More Than This (More Than, #1)(36)

It’s quiet for a moment, while I lean my head on his shoulder.

“Tell me more about it? Australia I mean, we didn’t get to travel much, I’ve never been out of America. We had always planned on going to The Philippines for a family holiday, that’s where Mom’s dad was from, my mom’s half Filipino.”

“Aaah, always wondered where you got that amazing color from,” he says, rubbing my arm with the back of his finger.

I nudge him, “So…? Tell me about it.”

“Okay, umm… let’s see..” He looks to the roof contemplating.

I stand up to get another beer from the fridge.

“Shit,” I groan. “We’re out of beer.”

“What? No way!” He comes behind me to look. “Crap, well, we got champagne?”

I pout. “I can’t have champagne without ice.”

“To the ice machine!” he announces, one hand on his waist, the other in the air like he’s a fricken superhero. I laugh and jump on his back, grabbing the ice bucket on the way out.

“We call sandals ‘thongs’,” he says, turning his head so he can face me.

“WHAT?!” I laugh.

“Yeah, the first time I came back, I was living with my Aunt and Uncle, and this girl invited me to her house for a pool party. The whole class was there. I had taken my ‘sandals’ off just outside the pool, and when I went to get out I asked this smoking’ hot, for like 13, girl to hand them to me, except I said to her ‘chuck us me thongs!’” I throw my head back in laughter so hard, he loses balance and has to readjust himself, and then me. “After that, people kept teasing me, telling me I wore thongs, which in Australia is called a g-string, just FYI. Anyway, it took me like, a good two months to convince people that I didn’t wear thongs, and that I was asking for sandals.”

I’m all out laughing now, and I’m glad he’s holding on to me because if he weren’t, I’d be rolling around on the floor.

“Mikayla, is that you?” I look up to see Lisa's mom smiling at me.

I get down from Jake's back to give her a hug, trying to hide that I’m buzzed, or wasted. Probably closer to wasted.

“Hi Mrs. Jennings, what a lovely ceremony.”

“Oh yes, dear, it was. Now, Lisa told me what happened, I’m so sorry. I would have been at the funeral but unfortunately we can’t leave Albert alone anymore.”

“That’s fine, I understand.” I smile at her.

“It’s so good to see you can still smile and laugh, dear. Your parents would be happy.” She looks to Jake. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Oh, he’s not-"

What is he? I look up at him, he’s eyeing me, waiting for my reaction, goofy look on his face. I laugh a little, and take his hand.

“This is my Jake,” I say proudly.

Jake eyes me sideways, a smirk on his lips, then shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He holds up the ice bucket. “I’ll get the ice and meet you back in the room,” he states, before walking away.


When I get back in the room, the ice bucket is filled and sitting near the bottle of champagne on the little dining table.

I can hear the shower running. Wierd.

I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for him to get out.

When he does, my jaw drops. He’s shirtless, with just sweatpants on. They ride low on his hips, so low you can see the band of his boxer briefs peeking out. He has a towel in one hand and he’s drying his still wet chest. The steam from the bathroom pours out through the open doorway and he shakes his head to rid some of the water. My mouth goes dry.

My fingers itch to reach out and run them over his stomach. I sit on them so I don’t get too tempted. My eyes are roaming his body and he has to know what I’m doing because he hasn’t moved since he walked out and noticed me. I must be wasted, because I’m positive that time definitely stops. Like, the second hand of a clock just decided I deserved some goddamn luck and let me just stare at this masterpiece of boy.

I’m rubbing my legs together, trying to ease some of the tension down there.

Then he moves and sits next to me on the bed.

So f*cking close to me that his bare arm is rubbing on mine. I can feel his heat against my side, and it’s not the only place I feel heat.

I’m a sick and twisted hornbag.

I’m too ashamed to look at his face, I don’t know what his reaction to my stare-athon is.

In my mind, this is what I look like: A giant St. Bernard, huffing and panting with sloppy drool falling out of my mouth, whimpering, like I need to lick and taste a giant bone inches from my face.

He can be my giant bone. Oh. My. God. Bone.

I should lick him.

Just his chest.

NO! I’m not that wasted.

Is he? Maybe he won’t remember if I just have one lick.

I start to turn to my side and face him, my eyes on his chest.

Do it…

“Kayla?”

“Mmm?” I’m literally eye licking him.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna have to ask you to take your shirt off so we’re even.”


  Chapter 21


Mikayla


I snap back to reality at that comment and jump back a bit.