He notices the shift in me. He always does. To lighten it, I point to the bowl of mashed potatoes. Penn scoops up another bite and feeds me, like we’re weaving comfort into every small action. The fire snaps, the storm hammers outside, but here in the empty clubhouse with Penn, the old familiar ache in my chest, born out of humiliation, feels… muted. Almost bearable.
“Do you wish…” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, hesitation flickering in his eyes. “Do you wish he’d put the ring on your finger and not Sloane’s?”
I snort, the sound surprising even me. His brows rise, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction.
“Not even in a million years, Penn.” I take another bite of pizza, shaking my head. “Sure, it was strange seeing him with her. And yeah, maybe some small part of me knew it was going to be a disaster, which is why I dragged you into the middle of it.” My voice softens with guilt as I glance at him. “That was my mess. I shouldn’t have involved you.”
“I’m kind of glad you did.”
“Because I’m about to rehab your bad-boy reputation?”
His grin is crooked, sincere. “No. Because otherwise I wouldn’t be here with you, eating pizza and mashed potatoes in front of a fire.” He takes my empty plate, sets it on the coffee table, and before I can blink, he’s tugged me effortlessly onto his lap. His hands bracket my waist like I belong there. His voice drops low. “I like being here with you, Jay.”
Outside, the wind howls against the windows, but inside, the firelight flickers golden across his face, and warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with the flames. His palm strokes up my back, and the heat of it sears straight through me.
“I like being here with you, too.”
His confession leaves me trembling, and I lean in and press my lips to his. What starts slow ignites in an instant. Our mouths opening, tongues tangling, the kiss going hot and hungry. Hands roam, tugging at clothes, both of us desperate to erase the space between us.
“Stand,” he murmurs against my lips, tapping my thigh.
I rise slowly, my knees shaky, my breath unsteady. Standing before him, the fire crackling at my back, I glance down at his shirt and can’t help but smirk. He follows my gaze, reading the words across his chest before his eyes flick back up to mine, playful and blazing.
“Have I played my cards right?” he asks, voice thick with desire.
I hook my thumbs into the hem of my sweater and give my hips a slow, teasing sway. “Well… you did make a mean bowl of mashed potatoes, so I’m going to say yes.”
He groans, shifting in his seat, adjusting his pants like they suddenly don’t fit. The sight sends a thrill through me.
“Something going on there?” I tease, pulling my sweater over my head and tossing it away.
He doesn’t answer with words, only a low, guttural sound, his eyes tracking every flick of my fingers as I unfasten the buttons of my shirt and let it slip off my shoulders.
“Fuck,” he growls, the sound rough and needy.
I turn slowly, giving him my back, my fingers working the clasp of my bra. The clasp slips loose, and I toss the bra aside with a flick of my wrist.
“Jay.” His voice is raw now, no teasing left, only hunger. “I want to see you.”
I glance back over my shoulder, my lips curving, heart thundering, the air between us humming like it might combust. “Then look.”
As he watches intently, I slide my hand to the button of my pants and flick it open. The zipper hums as I shimmy the pants down my legs, deliberately slow, pointing my ass right at him as I undress. Behind me, Penn’s breathing shifts—deeper, heavier—and the sound sends heat racing through my blood.
I’ve never given anyone a show before, never teased like this, never bared myself with so much intention. But then again, I’ve never done a lot of things until Penn. My fiancé.
Hooking my thumbs under the thin band of my panties, I tug them down just an inch, just enough to taunt, before backing up and lowering myself onto his lap. His thighs are hot and unyielding beneath me, his body buzzing like a live wire under my skin.
“Babe,” he rasps, brushing my hair from my neck so his mouth can find my bare skin. His lips burn a trail up my neck, his breath ragged. “You are so fucking sexy.”
I wiggle, grinding deliberately against the thick hardness straining inside his pants. His groan vibrates through me, low and guttural, and I know it’s killing him, being trapped like that. With a wicked grin, I rise, pivot, and straddle him, facing forward this time. I hover just above his lap, arching my back, my breast brushing his mouth like an invitation.
He takes it without hesitation. His lips close over me, hot and wet, sucking until my head tips back and a moan slips free. His tongue teases, laves, and the scrape of his teeth has me clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more.
When he finally pulls back, his hands roam lower, sliding down the curve of my spine until they’re gripping my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. Then, in one swift move, the band of my panties snaps tight around my hips before he yanks, tearing them clean off.
“Penn,” I gasp, half shocked, half exhilarated by the raw urgency in him.
“Need you naked,” he growls, scattering hot kisses across my throat, my collarbone, anywhere he can reach.