“Shut up,” she said.

Jacob pulled back, a brow raised.

“Not you!” she said quickly. “My inner voice.” She shook her head. “Ignore her. She’s a bitch.”

He laughed low in his throat and caressed the mad curls at her hairline, drawing a finger down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “I like her,” he said, and then covered her mouth with his again, possessing her with sweetness and ferocity, the carnal intensity of it knocking her for a loop.

When they broke apart to breathe, Jacob held her gaze as he let her legs slide to the ground. He hit the lock on his bedroom door. Reached behind him for the hand she had pressed low on his back, taking her cell phone from her weak fingers, setting it aside. His phone was removed from his pocket and suffered the same fate.

Then he pulled off his shirt, and while she stood there gawking at all the mind-boggling hotness—those shoulders! that chest! the abs!—he kicked off his shoes. This left him in those low-slung board shorts, which were just loose enough to gap away from mouthwatering abs, giving her a tantalizing, teasing glimpse of a treasure trail.

Before her fingers could reach out and touch, he unzipped her sweatshirt and discovered her secret.

She had nothing on beneath.

“I was in a hurry to get food,” she said in explanation.

His growl was low and appreciative as his big, warm hands slid up her bare torso and cupped her breasts. “Make my day and tell me you’re completely commando,” he said hoarsely, his fingers rasping over her tight and aching nipples.

“I might be—” She broke off with a gasp when in the next beat her sweatpants were at her ankles.

Note to self: maybe not quite ready for prime time with Jacob Kincaid.

“Yeah,” he said, voice filled with so much heat she nearly collapsed. “You went completely commando.”

“Food, Jacob! I needed food!”

He laughed low in his throat, and his hands moving over her, slow and sure and igniting flames wherever they touched, which was everywhere. “Still need food?” he asked.

He had one hand on her ass and the other slowly gliding down her belly, heading south. “I…”

Those talented fingers of his slid between her thighs with a gentle but knowing stroke, and she forgot what she was going to say.

“Soph. Food? Or this?” This being a very naughty, very knowing glide of his fingers.

She opened her mouth to tease him and say food, but he did something diabolical with the pad of his thumb and she gasped and clutched at him. “Your shorts,” she managed. “You’re still wearing them.”

A wicked smile crossed his mouth as he stripped free of them in a single economical movement.

Before she could get a look at the goods, he wrestled her onto his bed. “I fantasized about this last night,” he said, crawling up between her legs and pinning her with his delicious weight.

“About me going commando?”

He smiled, intense, dangerous. “About you beneath me on my bed,” he said, and then rolled so that she now straddled him. “And over me. Scoot up, Soph.”

“Um, what?” Scoot up? To where?

Jacob didn’t repeat himself, just slipped his arms beneath her thighs and physically lifted her farther up his chest and then…

Oh God, and then.

His hands were on her ass, his mouth on ground zero.

She did her best to pretend she’d been in this position before, but the truth was she had absolutely no idea what to do with herself. She was literally sitting on his face! Deer in the headlights, she stilled, her hands fluttering in the air.

Beneath her, he let out what might have been a low laugh—she’d kill him later, she promised herself—and grabbed her hands, bringing them to the headboard above him, waiting until she’d taken hold of the wood spindles to squeeze, letting her know he wanted her grip on them tight.

Since she was on an unknown roller-coaster ride without a harness, she could do little else.

Nudging her legs wider with his shoulders, he settled himself in. When his tongue caressed her in just the exact right spot, her every available brain cell not involved in basic life support honed in on the action. “Ohmigod,” she gasped completely involuntarily as his tongue and lips teased her sensitive flesh, his shoulders holding her open for him, his hands on her ass. She’d never been quite so open and vulnerable before.

“God, you taste good,” he murmured, shifting gears, going from nuzzling to kissing and making her tremble. Her hands started to slip from the headboard, but his eyes met hers and she tightened her grip—just as he captured her tender flesh and sucked.