Chapter 144: Jake
She stands right in front of me, her back brushing the table, our faces leveled.
She’s so close I can see the freckles across her collarbone, the way the light catches the curl of her hair, still a little wild from her sleep. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes—God, those green eyes—are darting between mine like she’s deciding whether to stay or bolt.
And I can’t even breathe.
Because I’ve wanted her like this for weeks.
Right here.
Right in front of me.
I drag my gaze slowly down—her throat, the hollow at its base, the sweater that hides nothing of the shape beneath it. Every part of her looks soft, touchable, breakable.
When I finally meet her eyes again, she looks nervous, uncertain, and it almost undoes me.
I rest my hands on her hips. Just the weight of them makes her shiver.
“Jake…” she whispers.
“Hm?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“I know,” I murmur, my thumbs drawing lazy circles just over the fabric of her jeans.
“Maybe you won’t like it.”
“I know.”
She lets out a shaky laugh that dies quickly. “Yesterday… Reid kissed me.”
I nod. “I know.”
Her head snaps up. “You know?”
I hum in answer. “Yes.”
She starts talking fast, her words tumbling over one another. “I didn’t want to hide it or make things weird or create a rift between you and him, I just—Jake, I really like you, and this is confusing, and—”
That’s when I pull her closer.
My hands slide from her hips to her waist, and in one slow motion, I guide her down onto my lap. She gasps, hands flying to my shoulders, and before she can think, her legs settle around me—straddling me.
“It’s confusing, huh?” I say quietly.
She nods, breathless, her hands still clutching my shirt.
I lean in, close enough for her to feel my words against her skin. “What about this?” My fingers trace her side, grazing under the edge of her sweater. “Still confusing?”
She exhales hard, the sound trembling between us.
I push her hair behind her ear, the pads of my fingers brushing the edge of her jaw. “Or that?”
Her voice catches. “Jake…”
I tilt my head, my nose brushing hers. “You’re not mad I kissed Reid?” she asks, her voice barely there.
I shake my head, slow. “No.” I look at her, steady. “And Reid won’t be mad about this either.”
She blinks, confused. “How do you know that?”
My hand slides to the back of her neck, thumb resting at the base of her hairline. “Because we both can’t stay away from you. You drive us insane, Madeline. I can’t stand not touching you. If I can't stay away from you, then I don’t know how he could.”
Her lips part, a little sound escaping her.
I lower my voice to a whisper. “Now, I want to do a lot of things to you, but I need you to tell me it’s okay.”
She swallows, hard, eyes searching mine.
I trail my hands up her sides, slow, feeling her tremble under my touch. “This okay?”
She nods.
I press my hand against the small of her back and pull her a little closer, her body molding to mine, letting her feel exactly what she's doing to me. “What about this?”
Her eyes close, her hands fisting my shirt tighter. But no answer.
“Trouble,” I murmur, my breath warm against her mouth, “I need you to tell me it’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay,” she whispers.
“Good. Look at me,” I say, voice rough.
She does. And that’s it. That’s the breaking point.
Her eyes are wide and glassy, her lips parted, her breath coming quick. I cup her cheek with one hand, thumb running along her delicate neck.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
I tilt her chin and kiss her—soft at first, testing. I taste her breath, her hesitation, the warmth of her lips. Then I pull back, just enough to see her reaction.
But she chases me, hungry little thing.
She leans in, kissing me again, deeper this time, desperate. That’s all the permission I need.
My hand slides up to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, keeping her right where I want her. The other hand holds her hip steady as I kiss her harder, slower, deeper. She exhales into my mouth, and the sound nearly destroys me.
Every move of her lips, every soft gasp, every time her fingers clutch at my shirt—she’s giving me more than I thought she would.
She tastes like something I’ve been starving for.
Like vanilla and sweetness and something that feels like complete surrender.
I pull back for half a second, resting my forehead against hers, our breaths tangled. Her eyes are half-lidded, lips red and swollen, and when she smiles at me, I can’t help but kiss her again—slower this time, reverent, like I’m trying to memorize the shape of her mouth.
I don’t know how long we stay like that.
Her mouth against mine, her fingers tangled in my shirt, her breathing shallow and fast against my throat.
Time stops meaning anything; it’s just the rhythm of her breath, the soft drag of her lips, the way every nerve in my body is tuned to the sound of her heartbeat against me.
But I know the exact second we’re not alone anymore.
Even before I hear a sound, I feel it — that familiar shift in the air, the faint scrape of boots against the floor. There’s only one person whose presence feels that heavy and controlled.
Reid.
Madeline’s eyes are still closed, lost in it.
But I open mine and pull back, slow. Her lips chase the movement, and she lets out a tiny groan of protest that goes straight through me. I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my mouth.
“Hey,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her jaw, “you might want to open your eyes.”
Her lashes flutter, confused, until she follows the tilt of my chin.
Reid’s leaning against the table a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable except for the faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He looks every bit the devil he is — calm, dark, and entirely too amused.