Page 43 of A Dark Fall
“Technically not on me. Beside me,” I joke.
He grins, scrubbing a hand through his bed hair. “Well, I’m sorry anyway.”
“You were tired. I covered you.” I shrug. Seriously? I may as well have told him I’m carrying a watermelon.
“All that pent-up frustration, I guess ...” he says with a small smirk.
I swallow, mouth flooding with want all over again. Neither of us speak for a few heavy seconds, until I clear my throat.
“So, I’ll get you coffee then. And some toast.” I nod and move toward the door. I hear him sigh quietly.
“Okay if I use your shower?” he asks.
Jake in my shower, naked and wet.
“Of course. There’s one in there, and towels in the cabinet next to the sink.” I indicate my en suite. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m in the kitchen blowing over my scalding coffee when I hear him coming down the stairs. I’m not fully prepared for the weird flip my tummy does when he strides into the kitchen looking fresh, clean, and his hair still damp from the shower. He looks better every time I see him, I think. It’s unnerving.
He stares at me as he rubs his wet hair with my fluffy cream towel.
“It might be a little cold now, sorry.” I indicate the plate of buttered toast. “I can stick some more on if you want.”
He picks up a slice and takes a large bite, chewing happily. “It’s perfect, thanks.”
“Coffee’s in the pot. Milk and sugar are there.”
I watch as he pours himself a cup and immediately lifts it to his mouth. No milk or sugar. I wonder then if maybe he’s a soya or almond milk person, which, given his physique, would make sense. He sips quietly as he takes another bite of his toast, eyes flicking between his cup and me, then around my kitchen.
Weirdly, the silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Hot, definitely. Heavy too, the tension between us still there, still loud. It feels different though. Less dangerous, but more intense somehow, memories of last night so vivid as I stand looking at him.
“You have a gorgeous place, by the way,” he says, taking me completely by surprise. He turns his head out through the French doors to my garden.
“What—? Oh, thank you.” The garden does look gorgeous right now. It’s rosebushes and wildflowers bathed in buttery orange sunlight.
“I kinda imagined you living somewhere like this. Somewhere nice, you know? Quiet.” He looks back at me.
“Isn’t ‘quiet’ just a polite way of saying ‘boring’?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m polite?”
I laugh into my cup, cooler now as I lift it to my mouth.
“You happy here?” he asks, making me blink.
“Um, yes, I am.”
His eyes flicker with some unnamed emotion before he nods once. “I’d really love to get out of London,” he sighs. “Gets you down sometimes, you know? So big yet so fucking small at the same time.” He sounds tired. Though, Jake strikes me as a true London boy. I couldn’t imagine him anywhere else.
“I do know. I lived there for a bit. I mean, it’s a great city. So much happening all the time. It can sometimes feel like the center of the universe. But I guess I fancied a bit of peace and quiet.” I shrug my shoulders.
“When did you live in London?” His eyes are wide with interest.
“During my residency at Tower Hamlets—so, like, four years ago.”
He nods. “Whereabouts?”
“Islington.”