“Jake?” I whispered.
He didn’t reply.
He’d rolled into me in his sleep.
I stared at the view and seeing that view, lying in that bed, Jake holding me in his sleep, it came to me that Gran gave this to me.
Gran gave it to me.
All of it.
She knew what she was doing from the very beginning.
So it was safe.
And it was mine.
On that thought, I felt the tension slide out of my shoulders and away from spine, my lips curved up, my body pressed back into the warm hardness of Jake’s and my eyelids dropped.
Thus on that thought, I fell asleep for the first time in over two decades doing it carefree.
And doing it happy.
Chapter Thirteen
She’d Like It a Fuckuva Lot
Jake opened his eyes and saw white ceiling and white cornices.
But he felt Josie’s hair all over his chest and shoulder, her cheek on his pec, her arm around his gut, the warmth of her soft body pressed to his side and the silk of her short nightie on his arm but his hand that was resting on her hip felt nothing but skin.
This was why he smiled.
His eyes caught on the pink of the walls and his mind brought up an image of that room which was almost all flowers, the armchair by the window, the cover on the bed, the toss pillows that were everywhere. The prints didn’t match but it worked in a girlie way that was definitely not him, it wasn’t even Josie, but it was Lydie. There were even faded pictures of flowers in frames on the walls.
With all that pink and all those flowers, it was a wonder his testosterone levels didn’t take a nosedive the instant he entered the room.
Then again, he could get it up for Josie anytime, anyplace. He knew that because he had to fight against getting hard at a f**king high school football game with just her pressed to his side.
He could definitely do it in a room filled with flowers.
He’d proved that last night.
And now.
He wanted her. He was ready for her. His mind was no longer on flowers but on the red silk nightie she was wearing.
His favorite color was blue but that red nightie was the absolute shit. Josie in it, her long hair down and even wet, her in that nightie was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
But he’d only had one condom in his wallet. He’d taken her without one in the locker room but until they had the conversation, that was all he was going to take.
Which sucked.
This meant he couldn’t have her again and with the day ahead, he wouldn’t be able to have her until that night.
So they had to have the conversation.
They just wouldn’t be having it now.
Last night, they’d taken a giant leap forward, a f**king awesome one. Even with that, he wasn’t going to start pushing her now.
To calm his shit down, he was trying not to think of her in that sexy as f**k dress she wore last night, sitting ringside for him, following him to the locker room, that look on her face, that heat in her pretty blue eyes, when she moved her head slightly on his chest.
He knew by the way it felt she wasn’t moving in her sleep but instead moving in a way she was trying not to wake him so he knew she was awake.
Therefore he tightened his arm around her and rolled them so he was resting partly on her front, partly down her side. He hitched a knee to spread her legs and rested it almost at the heat of her as he lifted his head and looked down at her face.
Fuck.
So f**king pretty.
Jake slid his hand up her side, over her chest, up her neck and gently spread her hair out, arranging it on the pillow, his eyes watching, and when he got what he wanted, he caught her gaze and whispered, “Mornin’, Slick.”
Her lips tipped up and she whispered back, “Good morning, Jake.”
At the sound of her voice, the feel of her under him, it hit him.
Christ, she was there. Under him. In a nightie. Her hair spread on the pillow. Her hands resting light on his lower back. He’d tasted her sweet pu**y. He’d f**ked it twice. He’d watched her come in the shower, giving it to her with his fingers. He’d swallowed her whimpers and moans. He’d felt her tighten around him every-fucking-where.
Ethan’s mom, Sloane had been the best he’d ever had.
Until Josie.
He’d never, not once, not even knowing how good Sloane could give it to him, lost his control like he had in the locker room last night.
And she’d delivered, along for the ride, clutching tight, pressing close, giving in and taking it.
In her bed later wasn’t better, but it was slower, sweeter and he liked the way she took him after he gave it to her.
Clutching tight.
Pressing close.
Holding on.
On this thought, he dipped his head and ran the side of his nose along hers. He felt her body soften further beneath him when he did and he knew in feeling it that he needed to get her ass out of bed, feed her, get her in clothes and get her to his house. If he didn’t, they’d be having the conversation he didn’t want to have yet.
She seemed good but he knew he had to slow shit down. Go gentle. Give her steady. This was a massive shift for her, seeing as she’d missed him going gently but taking them where they were now.
She wanted it, that was obvious. And they were there.
But that didn’t mean he still didn’t have to take it slow.
When he lifted his head, her hands started moving, gliding lightly up his sides then in over his chest, up his neck and at the feel of her touch he knew he seriously needed to get her out of that bed.
Then they slid up his neck and both cupped his jaw but one moved and she ran her thumb gently across the scar on his cheekbone.
“How did you get this?” she asked quietly.
“Bar fight,” he answered also quietly.
She blinked. “Not a fight fight?”
He shook his head.
“You were in a bar fight?” she asked.
He didn’t want to get into this with her, not now. Shit like this was for when she was eating an omelet with him or her ass was in his truck and he was taking her to dinner.
But he’d kept enough from her, the rest he had to give her honestly.
“Donna liked attention,” he told her. “When we started, we’d go out, she had me but she still went for it. A guy gave it to her. I didn’t like that. I made that clear. He was an ass**le. Shit degenerated, both of us spent the night in the tank and I got that scar.”
She didn’t look surprised anymore.
She looked pissed.
It was cute.
And sweet.
“She sought male attention even in your company?” she asked, her melodic voice going hard.