“Addie, thanks for the heads-up, but I want you out of my kitchen too. We are swamped tonight and I have to concentrate.”
I nod. “Fair enough.”
When I return to the dining room, the customers are laughing at something Jake said. His gaze finds mine.
“So, as I was saying,” he says into the mic, watching me with that panty-dropping smile. “There is this special woman in my life right now and I’d like to sing a song that tells her exactly how I feel about her.”
I stop near the back of the room and raise a brow.
This should be good.
Instead of a slow ballad, he breaks out into a fast, upbeat song. I recognize it. One of my favorite artists, Matt Nathanson, sings it. The song is supersexy, all about how much he wants her.
And Jake’s voice makes it nothing but pure, unadulterated sin.
Jesus, I want to rush the stage and climb him. Right here, right now.
I can’t help but tap my toe with the music and smile at the blatantly sexual lyrics. It’s such a fun song.
The rest of the evening flies by. Jake’s set goes perfectly, and the customers are happy.
When he’s done singing, he puts his guitar in its case, then crosses to me and takes my hand, raises it to his lips to press a kiss to my palm, then, with his eyes pinned to mine, drags his teeth down to the sensitive skin on my wrist and nibbles. The straggling customers are watching so I lead him back to the office and close the door.
“I taste like sunlight, do I?” I ask, quoting the song.
“And strawberry bubble gum,” he replies with a cocky smile. This is the rock star side of him. He’s confident and maybe a little arrogant, and damn if it isn’t sexy.
“If I invite you back to my place, are you gonna kiss me and leave me by my door again?”
Because if you are, you can forget it, buddy. I know he didn’t mean it to be, but it was humiliating.
“I don’t know. Have you earned anything more than that?”
Now it’s my turn to offer him a cocky grin. Have I earned it? I don’t even try to answer that question. Instead I turn and head for the door, pulling my hair over my shoulder so my back is on display.
I hear him suck in a deep breath, and then he lets out a long, low groan.
Yes, this shirt is awesome.
Before I can open the door, I’m spun around and pinned to it, and Jake’s mouth is on mine. Hot, hard, demanding. He grips my ass in his hands and boosts me up, propping me against the door and simply devouring me.
“I want you,” he whispers against my lips. “I’ve been fighting to take this slow, Addison, but I’m a son of a bitch, and I want you.”
“I’m right here.”
“No.” He backs away, helping me to the floor, shaking his head, swallowing hard. He starts to say something, but has to swallow again, his neck muscles working and his hands clenched in fists. “This isn’t happening here, against the door of your office. I need to get you home so I can take my time with you.”
I blink at him, trying to gather my wits.
“Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me into the bar. “I’m taking Addie home.”
“I have to close up—” I begin, but Kat simply smiles at Jake and nods.
“We have this handled,” she replies. “Have a good night.”
“Thanks.” Jake waves, leads me back into the dining room to grab his guitar, then practically pulls me outside to his car.
“I have a car here too,” I remind him.
“I’ll bring you back here in the morning to get it.”
I frown. “I didn’t say you could stay the night.”
He shoves his guitar into the backseat, then turns to me and pulls me into his arms, hugging me close. He buries his face in my hair and takes a deep breath.
“I need to be with you tonight. The whole night,” he whispers. “Let me stay.”
How can I refuse him? I don’t want to refuse him. I’ve been hot for him for a long, long time.
I pull out of his embrace, and his shoulders sag in defeat.
“I understand,” he says.
Before he can turn away, I grab his hand and kiss his palm the way he did mine earlier. “Will you come home with me?”
His gaze whips up to mine. “If I do, I’m not leaving you until morning.”
I kiss his palm again, then nod. “I’d like for you to stay.”
He inhales sharply before leading me to the passenger side of his car. The ride to my place is quiet, the sexual tension hanging thick around us. Now I’m getting nervous. Having sex on the spur of the moment is one thing, but when it’s premeditated, well . . . that’s daunting.
I haven’t showered since this morning and I’ve been working all day. I can’t smell great. What if he wants to go downtown? Oh God, maybe I should tell him to wait for me while I shower.
And reshave my legs, because I shaved them yesterday and I was too lazy to do it this morning.
Maybe this is a bad idea.
“Stop it,” he mutters and kisses my hand.
“Stop what?”
“Overthinking.”
I frown at him. “Are you a mind reader?”
“I don’t have to be, sweetness. You’re thinking so hard over there, there’s practically smoke coming out of your ears.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I reply primly. “And being a thinker isn’t a bad thing.”
“No, it’s not. Except when you start second-guessing yourself, and you have no reason to.”