Page 54 of Into the Dark
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, baby. You just name it.” He laughs sexily.
“Completely naked, sexually deviant house slave then?” I suggest.
He laughs again. “Yeah. Sounds about right. You forgot cover-hogging, but I’ll let it slide. So, do my duties include…bedroom activities?”
“I should bloody hope so. That’s sort of a core requirement. I’ll be wanting you naked and eager and my dinner on the table when I get home.” I glance around to make sure I’m still alone. “If not, there will be disciplinary action.” I use my most professional tone. My work voice, as he calls it.
“Yes, doctor,” he practically growls.
“Good. Now I have to dash. Enjoy the rest of your day, you two. See you later?”
“Naked and eager,” he confirms before hanging up.
When I look down at the small antique face of my watch I see I have about seven minutes to get back to the surgery before my next appointment. While I dash down the tidy suburban streets of Streatham I call to make my appointment with the doctor, which they can fit in a week from today. Not bad, comparatively speaking. Waiting times for appointments at ours are about ten days at the moment.
In reception I find Mr. Winston announcing himself at the desk. I give him my most reassuring smile as I pass, telling him I’ll be out to get him in just a moment. He beams at me and hobbles off to take a seat.
In my office, I hang up my jacket and quickly call up Mr. Winston’s file on my computer. His hemorrhoids are back, I bet. It’s been six months since his last flare-up. Lovely. I push my baby brain to one side and focus instead on Mr. Winston’s anal canal. Should be easy enough.
It takes me just under thirty minutes to get home, the traffic abnormally quiet. Jake’s car is parked in my driveway when I arrive, and it settles and relaxes something deep in my bones.
Except there’s something new there. Anxiousness. A sliver of guilt. Keeping something this huge from him feels wrong. Deceitful in a way. What if he figures it out before I’m ready to tell him? What if the revelation is somehow clear on my face or my body? It will be soon enough, I’m sure. My hand moves across my tummy as I try to feel for anything new or altered that might catch his attention. The changes are all happening inside. Not just my body, but my brain too.
As soon as I step inside the house something feels off. An eerie silence, no movement from downstairs at all. Fear blows over me, sudden and cold.
“Jake? Are you here?” I freeze at the foot of the stairs, heart thundering. Upstairs I hear a snick of movement, and my head snaps up toward the sound.
“Baby, I’m up here,” his voice calls down to me.
Oh, thank god. My body softens with relief and my heart rate slows as I drop my keys and bag by the door and move toward the kitchen.
“Okay, I’m just going to feed Fred,” I call up to him.
“Already did it. Get your arse up here!” he shouts back.
“Um, okay…” I turn back and climb the stairs hesitantly. “What’s going on? Am I in trouble?” I ask when I reach the top of the stairs. I creep down the corridor toward my bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, but I can’t hear any movement inside.
When I push the door open, my hand comes up to my mouth to cover my gasp.
What on earth?
The room is filled with red and white roses. Everywhere. On every surface, from the tallboy to the nightstands, the window ledges, the dressing table, and then just around the floor in those little self-contained vases made of cellophane. There are perhaps two dozen bouquets, maybe more. And Jake is standing by the foot of the bed, naked, wearing nothing but the sexiest, most adorable grin on his face.
I can’t decide whether to look at the flowers or him. His body looks lean and powerful in all its glorious nakedness. But there are so many flowers. And he did this. I can’t believe he did this. I feel breathless. My hand is still up at my mouth, so I lower it, the smile spreading wide over my face, my cheeks hot and heart beating fast.
“What did you do?” I whisper.
He gives me a look of uncertainty and nods. “It’s too much—trust me, I know that. Took me fucking ages to get them all upstairs.” He looks around.
“Did you steal these from Ed and Betty’s garden?”
He smiles. “Most of them, yeah. Fuck, were they pissed off.” He runs a hand over his mouth and nods. “Ed seemed like a nice guy the other day, but you should see him when someone goes near his rosebush—guy is fucking mental. You might have to move. Sorry.”
“I honestly can’t believe you did this.” I shake my head. Where the hell did he get them all? He went into a shop and ordered twenty-four bouquets of roses? He actually did that? When I bring my eyes back to him, he stands a little taller. Then he walks toward me, stopping a few feet in front of me.
“I just realized today that I haven’t done anything romantic for you since we met,” he says, frowning. “Not a single fucking thing. Then I remembered I sent you flowers twice. It worked too. It got you to go out with me—even if you did stand me up in the end. But I don’t like to focus on the dark shit, as you know.” He winks. “They were a pretty good jumping-off point, I thought.” He closes the distance and slides his hands around my waist.
“They were.”