Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Seventeen

    Mia continued grabbing every piece of junk food she could find. She'd grab, then load them on the counter, return to the aisles and grab more. Then she hit up the freezer and plucked out a carton of her favorite ice cream, Cherry Garcia from Ben & Jerry's.

    Drake joined her. "I'm about done."

    "Me too," she said, hugging the ice cream carton to her chest.

    He laughed and started heading towards the counter. "That's all you're getting?"

    "Not...quite," she said just as he reached the counter.

    "Damn, girl," he exclaimed, turning incredulous eyes on her.

    She shrugged. "You said I could have whatever I want."

    He laughed and turned back to the haul she'd loaded onto the counter. "Yeah, I just didn't know you were trying to buy everything in the store."

    She nudged him, then grabbed onto his arm while the cashier rung up the food items on the counter.

    On the way out, they were recognized by more customers. More pictures, more autographs, more jokes. Then Mia was hanging onto Drake's arm again and they were climbing into his car.

    She leaned into him the moment he sat next to her, and beamed when his arm went around her.

    Five minutes later they were driving past the opened gates to his estate. The driver pulled the car up in front of the front doors. They hopped out of the car, entered the house, and raided the kitchen for spoons. While she was standing at the kitchen counter, he started tickling her again, then chased her upstairs to the master bedroom. They dropped the snack-filled plastic bags on the floor and collapsed on the bed, play wrestling. It didn't take long for him to pin her hands above her head. He grinned triumphantly. "Thought you were going to beat me? I'm the play wrestling champion."

    She struggled against him, but he wasn't letting up. "Fine, you win."

    He released her hands.

    She rolled over and straddled him, then raised his hands over his head.

    "You tryin' to play dirty?" he demanded.

    She pushed him down on the bed, leaned down, and kissed him.

    When she pulled back from the kiss, he said, "This is the strangest slumber party I've ever been to."

    "Shut up," she said, jumping off of him. "But you did remind me that I need to change into my pajamas. So do you."

    He laughed. "What pajamas? We sleep naked."

    "You have pajamas. I've seen them. Stop being an ass." She threw a pillow at him, then disappeared into the gigantic wardrobe closet they now shared.

    He followed her into the closet, reaching behind his head and pulling up his shirt.

    She stared at him over her shoulder, scanning her eyes down the length of his torso. If this boy doesn't stop playing with me...

    With his his eyes on her, he started to unbuckle his belt.

    Arching an eyebrow at him, she reached behind her back and tugged down the zipper. One-handed. Thankfully, getting out of the dress proved to be much easier than getting into it. This wasn't a moment when she wanted to look clumsy or have to fumble. He was teasing her, and she wanted to tease him back. She slid the sleeves of the dress down her arms and let the fabric crumple around her waist.

    His eyes anchored on her breasts as he unbuttoned his jeans. He took one step closer to her.

    She backed away from him, sliding the dress down lower on her hips.

    A smile curved his lips as he unzipped his pants and took another step closer.

    He lifted his eyes back up to her face and hooked one of his thumbs in the belt loop of his jeans.

    She stared up at him. This was a standoff. Who was going to fold and give in first? Who was going to lose all restraint and jump on the other? The sight of his chest did make her want to jump his bones. The way his jeans were sitting on his hips, as if they would fall at any given moment, didn't help matters much. Stay strong, girl. He already kicked your ass at play wrestling. If he wanted a challenge, she would give him one. She took a step closer to him, the tip of her breasts mere inches away from his chest.

    His dark eyes were growing more intense by the minute, but one thing about him: he had an enviable amount of self-awareness and self-control. He stood there, enjoying the view. Wanting to touch her, she could see it in his eyes, but keeping himself from actually doing it.

    With slow, deliberate movements, she pushed the dress down further, past her hips. The garment made a quiet rustling sound as it tumbled to the floor and pooled around her feet.

    His eyes sparkled with nasty intentions. "Have I ever told you how much I love your skin?"

    "Yes," she replied.

    "Can I tell you again?"

    Resisting a man could be easy if you just had to resist how amazing he looked physically. And...he did look amazing. Those beautiful eyes that were moving up and down the length of her frame, those lips that he kept licking, that body of his - broad shoulders, defined arms, narrowed waist... There was no disputing the fact that he was gorgeous. If he kept his mouth shut, though, she would be able to resist him - no problems. But when he opened his mouth and spun words together in a way that made her insides turn to jelly...Houston, that's where we had the problem. There was nothing sexier than a good-looking man who was witty. Clever. If there was anything Drake was good at, anything in this life, it was putting words together in a way that drew out emotions in people. He could draw out just about any emotion he wanted from just about anyone, just by stringing a sentence together. As a fellow writer, that fact made her weak in the knees.

    "I guess that's a 'No'?" he asked, wearing that silly, charming grin that she loved so much.

    "Ugh, I hate you," she muttered, stepping forward and tugging on the waistband of his jeans.

    He laughed, but she smothered it with a kiss.

    During the kiss, she forgot that she had ice cream melting on the bedroom floor. She forgot that she'd wanted to keep it low key, watch a few movies and fall asleep with him. Whenever they kissed, she had a hard time remembering what her own name was, let alone anything else. Eager to feel him, she tugged his pants down.

    He pushed her against the back wall of the closet and yanked on the waistband of her panties. Then he proceeded to demonstrate just why he'd penned the lyrics,

"I don't really say this often,

But this long dick nigga ain't for the long talkin',

I beast."