“For you,” he said, “obviously.”

She kind of wanted to smack him, but, like, in a hot way. More than that, though—“I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that so?” he asked softly, bending his head to her cunt again. His mouth, tender but firm, brushed against her folds as he spoke. “Let me guess. You want something nice and long and thick inside you. Here.” He pushed the tip of his tongue into her sensitized entrance and Eve’s entire body jerked as if shocked with pleasure.

“Now,” she gasped, her nerves humming with the urge to just—to just grab him and drag him higher and yank him out of those jeans.

Then he picked up the dildo and said, “Good thing we have this.”

It was strange, the way her pulse leapt with anticipation even as her heart drooped a bit. “I want you.”

“I’m right here,” he said, his gaze on hers, something solemn and more serious than she’d ever seen in his eyes. “Just let me do this. Okay, Evie?”

Little fragments of reality crept up on her then. Like the fact that what they were doing would complicate things, and Jacob hated complications. Or the fact that she shouldn’t have time for complications, since she was busy learning to make sensible, adult decisions, not hormone-led messy ones.

They were floating together in a bubble of lust, a fragile sheen of protection against hard questions like What did that mean? and What are we now? Maybe Eve wasn’t the only one who’d learned to dread the inevitable, negative answers to questions like that.

Smoothing a hand through his hair, she asked, “What do you want, Jacob? Really?”

His eyes slid closed for a minute before he answered, his voice aching with honesty. “A lot. But most of all, I just want to know you like this.”

Those words were such a sweet surprise, she laughed as her arousal hummed back from the brink of concern. “Why does everything you say have to be so hot?”

He looked surprised at that, then pleased. “The talking is usually my weak point.”

“Give me a warning before we hit your strengths, then, or I might be in danger of passing out.”

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s your warning.” His thumb parted her folds, pressed firm against her cunt, pushed inside. Then there was nothing but fullness and pressure, a pressure that turned into zinging, overwhelming energy when he found her G-spot and rubbed in a slow circle.

“Oh, fuck,” she managed, her voice catching. Pleasure pulsed through her veins as he bent his head and sucked—sucked—on her clit, gentle and wet and insistent. Time blurred a bit. At some point he replaced his thumb with two fingers, thrust harder and deeper, then gave her another. Her clit grew more sensitive, so he licked instead of sucking, tapping the hood lightly when she shook beneath him. And with every dizzying second, that rabid desire at her core grew worse, or maybe better, depending on your perspective.