened Sunday. She felt heat pool at her pulse points as she allowed her eyes to consume him. He had a strong profile, with a Roman nose and a firm chin covered now with a thick five o’clock shadow. She liked it on him. It gave him a rough edge. His shoulders were as broad as she remembered, the t-shirt he wore stretched so that it defined the muscles beneath. She followed it over his chest, to his narrow waist and the blue shorts he wore that were modest compared to Ivy’s choice. But they did give her a peek at his thighs. Strong, sculpted, a dusting of fine golden hair. Military men trained. A lot. And Ivy realized how thankful she was for PT.

  Last night she had floated off to sleep thinking about their physical differences. His cheeks had been slightly abrasive and had rubbed against her face when he had kissed her on Sunday. It had sent a delicious tremor through her body. But in her imaginations, she had gone deeper, fantasizing about the strength of his arms, holding her a willing captive, the friction of his legs as he slid between hers. The hard length of him pushing against her sex, sliding smoothly into her need.

  Her lips parted as her breath became shallow. She felt her nipples bead. Damn. She looked up and got tangled in his gaze. His face was tense, his skin slightly flushed.

  He’d caught her undressing him. And wouldn’t you know it—her new-found sexual assertiveness had her smiling brazenly into his discomfort. His eyes flared slightly. His chest lifted as he drew in a deep breath. He hadn’t expected her reaction, but he liked it. She could tell.

  She watched him excuse himself from his groupies—interrupting one of the nurse’s in full-speech—and advance toward her. His legs were long, powerful. His shoulders taut with muscle. He stopped with only inches between them, clearly a stake in her personal space. His voice was a low, thick bass when he tipped his head toward hers and asked,

  “Ready?’

  “Since Sunday,” she deliberately misinterpreted him. Or maybe not.

  “Hell yes,” he said and took her hand in his. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She stepped into stride and allowed him to steer her toward the elevators. His hand was much bigger than her own and calloused, but he held her gently. His warmth rolled off him, settled on her. His scent, a clean pine wrapped with his own natural spice, was like a drug. Breathing him in, she felt her body soften, continue a melting that was in a whole other league than anything her imagination dreamed up.

  As they waited for the doors to slide open, Jake shifted their hands so that their fingers entwined, his rough edges sliding between h
er sensitive flesh. The simple act caused a shiver to rock her.

  Jake shifted so that his hip brushed against hers.

  “Steady,” he said, but she didn’t know if he was talking to her or reminding himself.

  “Not so easy,” Ivy said.

  “Definitely not easy.” The doors opened and Jake pulled her into the car beside him. “Didn’t help, you peeling off my clothes back there.”

  The elevator was empty and so Ivy was a little more daring than she’d have been. She used her free hand to steal a feel of his hard body. Her palm settled just above the waistband of his shorts and she felt his abs contract, heard the breath woosh out of him. She smiled, liking that she could push him to the edge as fast as he did her.

  “Didn’t it?” she challenged and moved her hand so that her palm dragged upwards, over his rib cage. “Because it certainly did something for me.”

  He laid his hand over hers. “It did plenty for me, too,” he promised her as the doors closed. “And so there’s no misunderstanding about this—“ He moved their hands so that she felt the soft cotton of his shirt give way to the silkier material of his shorts. He stopped when she was cupping the hard length of him in her palm. “This is what you do to me. You only have to look at me and I’m hot and hard.”

  His words caused a tremor between her thighs. She heard her breath leave her lips on a soft whimper and her hand contracted around his erection. He was long, thick, engorged. She watched his eyes hood, felt his hips shift as he pressed himself more firmly into her hand.

  “Is it always like this?” she wondered. She had only her ex and one other experience to go by. Neither had been so intense, so immediate.

  “You don’t know?”

  His voice was hoarse, strained, and he eased their hands away from his shaft.

  Ivy felt her face color, and this time it was from embarrassment. The truth was, she had very little experience to draw on. But she was willing to change that. She looked into Jake’s face and discovered a battle there as he fought for control.

  “I know I’ve never felt like this before. It’s never been this…hot.”

  “No, never,” he agreed. “Not for me, either.” He dropped her hand and retreated a step. “And that’s why we’re going to be good.”

  He adjusted his shorts, grimacing, and pulled the hem of his t-shirt lower to mask the reason for his discomfort.

  “Good?” She didn’t like the sound of that, unless he was referring to how good they were going to be together. “You mean, so good we’re going to burn up the sheets?”

  “Eventually.”

  “We’re back to the freight train,” she realized.

  He nodded.

  “Why?”

  “For once, I’d like to take my time,” he said, after a moment of thought. “And I have the time to take. It’s never been that way before.”

  “You’re not shipping out anytime soon?”

  “That’s Navy,” he corrected. “But no, I’m not deploying. Not until next summer. I have commitments that will take me out of town for a little while, but nothing major.”

  “And so you want to take your time,” she repeated.

  “To see what we have here,” he confirmed.

  “I thought we’d have a fling,” she blurted. “I mean, it seems to me that’s what we’re all about.”

  “How can we be about sex if we haven’t had it yet?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. The word is intense. But we could have more than that.” He ran a fingertip across her lips and her breath shuddered out.

  “Why do you think so?”

  “There are other things I like about you, Ivy.” He brought his arms up and placed his hands on the wall of the elevator, framing her head. He tipped his face so that his breath swept across her mouth. “You’re strong. You care about others.” He traced a finger along the scalloped edge of her runner’s top and settled it above her heart. “And you have a sense of humor keeps me on my toes.”

  He kissed her, just a brief touch of his lips, a stroke of his tongue she didn’t have a chance to reciprocate before he pulled back.

  “Since we’ve been so good about communicating and setting up boundaries, I wanted to make this clear. I want more from you than sex.”

  “What more?” she asked.

  “Let’s start with a few dates,” he suggested, “and see what we’re building toward.”

  “A few platonic dates?”

  “Platonic? No. That would be impossible. But I think we should agree—no closing the deal until we’ve shared a few meals and a little more about our lives.”

  She thought about that, her lips twisting into a kissable purse. “What if I don’t agree?’

  “It’d be easier if you did,” he pointed out. “But if you’d like to try taking advantage of me, I’m open to it.”

  He stepped back as the elevator doors opened and reached for her hand. She liked the simple act. The confidence in it, but also the warmth of his touch, the slight abrasion of his rougher skin. It was a simple gesture that Ivy hadn’t enjoyed in too long. It loosened a river of emotion in her chest. It belied a closeness they were only just establishing, but that felt right. It was something she wanted. Had wanted for a long time, but refused to focus on.

  Men weren’t her specialty. In fact, her record in the relationship department was a sad 0-2. But she had to catch a break some time. Statistics were on her side. Right?

  He guided them through the corridors, weaving around gurneys and strollers, and small knots of people until they slipped out the front doors. Across the street, the parking garage loomed and triggered Ivy’s memory.

  “You paid for my new tires,” she said and rummaged through her purse for the bill and the cash she had folded into it. “I’m paying you back for that.”

  He nodded. “This time,” he said. “So there are no confusing signals.” He accepted the

  cash and stuffed it into a pocket.

  “You’re really good at helping,” she pointed out. “Or are you that thorough at everything?” She loaded her voice so that the double meaning was unmistakable.

  “You’re determined to challenge my good intentions,” he observed, but played along, “I apply myself. I never quit. And I seldom disappoint.” It sounded like a creed and she wondered how long he’d lived by those principals. “I like to see a job to its finish. I’m totally into results and don’t mind putting in the work when I know the pay off’s going to be phenomenal.” He let his gaze fall to her face. “With us, it’s going to throw the earth off its axis.”

  “Confidence,” she replied. He had a lot of it. It was in the way his body moved forward, his shoulders leading into the next moment. It was in the deep, steady timber of his voice. He had enough going on that his words were more than that—they were promises. “You definitely don’t lack that.”

  “No,” he agreed. “Not in a long while.” They waited at the crosswalk, as the pedestrian lights began to flash and the cars slowed. “But I wasn’t always so good at helping,” he confided.

  “You want to tell me about that?” They may as well start the unveiling of their lives.

  “I was a menace to society,” he confessed, but a smile softened his mouth. “I suppose I wasn’t too bad. Some tagging when I was fifteen. Street racing at sixteen. I wrapped my car around a tree and luckily the only person I hurt was myself.” He tugged lightly on her hand and started them across the street. “I was smart enough to know I was spinning out of control and had just enough humility to accept help when it was offered.

  “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” he countered.

  Her lips twisted as she thought about that. “I have two,” she revealed. “They’re connected so maybe it’s just one big mess.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You going to share?”

  “I think you should get to know me better. See that I’ve grown up a little. Matured.”

  “You know all about my m
istaken youth,” he chided. “Anyway, the more we share the closer we’ll become.” He waggled his eyebrows and his smile was full of his taunt.

  “Now you’re playing on my weakness.”

  “Is that what I am for you?”

  She nodded. “Right now.” The potential for him to become something more—hugely more—was frightening, but persistent.

  “You won’t scare me off, Ivy,” he promised. “We’ve learned from our mistakes.”

  She had. In a big way.

  “My biggest mistake was becoming engaged at sixteen, married at eighteen.”

  “Sounds like you were trying to run away from something.”

  “Or someone,” Ivy said. “I think I was trying so hard to rise above my circumstances…to not become my mother…to not become stuck in that life…that marriage became my only way out. Or so I thought.” And she’d wanted someone to love her. She’d had Holly, of course, but she’d needed more than that. “I was looking for someone else to make me feel like I had value. That was a big mistake.” And not something that ever worked. “I paid for it and it taught me a lot. I grew up. I went to college. I became my own woman. Somewhere along the way I realized we all have value, just by virtue of being human beings. That we have all hurt and hurt others, that we’re this collective mass moving towards the same thing—to love and be loved—and that our many paths give us individuality but also familiarity. Kinship.” She realized she was speaking of things she never had before. They were the thoughts that kept her going, that improved her understanding of herself and others, that lit her compassion and made her approach life—hers and others—with a gentleness she wasn’t capable of even four years ago. She felt her face heat and she shrugged her discomfort.

  “I bet you didn’t know I was a closet philosopher,” she said.

  He tugged on her hand to stop them and turned her so that they stood toe to toe on the sidewalk. “You put into words things I’ve been thinking for a long time. Our experiences shape us but are also our connect points.”