Jake (6 page)

             
There’s a thin line between confidence and casualty.
Jake thought over his words—meant as cautionary advice to Ivy. He had no trouble applying the sentiment to work, and even to family, so why was it so hard for him to apply the sentiment to women? He was thirty years old and had had several meaningful relationships, a few of which he’d thought had the potential to become something more. No one was more surprised than Jake when they fizzled out. Most of the time, he’d come to realize that he had had very little in common with the woman he’d chosen to hold close. He’d moved too fast into relationships that had turned out to have no ballast.

              It was the time between ports. It always moved at warp speed, leaving scant seconds to meet, to get to know a woman, and to build a relationship that lasted.  So he jumped in like a damn paratrooper, expecting the best and treating any other outcome as nonexistent because failure wasn’t an option. And yet that’s always where they’d ended up.

              But he was stateside now for twelve months. He’d peeled through three of those already. Still, it was the longest stretch home that he’d ever had since joining the Marines at twenty-two. He’d have maneuvers to figure in, but they were never played out for more than a week at a time, and a training at Quantico coming up right after Christmas that came with a month’s commitment. But these were obstacles that they could work with.

              He and Ivy had common ground. Perhaps their experiences were different—almost certainly they were—but they had earned their emotional maturity.

              With Ivy, his plan was to move with about as much speed as a snail. Easier said than

done. He’d never gone from zero to sixty with a woman so fast. Just thinking about her made his balls ache.   

              Jake laced up his shoe and then burst into a sprint. Ivy was just getting home about now. She was ending her day and his was just beginning. He’d dealt with crazy work hours before, of course. The body adjusted. She’d probably shower, grab a bite to eat, and then fall into bed. He tried not to think about that too much. He definitely wasn’t going into his favorite game of what was she wearing. But damn, she was gorgeous. Long legs and lush breasts and eyes that met challenge, didn’t skitter away from it. She wasn’t afraid to look down the mouth of a lion. That kind of courage was developed over hot coals. It was earned, because it was tested. More than once. And so she was a little fearless and delightfully bold. Those two attributes made his blood quicken.

              It was a big draw. He suspected that kind of strength in a woman transferred to other areas of her life. Ivy was a woman who told her man what she wanted and how she wanted it. She probably wouldn’t rely solely on words, would leave out enough details that a man had to make a few discoveries on his own, and was open to exploring some uncharted territory.

              Nothing irritated Jake more than to try and figure out a woman who constantly submitted to what she thought he wanted. That kind of game always ended with both parties the losers.

              Ivy needed time to decide what she wanted from Jake—aside from the physical. There was no way she could possibly know just minutes into hello. Well, hours really, but he had no intention of rushing things. It all came back to time, and how they used it. Revelations and confidences required trust and trust grew with exposure. If he could keep his dick in his pants they had a chance.

              He rounded Hour-Glass Park, passing Marine cadets in their endurance run and college co-eds rushing onto campus. It was a perfect morning, the heat held off by a persistent breeze. In a few hours the sun will have bleached the sky to a paper white and curled the ends of the air, but right now it was as good as it gets end of August and Jake appreciated that. He decided to add a mile to his run, maybe more, let his body absorb the vitamin D and burn off the libido.

              She had a handful of cereal at the bottom of the Rice Krispies box and no milk. Ivy poured it into a bowl, anyway, and added a container of vanilla yogurt—her last—and sliced banana. She really needed to get to the grocery store. She sat in a chair next to the open window and enjoyed the cool breeze while she spooned in what amounted to her breakfast. She’d showered and was dressed in a pair of comfy cotton pajama bottoms and tank top.  She’d already set the alarm and pulled out a set of clean and pressed scrubs for her shift this afternoon. Still, she felt an electric hum just beneath the surface of her skin. Sometimes she got off shift and was too keyed up to sleep. Today, though, she suspected that Jake was the cause of her heightened senses.

              She wondered if he’d felt as turned on as her. She’d witnessed the flush of his skin, the tension in his muscles, but how easy was it for a man to let something like that go? After all, a Marine had discipline. He had control.  She had watched Jake use both on that long ride to Children’s. And it made her frown. Her thoughts about him grew talons. Oh, how she would love to break through that iron wall. Touch him and turn him into a shaking mass of need. It was no fun being in that maelstrom of passion alone. So, maybe she had affected him as powerfully as he had her. And he had taken himself in hand to ease his body’s discomfort. Ivy definitely liked that scenario better. Had he thought of her? Naked and beneath him? Or with her legs thrown over his shoulders and driving into her? She’d thought of them both ways and about a dozen other variations on flexibility and possibility.

              She left her bowl on the table and spread herself out on the bed. She thought about Jake, dick in hand, eyes closed, as he thought about her, whispered her name, his voice roughened with passion. And in her mind, she replaced his hand with her mouth. He was big and she had to spread her lips wide just to cover his head. His eyes snapped open, liquid fire. His hands wove into her hair, keeping her on her knees before him even as fought for control. She was determined. She flicked her tongue against the velvety knob, swirled it around the ridge of his helmet, sucked him deeper into her mouth and listened to the need rip through his body as he came in a torrent that was red-hot and heady.

              At some point Ivy had slipped her hand beneath her undies and found her slick folds. She had pressed her fingers to her aching clit and then, when she’d had Jake deep in her mouth, she had plunged into her body with one and then two fingers. Plunged and swirled and came in a sticky mess she imaged Jake lapping up and then sharing with her in a kiss that was soul-searing.

              She fell asleep promising herself that she would share this moment with Jake at some point. Whisper in his ear all the naughty things she’d done to him in her mind, and some of the things she longed for him to do to her.

              Jake finished his run at seven miles. He stood on the balcony at the back of his apartment and drank deeply from a bottle of water while he watched traffic pass below. His view was about as concrete jungle as you could get—a four lane street, strip mall, gas station, a stack of freeway signs and a convenience store. But it was close to base and didn’t break his budget. A few years ago he’d grown tired of barracks living and rented the place, even though he spent a good deal of time out of the country. He needed the space, the distance from everything military. A place to decompress. As an officer, he pulled in a good paycheck. He saved for
after
, whenever that would be. For the first time in a long time, though, he thought only about now.

              As in, right now Ivy was sleeping. Her skin was warm and pliant. And despite his run, his dick was at half-mast just thinking of her. Last night, he had stood in the shower and taken care of his massive hard-on. Only it was Ivy taking care of him and he had lifted her and braced her against the tiled wall and drove into her until they were both screaming with their release.

              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.