Naked Love(67)

“I’m so incredibly sorry,” I say as we follow Jake’s truck out of the parking lot.

“You have no reason to apologize for this.” Sydney exhales, staring out her window.

“But if he doesn’t make it—”

“Then he doesn’t make it.” She sniffles.

*

Jake opens Sydney’s door for her when we pull into Megan’s driveway. He shows her to the guest bedroom, gets her clean towels, and offers to make her something to eat.

I watch the man I’ve fallen in love with treat my sister like family, like he’s known her forever. Jake’s compassionate side blinds me, wraps itself around my heart, and infiltrates my soul.

“I’m not hungry, but thank you, Jake.” Sydney’s smile falters. “I’m going to try to get a little sleep in case Megan calls about Swarley before morning.”

“Night.” She gives me one more hug before disappearing into the guest bedroom.

We play with Megan’s dogs for a few minutes before taking turns using the shower. I tell him to go first because I need a longer shower, the kind that washes away these desperate emotions—the fear of what’s to come. By the time I emerge from the steamy bathroom, wearing Jakes shirt—

My heart has no room for you,

but the trunk of my car definitely does.

—he’s changed the sheets on Megan’s bed. Perched on the side with his tattooed back to me, his thumbs ghost across his phone screen.

“Megan?”

Jake looks over his shoulder as I crawl onto the bed behind him. “Nice shirt.” He smirks.

“You should see what’s underneath it.” I match his grin.

“Are you texting Megan?”

He shakes his head and sets his phone on the nightstand. “Deedy. But I think she was in the middle of doing something. She seemed a little short and frustrated in her replies. Said she needed fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to finish up.”

I hug his back and kiss his shoulder. “What do you think she was doing?”

“Your dad.”

“What? Ew …” I push away and fall onto my back, covering my head with a pillow. “No. Yuck! That’s so wrong. Why would you say that?”

Laughter rumbles from his chest as he tugs the pillow away from me. I cover my eyes with the heels of my hands as he covers my body with his, nestling his narrow hips between my legs.

A satisfied grin slides up his face when I uncover my eyes. “You have nothing on under my shirt.” Restrained by his boxer briefs, his erection nudges me like an arrow pointing due north.

“Just …” My breath evaporates from my chest. He does that. Jake is a thief who takes breaths, slays words before they fall from my lips, and steals hearts.

Yeah, he’s stolen my heart.

“Just what, Ave?” He pushes my shirt—his shirt—up, eyeing my exposed breasts and wetting his lips. Raw masculinity delivers his words. Even on a whisper, his deep voice reverberates along my skin.

Commanding.

Arresting.

Seductive.

I shiver with anticipation seconds before everything burns with need. Jake doesn’t just reside in my head and my heart. He lives in every cell of my body.

“I’m not bad at sex.”

He grins. It’s arrogant for two seconds before his eyes shine with something that feels like adoration—maybe even love.

“No? Would you like to back that statement up with proof?”

My head eases side to side. “I want to give you a massage.”

“A massage?” His thick eyebrows lift up on his forehead a bit.

“Yes. I’m good at it. I want you to know I’m good at something.”

“Your fingers are injured.”

I hold up my hand, bending and flexing my fingers several times without pain, but a stiffness remains. They may never be the same, since I left town instead of visiting a physical therapist. “But I’m fine.”

After several slow blinks, his grin returns.

“Jake …” I close my eyes on a weak protest as he plants open-mouth kisses along my neck, rocking his pelvis an inch—an inch that draws a sharp breath from my chest. “I’m serious.”

He takes his time dragging his skillful mouth up my neck, along my jaw, halting at the corner of my mouth.

The Jake Effect feels like what I’ve always imagined resurrection to feel like—minus the throbbing need between my legs.

Dear Heavenly Father,

Please forgive me for thinking of you and an orgasm in the same thought. But if we’re not meant to have this kind of pleasure—a lot—then why give women a clitoris with over 8,000 nerve endings? DOUBLE what you gave the penis! Sometimes I feel like we just walk around trying to act normal—human—when all we really want to do is have an orgasm because it’s the BEST feeling. Why make it so amazing? And if it’s only meant for reproduction, then why does it feel good all the time? Why not make it feel good only when the body is primed to reproduce? Did you mess up? I mean … you created the world. THE WORLD! Surely you could have put this pleasure mechanism on a timer. Why leave cookies in a cookie jar if we’re not supposed to eat cookies all the time?

On that note … my research has led me to discover that a lot of the animal kingdom masturbates, so what’s up with that? I thought humans and their insatiable sexual needs possibly stemmed from the fiasco in the Garden of Eden, but that doesn’t explain the animals. Any who … just things that will need to be explained when I see you someday.