The Will (Magdalene #1)(119)

“Babe.”

I looked up at him.

“You’re the shit.”

I stopped thinking about Conner and Ellie and Mia and Amber and boys with motorcycles and smiled.

“Wish like f**k I could strip you bare and f**k you on my couch right about now.”

I stopped smiling and experienced a rather intense and exceptionally pleasant tingle.

His mouth dropped to mine and I felt as well as heard his next words. “Sucks the kids are in the next room.”

It most certainly did.

“Yes,” I breathed.

His lips brushed mine and then slid along my cheek to my ear where he whispered, “Take you again in your bed when I take you home tonight.”

My fingers clenched into his biceps when I whispered back, “Yes.”

“Really lookin’ forward to that, Slick.” He kept whispering.

“Me as well, Jake.”

“You gonna give me somethin’ to go on until then?” he asked.

I absolutely was.

I didn’t tell him that.

I gave it to him. Turning my head, he felt it, turned his, and our mouths collided.

In the end, it wasn’t entirely correct that I gave it to him. It was more that he took it from me.

But pressed tight to Jake Spear in his living room with his kids’ laptops and tablets and backpacks all around, being kissed dizzy, I didn’t mind him taking anything he wanted.

No.

I didn’t mind at all.

Because I’d give him anything.

I’d give him everything.

If I had the power, I’d give him the world.

* * * * *

“Um…that sweater…no,” boy Taylor decreed.

It was over an hour after the day’s latest debacle had finished and we were watching an interview with a quarterback who was wearing a cream lapelled cardigan that did him no favors.

Conner had not yet returned.

Jake nor I had shared what had occurred in the living room with the kids in the family room, although we did receive speculative glances.

I’d turned attention away from this curiosity by asking to see the photos of the Spear house prior to renovation and Ethan had run to get the envelopes of pictures. I’d then seen that Ethan was indeed correct. The house had been a “dump,” completely ramshackle. I shouldn’t have been surprised, yet I still was, that Jake had wrought miracles.

Now we were carrying on with football Sunday but without the food fest. Though Jake did say he was going to order pizza in about an hour.

“Indeed,” I agreed with boy Taylor. “He’s very pretty. Too pretty and he knows it. An African-American football player could pull off that sweater by sheer force of will. A rougher man, with, say, no neck and a crew cut, absolutely. A pretty man who knows he’s pretty, he simply looks ridiculous.”

“Totally,” girl Taylor agreed.

“I’m psyched Josie thinks he’s a pretty-boy. Everyone thinks he’s so hot. He does nothing for me and never has,” Amber put in just as I felt Jake move and then felt his lips at my ear.

“Uh…babe, just sayin’, that’s my team’s quarterback.”

I turned my head to look at him, uncertain why my assessment of the man’s looks and attire would mean anything regardless if he played for Jake’s team.

“And Ethan’s,” he finished when I caught his eyes.

It was then I looked to Ethan who was sitting on the couch, legs out, arms crossed, lips pressed tight, eyes glued to the television, looking fit to be tied.

I found this interesting.

Apparently my assessment of a man’s looks and attire did mean something if that man played for a beloved team.

“Taylors and Amber,” I called out. “We should cease insulting this man’s sweater. It’s upsetting Ethan.”

They all looked to Ethan.

“Sorry, Ethan,” girl Taylor said.

“Sorry, Eath,” boy Taylor said.

“Sorry, runt,” Amber said.

Ethan screwed up his face and glared at Amber.

“Don’t call me runt!” he snapped at his sister, uncharacteristically indignantly.

“Eath—” she started but Ethan looked to his father.

“Is Conner okay?” he demanded to know.

My insides melted.

He was possibly upset about our insulting his quarterback’s knitwear but he was more worried about his brother.

He was such a good child.

“He’ll be okay, bud,” Jake replied.

“That’s not okay now,” Ethan pointed out rather astutely.

And he was so very bright.

“You’re right, Eath,” Jake said gently. “But he will be.”

Ethan glared at his father for a long moment then demanded, “Promise?”

“Promise, son,” Jake promised.

Ethan kept glaring at his father before he turned his glare to the television and declared, “I’m never dating ever.”

Jake made a grunt that sounded like a swallowed chuckle and the Taylors and Amber grinned at each other.

“I’d like to rewind our afternoon and go over that safety business again,” I announced to change the subject and perhaps lighten the mood. “I know your father explained it to me when it happened but I fear it still makes little sense. Ethan, please expound on that explanation.”