“Jake,” she whispered, pulling back. “Dinner’s going to burn.”
“Hmm?”
“Dinner?”
“Fuck it,” I said, sweeping her off her feet. I lifted my knee to hit the OFF button on the oven before I carried her out of the kitchen.
As soon as we hit the bedroom, I started talking, spewing my feelings and shit. “I didn’t like not seeing you yesterday. I know you were upset I wasn’t there when you woke up.” Still talking, I yanked her shirt off and grabbed a handful of her tit. “But I got to work out. It keeps me sane, and you seemed comfortable.”
I bent down and wrapped my mouth around her pretty pink nipple and sucked hard. She grabbed my hair in the back, pulling it and drawing its length through her fingers. I’d been thinking of shaving it again, until now.
“I want you to trust me, Aly-cat. I want to be tough for you, but I can’t do that if my head isn’t right. Do you get that?”
My hand worked her other tit, kneading it, flicking her tight, hard nipple as I plundered her mouth. Her creamy skin was pinking up everywhere I touched, and my cock kept getting harder.
Her lips broke from mine. “I get it, Jake. I do. I wasn’t mad.” She moved her hand out from my hair to my cheek, her soft palm grazing my stubble. “I wasn’t mad. You don’t always have to think you did something wrong. I had work stuff going on. That’s all.”
My cheek prickled under her touch and my heart tumbled with emotion. Yes, my bad-ass black heart tumbled.
Aly
Jake was a little boy stuck in a grown man’s body—except when it came to sex. When it came to feelings and emotions, he was stunted. Even though I’d felt like a jilted schoolgirl that morning when I woke up and he wasn’t there, he was obviously pained over leaving me to do something he so obviously had to do.
My shielded heart broke for the man in front of me. I’d always envisioned falling in love, but never imagined doing it with a needy bad boy. In my dreams, the man I fell for was stable, predictable, and soft. Not rough and brisk.
“You know what? Let’s go have that drink and dinner.” Jake released me, then efficiently tucked my boobs back into my bra and slipped my shirt back over my head.
“Okay,” I said hesitantly, thoroughly confused. What was happening? Hilary had texted me that morning about coming to visit, and the prospect of it was feeling more necessary. I needed advice, and not the kind I could ask about at work. The questions I had were way too personal to ask someone I worked with.
Jake gathered my hands in his and gave a light squeeze. “It’s a good thing, Al. I want you, don’t you worry, but just realized I wanted to slow shit down. I don’t want to pressure you. I want to, I don’t know . . . hear about your day. I’m going soft.” He winked and led me back downstairs, where he opened the oven and peeked in.
“Lasagna?” His eyes lit up and a huge grin transformed his face.
“You eat that?” I asked.
“Of course. Not often, but my mom used to make it. It was one of the things my grandma would cook when I’d be sad . . . after they died.”
Reaching past him, I set the oven back to 350 and wrapped my arms around Jake’s waist. He’s lost so much, I thought as I leaned my cheek against his chest.
He kissed the top of my head, his lips lingering and tickling my hair. “I tried not to be sad, really hard. Mostly, I didn’t show my feelings. If I was having a shitty day, I’d either beat the crap out of Lane or one of my buddies, but every so often, shit would rain down on me. I’d get so overwhelmed or sad, and my grandma would make lasagna. It always helped.”
“This is my mom’s recipe,” I murmured against his chest. “I hope you like it. Before she lost her memory, she’d always show me how to make something new on Sunday. Even when I was little, we’d cook on Sunday for the week, and she’d let me do little things to help. It was just her and me against the world, and letting others in was hard. No one really got it other than my college roommate, Hilary.”
He squeezed me tighter to him, his heart beating like a wild drum inside his chest, mine playing in rhythm with his. Even our breathing was in sync. It had only been a few weeks, months if you went all the way back to Christmas Eve, but it felt so right.
“How about that wine?” he asked.
I’d gone to the grocery store and liquor store on Monday, and I had to admit it was much easier taking the bus from Highland Park there than from Oakland. I also felt like an adult and not a student when I went. Thanks to Jake.
“Sounds good.” When I placed a small kiss over his heart, he tipped my head, touching our foreheads.
“Good,” he whispered. Releasing me, Jake looked through the cabinets until he found the glasses we’d used the other night. I’d put them in the cabinet next to the plates he’d brought and bowls I’d discovered. When I raised an eyebrow, he said, “What?”
“Tell me the truth. Did you do all this for me?” After handing him a bottle of wine, I gestured around me at all the furnishings. When he didn’t respond, I asked, “Well?”
I wasn’t going to let it go, even though he was acting like opening up the bottle of wine was the hardest thing he’d ever done. “Jake?”
“Yeah, I did,” he said in a low voice, avoiding my eyes as he pulled the cork from the bottle.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just felt I had to. Let it go, Legs.” He brought me a glass filled with dark red cabernet and held it to my lips, tipping it so some of the liquid slid down my throat.
“Mmm.”
“More?” he asked.
I nodded, but took the stem of the glass from his hand. “I’m a big girl. I can drink all on my own.”
He tickled my rib cage. “Oh yeah?”
Laughter came spilling from me, and Jake chuckled along. Maverick started yipping at our feet, so Jake tossed him up in his arms, and that was how we spent our time until the lasagna was ready. Wine in hand, tickling each other, and laughing at the puppy’s antics.
Over dinner, he gave me a pointed look. “Bowling tomorrow, you know.”
“Oh no! Not again?” I said, feigning shock. We were sitting side by side at the buffet, and he had turned to face me, drawing my legs between his.
“Again.” He reached over and took my hand, turning it over in his before he leaned closer, as if he were going to share a secret. “I’m going to help you so we don’t lose,” he whispered against my hair.
“Oh yeah?” I flipped my hand in his and ran my finger over his palm.
“Yep. When it’s your turn, I’m going to come up behind you and position you just right, then help you swing your ball exactly how you need to. You’re going to have to be still, though, because if you shake your ass too much, my cock is going to get hard.”
“Jake.” I smacked playfully at his arm as heat crawled up my neck to my cheeks.
“Oh, I’ll definitely have a chubby to begin with, but if you move that tight ass just an inch, my big guy will be ready to play.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that,” I said seriously with my face on fire. “Maybe I’ll wear baggy bell-bottoms to go with the seventies theme? This way my butt and legs are adequately covered.”
He shook his head and ran his free fingers down my boots, which I just realized I still had on. “No, I like your sexy lawyer look very much.”
Tilting my head, I let my hair cover my growing embarrassment. “It’s called chic on a budget.”
“I don’t give a crap what it’s called. I like it.”
His hand wound under my hair, gathering me close, and he kissed me. We sat like that for a while, his hand massaging the back of my neck, his lips touching mine, saying without words what we didn’t voice out loud.