Nobody But You (21 page)

“Hey,” Hud said to her. “If I can't call you my woman, then you can't call me your better half.”

“I didn't say
better
,” Bailey said.

Jacob laughed.

Hud smiled and slid his arm around Bailey. “I'll show you better. Later.”

She waggled a finger in his face, and Hud leaned forward to nip it with his teeth. With a laugh, she pushed off of him.

They had a bond, a hell of one by the looks of it. He wasn't jealous. He liked knowing his brother had found that. No, what shocked Jacob was that he wanted it too.

“You don't have to stay away,” Hud said. “There's plenty of room here at the resort for you with us, with all of us. And then you, too, can be annoyed as shit by the marrieds who seem to think they're entitled to have sex as many times a day as possible. Or have to deal with the mercurial moods of one evil Kenna Kincaid—”

“I can't,” Jacob said.

“Right, okay, yeah.” Hud's smile faded. “I get it. You're just back for…well hell, I don't even know, and then you're out again.”

“I told you I was coming back,” Jacob said, “and I mean it.”

“Then why the hell can't you stay with us, where you belong?”

Where he belonged. For a minute this struck Jacob completely dumb. He couldn't talk. He couldn't breathe. The warmth of it washed over all the cold, hard parts deep inside of him, the change so huge it actually hurt.

“Fine, fuck it,” Hud said, rising to his feet. “I've got to go—”

“I can't stay at the lodge because I bought this cabin,” Jacob said. “But it's good to know you're still a hothead.”

Hud didn't say anything. Not a single sound, and Jacob stared at the phone, trying to figure out if the call had gotten frozen. “Hud?”

“The cabin is yours?”

“Well, technically, it's the bank's,” Jacob said, trying to lighten the mood.

But Hud wasn't interested in lightening the mood. “You bought the fucking cabin. Here in Cedar Ridge. With us.”

“Yeah, well, not exactly there with you,” Jacob said. “Because a little distance from the crazy would be good, but it's only six miles, so it's close enough, right?”

For the first time in way too many years, Jacob had the pleasure of seeing Hud smile. It took him only a second to realize it was mirrored on his own face as well. And hope—something he hadn't allowed himself because it felt like a luxury—bloomed in his chest. Not trusting his voice, he didn't say a word, but he knew he didn't have to. Sensing movement, he craned his head and took in the vision in his doorway.

Sophie, in nothing but the scent of his soap and his towel.

“I've gotta go,” he said to Hud.

“I know that look,” Bailey murmured.

Hud narrowed his eyes a little and stared at Jacob like maybe he was trying to read him the same way Jacob had tried to do to him only a minute ago. Then Hud's eyebrows vanished into the hair falling across his forehead. “Looks like maybe there's something else keeping you in Cedar Ridge besides the cabin.”

“It's not what you think.”

He smiled. “Wanna bet?”

Jacob blew out a breath. “I'm disconnecting now.”

Bailey blew him a kiss.

Hud simply nodded and disconnected.

Jacob tossed his phone aside and turned to Sophie.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” she said. Then she paused and grimaced. “Okay, so I did. To be honest, I was shamelessly eavesdropping.” She hugged herself, looking so hauntingly beautiful in his towel, smelling like his soap.

Jacob had to force himself to stay seated. Because if he stood up, he was going to haul her in to him, bury himself deep, and get lost in her eyes, her smile, her voice, her body…

Nope. Not standing up.

“Jacob.” She came into the room, coming close, too damn close, not stopping until she stood between his legs.

Don't touch her. Don't—
His hands went to her hips. “Soph—”

“I've spent a lot of time letting others make me feel like the redheaded bastard stepchild,” she said, “like the easy throwaway.”

“Soph.” He shook his head and held her gaze. “You're not either of those things.”

“Not when I'm with you, I'm not.” She paused. “Do you still want me, Jacob?”

Always. He held up his forefinger and his thumb, an inch apart. “Little bit.”

She bit her lower lip.

“Or, you know, this much.” And he spread his arms as wide as he could.

She smiled. And then she dropped her towel.

S
ophie blamed Jacob's shower for her bravado. All that gloriously hot water had gone to her head—and her good parts—as she'd run Jacob's soap over herself. And then she'd used a faintly damp towel that told her the last person it had touched had been him…

By the time she'd stepped out of his bathroom, she'd been shaky with need, her heart galloping so hard that her ribs were rattling.

She'd heard the low rumble of Jacob's voice and for a crazy moment she'd wondered what would happen if she went out there and pressed herself up against his big, strong frame and begged to be held.

Touched.

Kissed.

Devoured.

Just until she felt alive again. Until she felt whole again.

She didn't have that right. Not when she'd set the boundaries.

But then Jacob had turned to face her the moment she stepped through the doorway, his expression unguarded and…and she'd needed him so much she could scarcely breathe.

When she'd admitted to eavesdropping, he'd looked amused. When she'd strode toward him with a confidence and bravado that was pure Academy Award–worthy acting, his eyes had gone molten-lava hot.

And then she'd dropped her towel.

He took her in with eyes gone dark. In just those board shorts riding low on his hips, his skin was darker than hers and stretched over enough muscle on muscle that her mouth went completely dry.

Without thinking, she straddled him, burrowing her face into his neck, taking a long, slow breath of the essence of Jacob Kincaid.

It should be bottled.

No, scratch that. She didn't want to share him with anyone. She ran a hand down over the sculpted landscape of his chest to rest over his heart, feeling the beat of it through her palm, steady. Rock steady. Her fingers stroked a little, liking the feel of his heated skin, the way his nipple hardened beneath her touch.

“Sophie.” The underlying emotion in the way he said her name took her breath. His voice was low, more than a little strained, and beneath her fingers, his heart pumped a little faster.

Not so steady now.
Don't stop me
…Leaning in, she nuzzled the soft skin just under his ear, enjoying the way his hands tightened on her. She felt him take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Please don't stop me
…

“Soph.”

“Please,” she whispered. She sank her teeth into his earlobe and then flicked her tongue over it, a full-body shudder racking her when Jacob hissed in a breath. “
Please
, Jacob.”

At her plea, he groaned as his hands slid to her bare ass, squeezing, making her stomach clench with anticipation. She lifted her face to say it again, but he cupped the back of her head and covered her mouth with his.

Had she been cold to the core only a few minutes ago? Because now heat suffused her, starting from her center and working its way out, tightening her nipples into two hard little beads, spreading southbound to rev up ground zero. Had she ever felt like this with anyone else? Never.

She'd been doing her best to resist him, but that was turning out to be like trying to hold back the tide. No matter what you did, it was going to come in. And something else was coming…a massive tidal wave of desire, trying to pull her under.

Jacob gently nudged her back so he could stand and drop his board shorts, and…sweet baby Jesus. She'd thought she had the image of his perfect, naked bod imprinted and permanently etched on her brain, but her recollection was flawed. He was even better than she remembered.

Smirking at what was probably a dumbstruck expression on her face, he hit his knees, his eyes dark and intense and locked on hers before traveling slowly down the length of her body. “Mmm,” rumbled from deep in his throat as his hands glided up the backs of her thighs. “Pretty.”

She felt such a rush she shuddered. Catching it, he smiled a very badass smile, cupped her ass in his hands, leaned in, and put his mouth on her.

Her head fell back and her mouth opened because she needed it that way just to breathe. She felt him smile against her as he worked his magic with his very talented, ingenious tongue and diabolical fingers.

In shockingly little time he had her on the edge, two fistfuls of his hair in her hands, panting for breath while simultaneously begging him to “pleasedon'tstop, pleasedon'tstop, pleasedon'tstop…”

He didn't. Of course he didn't. Because Jacob was a man of his word, as she was learning. Or in this case, a man of his tongue.

And, oh God, that tongue.

When she came, hard, her legs buckled, but Jacob caught her, bringing her straight down onto him, sheathing himself deep within her.

She immediately came again, completely out of control and unable to do anything but hold on for the ride. When she could unclench her toes, she opened her eyes and realized he hadn't moved. His blazing-hot gaze held hers.

“Condom,” he grounded out, his entire body strained, strung tight as a bow.

Good God, for the first time in…well, forever, she hadn't given a single thought to her own protection—or his. She hadn't thought at all. “I'm on the pill,” she whispered. “And I'm…safe. I had myself checked.” She'd done so right after finding out about Lucas's extramarital activities and then again more recently to be doubly sure.

Jacob banded his arms around her tight and kissed her. “Before I met you, I hadn't been with anyone in two years.”

She gaped at him.
Two years?
Cupping his face, she leaned in and kissed him softly. And then not so softly, getting a feminine rush when his breathing hitched. Letting her hands drift over every part of him that she could reach, she reveled in the low groan she wrenched from him and began to move.

He assisted, his hands at her hips, gaze locked on hers, holding her prisoner. A willing prisoner.

They ended up on the floor. Then against the door. And then last but not least in the shower, leaving her to wonder if he was even human.

By then it was dark and past her bedtime. She was rag-doll floppy, sated beyond her greatest imagination and making contented, purring noises that she couldn't seem to control.

This left Jacob to towel her off from their shower, as she was unable to lift a finger to help him. But she did manage to lift a finger—all of them, in fact—to touch him, trailing her fingertips across his chest and abs, which contracted at her touch.

When his body rose to the challenge, she had to laugh. “Aren't you tired?”

He smiled, but his gaze remained focused on the towel he had covered her with and was now slowly sliding from her. “Never too tired for this.”

A soft moan escaped her when he bent his head and let his mouth follow the trail of the towel. She might have whimpered as she found a secret stash of energy in reserve…

Much, much later she found herself curled up in his bed, his arms wrapped around her. His lips were warm and soft against hers, and unlike their kisses earlier, this one was unhurried.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“I need sleep for tomorrow…” She looked at his clock. It was two thirty. “…Today,” she murmured drowsily. “The on-site boss is rumored to be a real hard-ass. If I go to sleep right now, I could still get six hours before any Wounded Warriors show up.”

“You know what would be even better?” he asked, voice all bedroom husky.

“Let me guess,” she said. “
Five
hours?”

He smiled. “I like the way you think.” And then he rolled them, tucking her beneath him.

Or four, she thought. She could definitely make do with four…

Jacob woke up the next morning to the deafening roar of Sophie thinking too hard. She had her head on his shoulder, an arm and a leg thrown over him, holding him to the mattress, and if he wasn't mistaken, she'd drooled in the crook of his neck. The thought made him start to smile, but it vanished when he realized that she was slowly inching away from him.

Once again trying to sneak out of his bed.

She was a horrible sneak. She had her hair in his face and nearly unmanned him with her knee, but because he was amused at her utter lack of skill, he let her get to the edge of the mattress before he said her name.

She fell out of the bed.

She immediately leapt back up and whirled, clearly looking for something to cover herself. He caught her expression, so utterly anxious, it quelled his amusement.

“I'm sorry,” she gasped. “Did I wake you?”

Pushing the fury at Lucas down deep for now, he rolled out of the bed and came slowly toward her. Halfway there, he scooped his T-shirt off the floor and gently dropped it over her head, smiling at her when her face peeked out and the hem fell to mid-thigh.

Having her here with him like this made his heart beat faster, made him feel worth something, and he enjoyed every second he spent with her, even when they were bickering. Maybe especially when they were bickering. They had something here between them, something good. And he was pretty sure he could prove it to her. But if she needed to hide behind the sex until she felt safe, until she realized that he would never hurt her, that was fine. And damn if he wouldn't make sure she enjoyed herself in the meantime, because even though he had the patience of a saint, he most definitely wasn't one.

Her hair was wild and crazy, and he stroked the beautiful mess back from her face and bent to kiss her.

She put a hand between their mouths. “I haven't brushed my teeth!”

“Me either,” he said, not retreating but instead smiling into her adorably worried face. Then he stayed right where he was, their mouths a fraction of an inch from each other, separated only by her hand, waiting, letting her make both the decision and the move.

She blinked once, slow as an owl, and then slowly lowered her hand.

Taking the invitation, he gave her a short, sweet kiss. “Morning,” he said huskily, and then grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking hot in only his shirt and bedhead hair.

“Making you breakfast, which is what you missed out on when you played possum and then sneaked out the last time you spent the night.”

“I didn't sneak.”

He gave her a knowing look, and she had the grace to blush. “Well, if I'd known breakfast was on the itinerary…,” she muttered.

In the kitchen, he lifted her to sit on the counter and started pulling stuff out of his fridge.

She watched with avid interest. “So you
can
cook?”

“Bacon and eggs,” he said. “But my ability is born out of hunger, not raw talent.”

She watched him start the bacon and then crack eggs into a bowl one-handed and gave a wolf whistle of appreciation.

He grinned at her. “Guess I do have a talent.”

“More than one,” she quipped, making him laugh. She'd recovered and was back to her usual sunny self, which he was beginning to get was just her invisibility cloak.

“So…today,” she said. “And Wounded Warriors. I'm working beneath you.”

He liked the sound of that. A lot. And at whatever she saw on his face, she rolled her eyes. “Don't go getting any ideas,” she said. “No bossing me around.”

“On the job? Never,” he said, turning the bacon and then flipping the eggs in the pan with a flick of his wrist.

“
Or
in the bedroom,” she clarified.

“I promise you'd like it.”

She blushed, and he laughed softly. “I'll show you sometime if you ask real nice.”

She snorted. “Like that's going to happen.”

He shifted from the stovetop to between her legs, bending his head to meet her gaze head-on. “Your pace,” he said softly.

“We've tried that,” she reminded him.

“We'll try harder,” he said, and kissed her.

Not softly.

When they broke apart for air, she stared at him. “I thought you said my pace.”

“It is.” He grinned. “But I never said I wasn't going to stake my claim or try to coax things to go my way.” He moved back to the stove and flipped the bacon and eggs onto two plates. He handed her one of them and then went to the cabinet for two glasses, which he filled with orange juice. “How about a new game?” he said.

“Aren't you tired of games?”

“Humor me. This time we'll just tell a truth.”

She regarded him warily. “That doesn't sound like a game at all.”

He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Now you're getting it.”

She narrowed her eyes as she considered this, along with the ramifications. He could read each and every thought as it crossed her face. Curiosity. Worry, because if this wasn't a game, it meant he was serious.

Which he was.

Finally, she sighed. “What do you want to know?”

He was a smart enough guy to get that she was the one for him. He was also smart enough to know that he was going to have to work his ass off for it. Because she wasn't open to this. To them.

To him.

He was shocked by how much he wanted to change her mind. “You're not scared of me,” he said, wanting to hear her say it.

“No,” she said. “I'm not scared of you. But that wasn't a question.”

“I want to know what you
are
scared of.”

She held his gaze. “Me.”

“Why?” he asked.

She stared at him. “I think I want to go first and ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

She opened her mouth and went for the jugular. “You ever been in love?”