Sophie threw her head back and held onto him like she was going for rodeo queen and he was the prized bull that was going to clinch her the title. Jake’s roar of pleasure set every nerve in her body to tingling as she called out his name.
When she could finally rouse her brain to working again, she realized that somewhere in there he must have rolled them over to cradle her in his arms.
For several minutes, they remained connected, two sweaty, panting people wrapped around each other. Sophie felt she could stay like this forever. No need for food or clothes or words. Just Jake’s arms around her, his heart beating against hers.
* * *
Jake had spent his entire life on guard against pain, failure, disappointment. Being with Sophie made him want to stop bracing himself for the inevitable fall, made him want to give in to a hope he’d sworn as a kid never to let himself feel again.
“Can I ask you something?” She was slowly tracing the inked armband around his bicep with the tip of one finger.
He tensed before he could will himself not to give his discomfort away, and she pressed a kiss to his chest. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. At least, I don’t think it is.”
She lifted her face to look up at him and his breath caught at how beautiful she was. He kept thinking that, after all these hours they were spending together, he’d get used to it soon.
Considering he’d never been able to get used to it as she’d grown from girl to woman in the past twenty years, he supposed he should just man up and accept that he never would.
She was that beautiful to him.
“What is it?” he said, the realization of just how powerfully the woman in his arms rocked his world making the words come out harder than he intended
“I was just wondering about your tattoos.” She slid the tip of one finger over the Celtic dragon tail that ran from his back to his lower ribcage. “They’re beautiful. I’m sure they must have hurt, so you must have really wanted them.”
Being drilled with a needle for hours hadn’t hurt nearly as much as his father’s punches had. At least the tattoos had made him feel stronger. Tougher. As though the Celtic warriors of the past were in the wings waiting to help him when he needed it most.
“Tell me what they mean.” At his continued silence, she lifted her eyes to his again. “Please.”
Did she know that he could never refuse her anything if she looked at him like that and asked so sweetly? Did she have any idea just how tightly she had him wrapped around her little finger, that even as a bitter ten-year-old boy he’d been held captivate by her?
“That one is a Celtic dragon.”
“We’re always so busy with—” She blushed. “I’ve never really had a chance to see the whole thing up close.” She slid her fingertips over the tattoo, her breath warm on his skin. “It’s amazing. What does it symbolize?”
He’d never shared the symbolism, or his reasons, with anyone else. Had never even been tempted before now. Before Sophie.
“One who conquers the dragon.”
“What about this band around your arm? What does that stand for?”
“The strength of a warrior.”
“And the leprechaun on your forearm? Why does he have his fists raised?”
He would have shut her down if he thought he could get away with it. But he knew with utter certainty that she wouldn’t leave it alone until she had all her answers. And if he didn’t give them to her, she’d just look them up in one of her books. Anyone who thought Sophie Sullivan was a pushover was the real idiot.
“Leprechauns are fighters.”
“Funny, I always thought they were more like rascals hiding a pot of gold.” She moved her hand up his chest, to his right shoulder. “This one looks like a shield.”
“It is.”
She cocked her head to the side, and asked, “No four-leaf clovers anywhere?”
“I’ve never believed in luck.” Or any of the other things that the four leaves represented, like hope, or faith. Or love.
Sure, he’d loved Sophie nearly his whole life. How could he not? But he’d never believed anyone could love him back...never thought there was a chance that luck, hope, and faith would show up on his doorstep in Napa and barge into his life.
She placed her hand flat over his heart and looked up at him. “Strength. Symbols of battle. Warriors. Shields.”
He could hear the sadness she’d been trying to hide from him in the restaurant when he’d finally told her about his mother and father. She moved onto her hands and knees and crawled over him.
“Can we pretend you have one more tattoo, right here?” She pressed a kiss over his heart.
He couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but pull her up over him so that he could kiss her.
“Thank you for answering my questions,” she added in a husky voice when he finally let her go. “If I wasn’t almost late for work already, I’d thank you properly.” She pressed one more kiss to his lips, then went to take a shower.
Jake remembered what Chase had said on his wedding day—that Chloe was worth a thousand orgies. Jake hadn’t believed it, but now he knew the truth: One of Sophie’s smiles, her gentle kiss—along with the love she’d once declared to him—meant a million times more to him than anything else ever would.
Chapter Twenty
Jake and Sophie stood on the library steps half an hour later. She had kept her hair up in that hot little bun and as he kissed her goodbye, he tangled his fingers in it to pull it loose.