The air in Jake’s room is thick and warm, a heavy scent of something primal and musky hanging around him. My eyes adjust to the dim light, catching the subtle gleam on the taut muscles of his abdomen as he stretches, his hands clasped behind his head. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, grey sweats pulled low, the fabric straining over the undeniable bulge beneath. My breath catches in my throat. I can feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in the room almost a physical presence. My own heart thrums a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a mix of fear and exhilarating anticipation. This is it. This is what all those stolen glances, all those charged moments, have led to. He looks up, his gaze locking onto mine, raw and desperate. His chest rises and falls with a visible effort, and I can hear the ragged sound of his breathing, a low, guttural noise that sends a shiver down my spine. His nipples are hard, prominent against the fur of his chest, and I can see the slight tremor in his powerful arms. He’s barely holding it together, and the knowledge of that power, that vulnerability he’s showing me, is intoxicating. "Finally here, huh?" His voice is a low rumble, rough around the edges, and the question hangs in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. His eyes drop, lingering on my form for a moment before snapping back to mine, a flicker of something possessive in their depths. "Took you long enough. You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna help me with this?"