14. Billie

CHAPTER 14

BILLIE

I ’m almost finished eating by the time Jens speaks again. “I wish I was closer with my parents.”

“I feel the same about my mom,” I say softly, then add, “but there was always so much pressure.” I don’t think I fully meant to say it, but Jens gives me that curious look again, and there’s something so real in his eyes that I blurt out the truth.

“My mom always wanted the best for me. But I was never good enough for her. She wanted too much, and we argued about it all the time — when we were still talking to each other. She doesn’t like that this is my career. She thinks I’d have been better off doing, well, anything else really. I’ve tried to tell her that I’m seeing the world, that I’m having an amazing time. And she just can’t see it. All she wants is her perfect daughter — and I have never been that, and I’m never going to be that. And it breaks my heart that she’ll never get that.”

Jens nods slowly, and I take a shaky breath, feeling tears prick at my eyes.

“I get it,” he says, and my face must twist to give me away because he adds, “I know you think I don’t. And you’re right; I do come from a rich, fancy family. Too fancy, really, but being r?—”

He cuts himself off and shakes his head as if he was about to say something personal and real. It takes a second, but when I realize he’s not going to continue, my heart sinks. I just opened my entire heart up to him, and it feels like he doesn’t want to trust me in return.

“I’ve had everything that I always wanted,” Jens says instead of whatever he stopped himself blurting. “And I know that makes me lucky. I know I shouldn’t complain, but I guess… well, some part of me feels like I don’t deserve this. I’m not the perfect son my family want. I let them down. I…”

He trails off and stares at the ground like he’s trying to dig a hole with his eyes.

“You can tell me,” I say suddenly, impulsively reaching out for his hands. “Whatever secret it is you’re hiding, you can tell me.”

He scoffs, staring at the sky as if he’s looking for an answer. “I don’t have a secret.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Why would I do that?”

Suddenly it feels like something is pulling us together, like the whole world’s shrinking down to a pinpoint, with us at the center, like a spotlight is shining down on us. It takes my breath away.

“I thought you already did,” he says quietly, staring into my eyes. I can’t look away. There’s something sparkling in them, something that he desperately wants to say, and without thinking, my eyes flip down to his lips.

I take a shaky breath. “You’re annoying. But I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

Time freezes for a second, and then the whole world explodes around me as Jens leans forward and presses his lips against mine.

No kiss I’ve ever had has felt like this. This is electrically charged. This is sparks and passion.

This is perfection.

He reels away, almost pushing me back. “God, I’m sorry,” he says, staring down at his feet again. “I shouldn’t have?—”

“No,” I cut him off. “No, it’s okay.”

“It is?”

“Yes. Do it again.”

I don’t need to tell him twice. He leans in again, this time entwining our fingers deliberately. This kiss is slower, deeper, assured. He tastes like lake water and sweat and sweet fruit, and the more I kiss him, the more addicted I think I’m getting.

Growing bold, I wrap my arms around him, pushing myself closer, and almost like an instinct, he draws me in, sliding his hands down my back. “Billie,” he growls, kissing my jaw, “I want you so badly.”

“Then take me.”

“You mean it?”

His big blue eyes shine wide, and I smile, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I really mean it.”

“You have condoms here?”

I chuckle. “No, but I’m on the pill and I’m not going to give you anything.”

“Good. I mean, obviously good, but I’m clean too. I wouldn’t want to— I mean, I wouldn’t suggest that?—”

Sensing one of his rambles coming on, I kiss him again to shut him up. There’s a fire burning inside me, and it’s not going to get doused by listening to him talking nonsense about STIs. If anything, that’s the opposite of what I want to hear right now.

What I want is for him to strip me naked and kiss me so hard I lose all ability to think coherently.

Fortunately, he gets the message. He jumps to his feet and lifts me to mine, all but sweeping me up as we stumble towards the cabin, snatching kisses in between watching where we’re going.

We make our way into my room, and he wastes no time pinning me up against the wall and sliding his hands up my shirt. His palms are warm against my belly, but I still shiver as that electric crackle spreads over my skin again. I help him get me out of my T-shirt, then feel faintly embarrassed by the fact I’m wearing a random old sports bra.

If I’d known Jens was going to see me naked today, I’d have put a little more effort in.

But he still rakes his eyes over my body like he’s looking at something precious. “You’re gorgeous,” he breathes, and a hot rush floods both to my face and in between my legs.

“No, you’re gorgeous.”

“But you haven’t even seen me yet.”

“The wet shirt left very little to the imagination.”

“You liked that, did you?”

He raises a cocky eyebrow, and I shake my head fondly. “You say that like you did it on purpose.” He shrugs, not disproving my idea, but doesn’t comment. “But,” I add, “I think I might need to see it again.”

With a grin, he slides off his shirt and throws it to the floor. And I was right. The wet shirt had given me exactly the right idea about his physique.

He’s muscular, but not in that weird, movie-star way. Instead, he just looks strong, well built and powerful. He’s streamlined. He is most definitely gorgeous.

We fumble our way out of the rest of our clothes, helping each other by undoing buttons and clasps, and by the time we fall into bed, we are completely naked and our lips are fused together. I would be happy enough to keep kissing him forever, but there’s a throbbing between my legs that I need to address.

Carefully, I take his hand and guide him to my core, and to my relief, he gets the idea quickly, his fingers tickling over my belly then drifting down. “Please,” I gasp, not wanting to wait.

As he slides his fingers into my folds and dives into my wetness, his lips capture mine again, and the sparks that have been flying between us turn into a live wire in water, exploding into a pleasure that makes me shake and cry out and curl into his body. His fingers are gentle, exploratory, and when he finds just the right place to touch, he zones in on it, bringing me closer and closer to climax.

And when I do come, he doesn’t stop. He holds me and touches me and kisses me as warm, intense pleasure floods into every nerve ending in my body.

All I can do is cling to him and gasp his name.

When he slides his fingers out of me, I’m left with a gaping void, a desperate desire for more, but almost like he can read my mind, he shuffles his position and lines his hardness up with my entrance. “Please,” I whisper. “I need you inside me.”

“Your wish is my command,” he growls, then surges forward, connecting us in a way I barely imagined could be possible.

We entwine in perfect harmony, our bodies fitting together like a key in a lock, like two halves of a whole that never realized they were supposed to be one. I come again, clawing at his skin, and he doesn’t stop, almost like he doesn’t know how.

I almost wish he never had to stop.

This feeling, the crackling electricity and the smell of sweat and sex, the hair sticking to our faces and hips colliding against each other — it’s all perfect.

For the first time in a long time, I feel perfect.

I really can let myself believe that Jens wants me. He’s proving it with every second.

Deep in my heart, I know it without a doubt. This is true.