Page 85 of Into the Dark
As I stroke my hand over the hand resting on his chest Jake stirs, his fingers shifting to link through mine. When his eyes finally flutter open, framed by those long, thick lashes, he smiles. But then he casts a look down my body and frowns.
“Why are you dressed?” he croaks, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“I went for a run. Got croissants on the way back—they’re warming downstairs. Coffee’s brewing too.”
“Jesus, not those chocolate ones?” he asks, and I nod. “You really fucking want me to move in, don’t you? Pulling out the big guns.” He smiles, wrapping an arm around me to tug me down onto him.
“Damn, you saw through my plan. Note to self: get a new plan.” I smile, kissing him again.
“Mmm, can the new plan be you walking around naked all the time? Oh, and a promise that I get to fuck you wherever and whenever I want within these four walls? That’d probably do it, to be honest,” he states.
I shake my head. “Do you ever think of anything but sex?”
“Course I do. I think about those fucking croissants.” He gazes off into the distance behind me. “I think about them a lot.”
I giggle before attempting to extract myself from his arms. “Ugh, let me up. I need to go shower—I stink.”
“You smell hot to me.” He makes another “mmm” noise and pushes his nose into my neck sniffing loudly.
“You’re a deviant.”
“You’re one to talk…” He chuckles, slipping his hand into the back of my running bottoms and squeezing my butt. “Let’s just stay naked for a bit? I’m hard, baby…”
“Jake, you’re always hard,” I point out. “But do you really want all that chocolate to harden? Cold, hard croissants—really? You know they taste so much better warm and soft and hot…” I whisper seductively.
He groans in frustration. “Yeah, but I know something else warm and soft and hot… Let me eat that instead?” he murmurs sexually against my ear, his voice thick with sleep and something else now.
My thighs tighten as I consider surrendering to him even in my filthy post-run state. “I’ll still taste the same later. Actually, I’ll taste better later. Ken’s croissants won’t,” I moan, closing my eyes to enjoy the feel of his mouth dragging hotly down my neck. “I can’t anyway because I have so much to do today.” I peel myself carefully out of his arms and stand up from the bed, much to his grumbling disappointment. “I have a picnic to organize, and then I need to get going to Epsom for a Venetian slideshow. Rob’s back from honeymoon today. Well, late last night she got back, but I said I’ll be there by eleven.” I check my watch.
“A picnic?” He smiles, confused.
I nod. “How else am I going to get your son to love me if not by feeding him all his favorite foods? Which are, by the way…?”
He smiles deeper and shakes his head. “He’s going to love you, Alex, food or not. You’re his type.”
“His type?”
He chuckles. “You’ll see.”
“Okayyyy, so what doesn’t he eat then? And what does he really like to eat?” I ask, shimmying out of my running pants, which I have to peel from my clammy skin.
“Actually, he’s really good with eating. He’ll eat anything you put down for him, to be honest. Except Brussels sprouts, but most kids won’t touch them, so.” He shrugs.
“Okay, don’t pack Brussels sprouts. That’s helpful.” I frown. “Well, I’m going to shower and get dressed. Coffee should be ready in five. Fancy eating in the garden?”
He nods and raises himself up from the bed, stretching his arms over his head. The muscles click loudly as he twists them at an angle. “So do you want me to come to Rob’s with you? Then we’ll go get Caleb together,” he asks, scratching a hand over his head before dragging it down over his beard. The sound of his facial hair being rubbed at is rough and scratchy. I remember how it feels between my thighs and tremble slightly.
“Um, no, that’s okay. It’ll just be girl chat anyway,” I say. And by “girl chat,” I mean I need to tell her I’m carrying your child and ask her what the hell I should do about it. “I thought I’d just come meet you both in the park later.”
Jake nods his affirmation. “So, girl chat—is that like when you talk about how sex feels now she’s married? Does it feel different? Does it exist?” A smile plays over his mouth.
“Wow, you really know women, don’t you?” I shake my head in feigned awe before pulling my T-shirt over my head.
“Not really. I don’t know a fucking thing about women,” he concedes. Scrubbing his hand roughly over his face again, he starts toward me, and my undressing is halted by the sight. Naked and perfectly erect, he shows not an ounce of self-consciousness as he strides across the bedroom. Sexually arrogant, godlike masculinity oozes from his every pore. I can almost smell it. It’s entirely unfair for a man to look this glorious first thing in the morning.
When he stops in front of me, he slides his arms around me and buries his mouth in my neck once more. “This is how you smell after sex, by the way, except a bit sweeter. Drives me fucking mental,” he whispers against my ear.
“So I smell sweaty and disgusting after sex? Good to know,” I groan.