I’ve just spilled my guts to him, and all he can do is mock me.
But it annoys me that he makes a good point.
Before I can move away, he grabs me and pulls me closer.
I resist, but it’s futile. The next thing I know, he pulls me into his lap, just like he did in the bar a couple of hours ago. It feels as if we’ve known each other much longer than that, the way he holds me to him like I already belong to him.
“Let me go,” I demand, but he glares at me.
“I can help,” he says.
“I don’t need your help,” I snarl at him.
“Oh?” Jake grabs both my wrists with one hand, his other coming up to my face and gently rubbing my mouth. I part my lips, a sigh escaping. I can feel his rock-hard abs beneath me.
Damn, he feels good.
“I think you do,” Jake says, his finger trailing down my chin and throat before coming to rest on my collarbone. My breathing is ragged now, hoping he’ll do more, but at the same time praying he won’t.
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