Conquer Your Love
Page 21

I leaned into his touch and regarded him.
“Where did you learn to drive like that?”
He blinked once, twice. “What?” Confusion crossed his features, as if he wasn’t expecting my question. The reaction intrigued me.
“I don’t know anybody who can drive like you. Except for my ex but he had lots of training.”
“Your ex?” Jett’s brows shot up. Was he jealous? Amidst the surrealism of the situation, I smiled because his sudden scowl was priceless.
Jett and jealous?
Who would’ve figured?
It wasn’t like me to talk about previous relationships, but something told me Jett wouldn’t let this one go.
“Yeah, my ex is a professional racer.”
“When did you—“
“It’s long over.” I waved my hand. “Weeks ago.”
“Weeks?” A nerve began to twitch on his forehead. He sat down on the bed, making sure not to touch me. Now he was angry.
“Jett, it’s over. It wasn’t even a relationship, or anything.” I took his hand. “It wasn’t the real deal.”
It was the truth. Cameron wasn’t looking for commitment. Neither was I. We had an on and off relationship, a friends-with-benefits thing—more of the benefits, less of the friendship part.
“It meant nothing. I never loved him,” I whispered. “He couldn’t compete with you even if he wanted.” His expression lit up a little bit.
“I’m the better catch, huh?”
I punched his arm playfully, my eyes willing his beautiful lips to smile. “I’m glad he and I broke up,” I said.
“That’s good to hear because I want you all for myself.”
I wrapped my arms around Jett and buried my face against his broad chest in the hope my embrace could convey the magnitude of my feelings for him. His tension was still palpable and hundreds of unspoken questions lingered in the air. But I could also feel his unwillingness to start a senseless argument, for which I was grateful.
“Let’s focus on the present.” My fingers traced the contours of his chin. In spite of his stubble, his skin felt amazingly soft beneath my fingertips. He smelled so good, so manly, I could be with him, and only him, forever.
“You’re right.” He lay back and pulled me on top of him. I relaxed in the comfort of his arms, but my question still burned on my mind.
“So, how did you learn to drive like that, Jett?” My fingers gingerly played with the buttons of his shirt. “And don’t say through driving lesson, or courses, because training alone isn’t enough. What I saw is experience—and lots of it.”
He heaved an exasperated sigh. Hesitating, he ran his hand through his hair, as if considering how much to tell me. “You’re right. I did stuff.”
Lifting up on one elbow, I tried to make sense of his cryptic statement by reading his body language, which was difficult from the way he lay on his back with his hands propped under his head, staring at the ceiling, his eyes expressionless.
“You said that before,” I prompted.
“I was involved in underground car races,” Jett mumbled, hesitating again.
“Okay,” I prompted again.
“They’re not like what you see on sports channels, Brooke. There’s no one to inspect your car and change your tires. We raced for money and reputation, mostly in huge storage halls and parking buildings. Sometimes outside on quiet streets or mountain roads.”
His eyes narrowed on me and a glint appeared. Sensing the magnitude of what he was about to tell me, I held my breath, not daring to move or touch him in case he changed his mind and bottled up again.
“It started after…uhm…my father threw me out when I was sixteen.”
“Why did he do that?”
“Ever since my mother left, I’d been harboring a grudge against him, you know, questioning his authority and the way he used to demand respect when he had never really behaved like a father. My tendency to confront him in front of other people embarrassed him. He kept saying I was endangering his company with my behavior, so I chose to do the opposite of what he wanted. And in the end he threw me out. I stayed with my friends, many of them older than me. They kept me off the streets and taught me how to drive and how to fight, which is how things started. The fact that my life didn’t mean a damn thing to me made me bold and reckless, and hell bent on winning. At some point, I was addicted to adrenaline.”
“You mean fighting, like Kung Fu?”
He laughed. “Let me guess. You were just thinking of Bruce Lee?”
I smirked. “More like Jackie Chan. I used to love that guy.”
“I hope not in the literal sense.” His eyes bore into me. So beautiful. So deep. “It was nothing professional. No gloves, no protective headgear.”
Hot, hot, hot!
Did the temperature just soar? Or was it my blood pressure sending me into the scorching desert at the images running through my mind?
“That’s pretty rough,” I said.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Direct body contact is rough. And you?” The sudden attempt at changing the subject didn’t escape me. I wanted to hear more about his past. I wanted it so bad it hurt, and yet I knew pushing him wasn’t the right way to go. Not with a man like Jett.
“Did you like sports?” he insisted.
Seriously? Did he ever look at me?
“Uhm.” I laughed. “I used to swim and run, until I grew those boobs.”
“So heavy lifting then, judging from your breasts…” His gaze traveled to my chest and remained there. He didn’t even pretend not to be staring.
“Oh my god, you’re such a jerk.” I punched him playfully.
“Quite the contrary. It was meant as a compliment. But just to make sure I’m not wrong, may I touch them?” He grinned that panty-dropping smile of his that always made me want to beg him to do naughty things to me. His hands cupped my breasts and his thumbs began to caress them through the thin material of my top and bra. My nipples instantly hardened, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body.
“You may not.” I slapped his hands away, pretending I didn’t want it, but my shallow breathing was a dead giveaway. Jett rolled on his back and pulled me on top of him. His knee pried my legs open and settled between them, rubbing gently against my sex. I suppressed a moan at the wet sensation pooling down there.
“I made sure to book a room with a whirlpool,” Jett whispered. “You wanna try it?” His voice oozed sensuality and countless promises of pleasure. “We could order dinner, and then we could have desert. You get to choose. I’m game for whatever you want.”
His hand trailed down my stomach and squeezed under my shirt, as his mouth began to place heated kisses on my neck.
I moaned. “No alcohol.”
“You think that’s the only way I can get you into bed?” His hoarse chuckle reverberated through me, making me shudder with want.
Obviously not.
“I’m in,” I whispered. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter 14
The round whirlpool was big enough to fit several people—not that the thought of others joining us appealed to me. One person was more than enough for me. I watched Jett as he slowly peeled off his clothes, with each piece revealing more of his delicious body. And then he was standing in front of me, with only his underwear to hide his impressive modesty. Towering at over six feet, his height both intimidated and fascinated me. The tattoos both attracted and aroused me. He felt my gaze on his manhood and let out a deep sexy breath, the sound vibrating through my lower abdomen. I knew what came next, and the prospect of seeing him completely naked excited me. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him.
“Let me help you,” he whispered and started to undress me in slow but measured steps, his eyes never leaving mine. Those sinful eyes that never failed to light my whole being on fire. His hands pulled my top over my head and then unzipped my skirt, taking all the time in the world when I didn’t feel particularly patient.
Standing in front of him in my panties and my bra, my hands slid down his hard torso. His fingers gripped my chin and forced my face up to look at him.
“You’re sexy, Brooke, but today I can’t give you what you want.”
“Why’s that?” My voice was hoarse yet playful, pretending not to know he was talking about sex, while my hands continued to caress his naked chest. He moaned as my fingers moved further south, rubbing over the well-defined bulge beneath his shorts. “Are you giving in yet?”
“No.” A soft hiss escaped his throat. “And you should stop before I change my mind.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to,” I purred, my hand continuing to stroke his length. I almost squealed with delight as he began to grow in size before my eyes. “Maybe this is exactly what I need.”
“No, baby.” He shook his head and closed his eyes for a brief moment. His face was a mask of desire but he fought it hard, which both infuriated and delighted me because I loved a challenge. His eyes opened again and he regarded me with so much determination I knew I had to step up my game.
“So far we’ve focused on sex only,” Jett whispered. “Today I want to give you romance because it’s our first official date.”
He was doing it all backwards!
My body was craving for him. I didn’t mind doing him on our first official date at all. Come to think of it, we had done it already but that was just the appetizer.
“Ah, our first date.” I laughed out loud. “You’ve given me a date I think I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.”
“You think or you’re sure about that?” His mouth curled into a stunning smile. I wanted to run my fingers through his unruly hair and suck his lower lip into my mouth, biting and teasing so hard he’d beg for mercy.
“I was whisked away on a ship and then you saved my life.” My hands moved beneath his shorts and pulled them down, revealing his splendid erection. My gaze glued to it, I licked my lips with anticipation at taking him deep into my mouth.
“Brooke, stop looking at me like that.” His words carried just the right amount of a warning to make me giggle but not avert my gaze.
“What more could I want for in a date?” I said. “I think your efforts deserve a reward.” My fingers wrapped around the base of his manhood and lingered there. “And I know where to start.”
“Not sex. You can repay me in a different way,” he whispered.
I wanted to point out that I didn’t feel like owing him anything. Truth be told, I liked the idea of pleasing him. It turned me on. It made me wet just thinking about it, picturing him at my mercy.
“How?” I ran my fingertips up and down his swollen shaft until he stopped my hand from moving, rubbing, anything that I knew would make him give in.
“You could learn scuba diving with me. Isn’t that what you said you always wanted to do?”
“I thought you weren’t listening,” I said, surprised that he remembered my monologue in the car. “You’re a really good driver. Were you even afraid when those people were after us? It didn’t look like you broke a sweat.”