Rock Bottom Girl(137)
“I love you, Jake Weston,” I whispered.
He brushed his hand through my hair. “I love you, Marley Cicero.” His lips tickled my ear. I felt him go hard against me, but he didn’t make a move to tear my clothes off. He just held me like there was nothing else in the whole world he’d rather be doing.
“Where are we going to put the Christmas tree?” I asked, staring out the still curtain-less windows.
I felt him smile. “I think one in the living room and maybe a small one up here.”
“I’d like that,” I confessed.
Jake kissed my neck softly, sweetly, taking his time.
And I sank into that love, that goodness, that anticipation of all good things to come.
“Have you given any thought to whether you want to be Mrs. Cicero or Mrs. Weston?” he asked, sliding his hand under my sweater to cup my breast.
Epilogue
Marley
“Are you guys getting up?” the long-suffering voice demanded through the door.
“It’s summer,” I groaned. Next to me, Jake pulled the comforter over his head and snuggled closer.
“It’s not summer. It’s graduation. Tomorrow it’s summer.”
“Being a teacher is hard,” I moaned into the pillow. I’d survived an entire school year as a gym teacher. Okay, admittedly, I had it easier than most of the faculty. But still. I’d been getting up early since August. I felt that I deserved a late morning with my handsome boyfriend.
“It’s noon. You guys have two hours to eat, shower, and make yourselves presentable.”
“She’s not going to go away,” Jake yawned.
“Do you ever feel like she’s more our legal guardian than we are hers?” I asked him.
“Only every day,” he said with a sleepy laugh before pulling a pillow over his head.
Grumbling, I stumbled out of bed, pulled on pajama pants and a t-shirt, and opened the door.
Libby smirked at me. “Look at you, all picture-perfect.”
“Shut your face, smarty pants. What are you so excited about, anyhow? You still have an entire year of the horrors of high school left.”
“My friends that you forced me to make are graduating today. So, really, my excitement and your 12:05 p.m. wake-up call are your own fault.” She pushed a mug of coffee into my hands.
“Bless you, child. You don’t by chance have five or six other siblings we could foster, do you? The lawn’s getting a little tall, and it would be nice to have a designated kid for garbage takeout,” I mused.
I followed her downstairs and paused to give Homer a sloppy good morning kiss. “I’ll walk you tonight, buddy, and we’ll stop for ice cream,” I promised him.
He grumbled his excitement at me.
Libby grabbed her laptop that Jake had bought her for her birthday in the spring. “Now that one of you is vertical, I’m going to hang out on the porch for a bit.”
“Obsessing about colleges again?” I teased. One of the best things about becoming Libby’s legal guardians was telling her that college was on the table if she wanted it to be. Our normally cool and collected kid had squealed her girlish delight and hugged us off and on for three days straight. Since then, she’d researched every single college and university on the East Coast. Libby had narrowed her list down to twelve schools.
“Maybe,” she grinned.
“I’ll make you a sandwich.” I waved her off and rummaged through the fridge and crafted three delectable Lebanon bologna sandwiches. I delivered Libby’s sandwich to her and jogged upstairs with the other two.
Jake was snoring softly in our bed so I helpfully whipped open the curtains, flooding the room with light.
“Lunch delivery,” I said cheerfully, sliding his plate onto the nightstand. “If you don’t wake up and eat it in two minutes, Homer will take care of it for you.
“Mmmph,” Jake said. But his hand snaked out from the covers and grabbed my wrist. “Come back to bed.”
Was there anything sexier than bed-headed sex god Jake Weston beckoning me under the covers? No. Was I falling for it when I had an hour and a half to get myself ready for my first high school graduation ceremony as an adult? Apparently yes.
I let him tow me under the covers, let him wrap me in his inked arms. I relished the heat of his body against mine. The feel of his skin as it stroked over mine. The taste of his mouth. The rough of his jaw as it abraded my neck and shoulder.
He cupped my breasts as I straddled him. Together we were two lovers lost and found. His eyes, that bright, hard green, glinted as he drove into me. I was always ready for him, always wanting him. I marveled at the thought that I almost missed out on this. That I almost chose a sad apartment and a stressful job over Jake. Over this home. This family we cobbled together.
“I love you, Mars,” Jake said as he leisurely thrust into me. He savored me. Worshiped me. Loved me.
And I welcomed it. Welcomed him into me so we were as close as two people could be.
“Jake,” I breathed.
“Come, Marley,” he ordered. The cords in his neck stood out as he held on to control while I rocked against him.
We linked fingers on the mattress. We were in this together. Coming apart together.