The Lake House Had One Bed Left for Our Parents' Wedding Week, So I Shared It With My Soon-to-Be Stepbrother novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Nobody Can Knock

The cabin door shut behind us with a click, and I was against it before I could breathe.

Jack's mouth came down on mine.

It was ten at night, a camp lantern burned on the nailed-up shelf by the window.

The whole room smelled like pine, old fishing line and lake wind.

I locked my arms around his neck.

He lifted me clean off the floor, and my legs wrapped his waist.

He carried me three steps to a double bed with a quilt on it and laid me down.

"Nobody can knock," he said.

"Nobody."

"I can be as slow as I want."

"You'd better be."

He knelt over me and took his time.

He undid the buttons of my shirt one at a time and kissed the skin under each one.

He pushed the shirt off my shoulders.

He kissed my collarbone and the hollow of my throat and the curve of each breast.

He drew my nipple into his mouth, slowly, and sucked until I arched and said his name.

"I love the sounds you make," he said against my skin.

"I'm not making any."

"You make a little one right here." He kissed the spot beneath my breast. "Every time."

He stripped me.

He stripped himself.

Then he lay down between my legs and gathered me against him, chest to chest.

I felt all of him along the length of me, skin to skin, warm and heavy and wanting.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked.

"I'm going to go in slow. I want you to watch my face the whole time. Okay?"

"Okay."

He pushed in.

It was the slowest he'd ever been, one long inch at a time, with his eyes fixed on mine and his breath held.

I felt every part of him stretch me open.

My lips parted.

My hands slid up his back.

"There," he said, when he was all the way in. "There you are."

"Don't move yet."

"I won't."

We lay joined and still, and the lantern hissed, and a moth hit the glass.

"You feel unbelievable," he said. "Do you know that? Like something I've been looking for in the dark."

"That's a line."

"It isn't. I'm too turned on to have lines."

I laughed, and the laugh moved through me and into him, and he groaned.

"Move," I said.

He began.

He rocked into me in long, slow, grinding strokes that kept his body pressed to mine, so that my clit rubbed against him every time he pushed deep.

It was wholly different from the boathouse, or the shower, or the dock.

It was close.

It was the kind of fucking that you do with someone you can't stop looking at.

"Kate," he said.

"Jack."

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever been inside."

"Stop."

"No. I want to say it. You're beautiful when you laugh and you're beautiful when you're mad, and you're most beautiful like this, with your mouth open and your eyes half shut and your hands all over me."

"You're going to make me cry."

"Then cry."

I didn't cry.

I came.

It built slowly and then crested, a long warm swell that took me from the toes up.

I held his face between my hands and let him watch it happen.

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