Jake stared at Phoebe, scrambling to gain purchase in his mind. She felt so good, so damn good. He’d wanted her for so long and was weary of denying himself. Yet, he couldn’t have guessed at how phenomenal it would feel to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her flex under his touch, come alive in his arms. The cat in him stirred, the depth of his primal desire a living, breathing force he could barely keep leashed.
Phoebe said his name again, her voice tinged with the barest hint of sadness. He wanted to pull her close and tell her not to worry, there was nothing to be sad about. This force between them was about the only right and true thing in his life. But he’d denied his desire for her for so many years for good reason. When they were younger, he hadn’t wanted to take advantage. That was
