I Only Have Eyes for You

“Let go of me.”

“No.”

His new favorite word was muffled by her hair, so soft, so silky against his chin and lips. And the truth was, he couldn’t have let go of her for the world. Not just because he didn’t want that other guy touching her...but because he’d never wanted to hold anyone more than he did Sophie.

How long had he dreamed of holding her? Too many years to keep count. And yet, he’d never had a clue just how incredibly good she would feel in his arms, her dangerous curves pressed into him, her chest rising and falling against his arms.

“I’m not going to let you go until you promise me you’ll stay away from him.”

Now it was her turn to say, “No.”

He shifted his hand enough to slip a finger beneath her chin and turn her face so that he could look into her eyes. “Promise me, Sophie. It’s for your own good.”

Sophie yanked her face away from his hand, then her whole body, and when she turned to face him head-on, her eyes were flashing. “I can’t believe you just said that! Especially since you of all people have no idea whatsoever what’s good for me.”

“Wanna bet?”

His mouth was on hers before he could put the brakes on his desire. He was too angry, too frustrated with himself for wanting her this much—and her infuriating stubbornness—to be gentle.

Lips weren’t enough. He needed tongues. Needed to slide one hand into her hair to tilt her head at just the right angle to take what she’d been about to offer some other worthless guy. Needed to grip the luscious curve of her hips with his other hand to drag her in closer.

Somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew he was moving too fast for her to possibly enjoy the kiss, let alone keep up with him. But even though she should have been fighting him, her arms were twined around his neck and she was moaning softly against his mouth as her tongue pressed out to slide against his.

Sweet Lord, Sophie was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her. He couldn’t stop his hand from creeping up from her hips to her waist, to the bottom of her rib cage and then—holy hell, she felt good—the curve of one breast in his palm.

She gasped into his mouth, shivering with pleasure as his thumb crested the aroused tip, and Jake knew he was barely a breath away from lowering her to the grass and pulling her dress up her long legs, until he could touch and lick and—

What the hell was he doing?

Knowing Sophie didn’t stand a chance of fighting off a guy like him if he put her in his sights, his gut churned with self-hatred as he abruptly released her, so quickly that she stumbled back in her heels. Even though he knew better than to ever touch her again, he couldn’t let her fall. As soon as he knew she was steady on her feet, he forced himself to let go, the need to pull her back into his arms so strong it felt like it was clawing at his insides.

Sophie’s mouth was swollen from his rough kiss, her cheeks were flaming, and her eyes were shining with what he assumed were budding tears. He expected her to slap him, or at the very least, to turn and run to her brothers to tell them what had just happened.

So that they could kill him.

Which was exactly what he deserved for daring to kiss those too-sweet lips.

But she didn’t run. And she wasn’t crying. Instead, she stood in front of him looking more beautiful than she ever had before. One part vulnerable, the other part stunned.

“No one has ever kissed me like that,” she said in a breathless voice, “like you couldn’t get enough, like you couldn’t stop yourself and I was driving you crazy. All these years and I never knew it would be like that.”

Jesus, it was hot when she replayed their kiss by turning it into words. But his chest twisted at the way she was acting—like he hadn’t been mauling her, like he hadn’t been seconds away from ripping her dress off and taking something from her she should never, ever give a guy like him. She was enough of a romantic to have made him out to be something other than the bastard he really was all these years.

Jake knew the truth. He came from a long line of bastards.

“Sophie,” he said in low, remorseful voice. “I never should have kissed you. Especially not like that.”

He’d been a crazed man without any self-control at all. A few more seconds and she would have been beneath him on the grass, her dress hiked up around her hips and pulled down beneath her br**sts. If he’d done that to her, if he’d marked her with his out-of-control lust, he wouldn’t have waited for her brothers to kill him.

He would have done the job on himself, with pleasure.

“We were both part of what happened.” Her voice was soft, but surprisingly firm. Her eyes were clear and steady on his as she surprised the hell out of him, yet again, by actually saying the words, “I have wanted you to kiss me for a long time. A very long time.”

As she took another one of those deep breaths that nearly popped her out of her dress, Jake knew this was the universe paying him back for every bad thing he’d ever done. He felt like his collar was too tight, even though it was unbuttoned and he wasn’t wearing his tie any longer.

She moved closer. Too close. But he couldn’t make himself back away from her. Not when every last cell in his body wanted to erase the distance and go back to that place where she was finally in his arms.

“My brothers were losing it before the wedding when they saw me.” Jake couldn’t help but be impressed by her courage as she gestured to her dress, her hair, her face. “They kept asking me what was going on and I told them it was nothing. I told them all I wanted was to have fun with the hairdresser and makeup artist. But I was lying to them. And to myself.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I did it for you, Jake. To see if I could finally get you to notice that I was alive. To see that I’m not a little girl anymore with a silly crush. That I’m a woman.”