Going For It by Liz Matis Page A

straining against the fabric of his briefs.
    “I think I made my point.”
    “But…”
    Jake walked back to the bed. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m ruled by this.” He took her hand and rubbed his cock with it, biting his lip and tilting his head to the side like he was trying, but failing to prove his statement. He raised her hand to his heart. “Or by this.”
    But Hannah thought that had to be a lie. The beat beneath her palm, rapid and unsteady, matched her own.
    “Not even here.” He quickly tapped his bald head then slid her fingers down to his cut abs. “I go with my gut.”
    Her nails dug into his chiseled flesh, not an ounce of fat on him. He could easily land an endorsement deal for men’s underwear. No stuffing required. “And what does your gut tell you?”
    Backing away, he grabbed the rest of his clothes, flipped them over his shoulder, and left the room without a word.
    “Good. I wanted you to leave in the first place,” she huffed.
    “I’m going to make us waffles,” he yelled from the hallway. “My gut is hungry and you look hungrier.”
    Hannah grabbed the pink silk robe hanging from the four-poster bed and followed him into the kitchen as she slid it on. “I have a shoot within two days. I can NOT eat waffles.”
    He ignored her, grabbing the waffle iron and plugging it in. He hummed a tune as he raided the fridge and mixed up the batter with strong, steady strokes. Jake looked at home in her kitchen like he’d only been gone a weekend and not months, which again annoyed and charmed her all at the same time. Even though he was unshaven and shirtless, he almost seemed domesticated but Hannah knew better. Men like Jake could not be tamed. It was better to return them to the wild before you became attached. It was a lesson she’d wished her Mother had learned.
    Did he just sprinkle nutmeg in the batter? Her mouth watered.
    As he poured the batter into the waffle maker he stopped humming and asked, “What I don’t get is that we had this big blow-out about you doing Playboy—you break up with me over it—and then you don’t do it. Why?” He looked at her with a penetrating gaze.
    His light brown eyes reminded her of the wolf she’d admired at the Central Park Zoo. Jake forbid Hannah to pose and nobody tells her what to do so she told him to take his archaic views of women and shove it up his ass. Until last night they hadn’t seen nor spoken to each other in seven long sex deprived months. At least she’d been sex deprived. She’d bet Jake lasted all of a day before he moved on. “Well, it wasn’t because of you.”
    “Then why not do it?” He took the pants he’d thrown onto the chair and pulled them on.
    “You are so full of yourself.” She gave a snarky laugh. “Victoria Secret gave me another year on my contract. I negotiated to be on the cover of the swimsuit issue. Which is a miracle, aging model that I am.”
    “Aging? Hannah you’re barely into your thirties.”
    Thirty-one, to be exact. Hannah shuddered at the number. She was ancient compared to the hot slutty girls of today though she supposed that’s what the supermodels of the late nineties thought about her when she burst onto the scene. “I’m a dinosaur.”
    Jake zipped up. “You’re more beautiful today.”
    Hannah huffed in disbelief.
    He approached her with a gleam in his eye and pulled the bow that held her robe together and slid his hands up the swell of her hips. “You were the girl next door, but now you’re a beautiful female fatale with curves.”
    “Fat.” She pushed him away. In the real world she wasn’t but in the fashion world? She was a horse. But Victoria Secret liked curvy models and she was more likely to be fired for being too skinny than for gaining a couple of pounds.
    “Really Hannah?
    She looked away remembering the latest designer who pinched at her waist and told her she was thickening. Thickening!
    “Your body would drive any man insane. Believe me, I know.