Chapter 25
25
Three days later, Molly returned to Silkwood Crescent at Jake’s request, a box from her favorite delicatessen in hand. Jake opened the door before she even had the chance to ring the bell. He kissed her on both cheeks, then took her coat and hung it on the stand.
“I brought sustenance.”
His lips lifted a fraction as he accepted the box. “Sustenance sounds good.”
Molly followed him into the open-plan living area, where a low fire flickered in the grate, and as he set the food on the counter, all she wanted was to lounge on the sofa with a glass of wine and a wedge of brie and forget all about the outside world.
She studied him as he turned. With dark circles under his eyes and his beard scruffy, he looked exhausted. “Are you okay? You seem tired.”
He brushed aside her concern with his signature shrug. “Yeah. I just have a lot going on at the moment. Wine?”
“Thanks.”
He poured two glasses of red and handed one to her. “Here’s to new beginnings.” He lifted his glass and motioned to the box. “You going to do the honors?”
“Sure. Do you have a charcuterie board in this no-clutter kitchen of yours?”
Jake opened a cabinet and pulled out a slate-gray platter. “Will this do?”
“Perfect.” As Molly arranged the cheese, cured meat, breads, and quince paste, she felt Jake watching her.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly.
She looked up and smiled. “Thanks for inviting me.”
They sat in front of the fire, the delicious food between them and the mellow tones of Joni Mitchell flowing from the sound system. Satiated and with a wineglass dangling from her hand, Molly leaned back in her chair. “I love this song. I saw her sing it at the Grammys a while back.”
“Me too. What an amazing presence. I heard a busker sing it in French once. She was outside the patisserie where I worked and, I loved it so much that I asked her to sing it again.”
“Do you miss it?”
“What, Paris? At times.”
“Tell me about your life there. Ten years is a long time to stay on the other side of the world when you’re in your twenties.”
“There’s nothing much to tell. I went there on a working holiday… one job led to another, and before I knew it, I was buying my own place and running a kitchen.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Mostly. The pressure got a little intense at times. But…” Jake paused. “Anyway, I don’t like living in the past.”
Molly couldn’t help but feel he was holding something back—another life she’d never be privy to. However, she understood his hesitancy. Like most people, she had untold stories of her own, ones she didn’t want to be judged for by voicing them. It was a smart decision she’d made after one too many heartbreaks. Now, she seldom talked about her past, even with her parents.
“I’d love to go there one day. To see the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. And eat the pastries, of course.”
He leaned forward to help himself to more cheese. “You should. It’s an experience, that’s for sure. Actually, I have to go back soon, just for a few weeks, to tie up some loose ends.”
Her version of Ava entered Molly’s thoughts before she could stop it. Was she one of the loose ends Jake referred to? In a parallel universe, she would have suggested she tag along, but besides no invitation being extended, her credit card wouldn’t support her flying to Auckland, let alone Europe, at that moment. “Have you booked?”
“Not yet.”
She glanced around the room. It was past time to change the subject, and with the fire now no more than a smolder, the air held a slight chill. “Do you have a bathtub?”
“That’s a random question.” He smiled. “Didn’t you snoop around the other morning when you were here alone?”
“Of course not. I don’t have one at my place, and I miss it.”
Jake rose from the chair and offered his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Barefoot, Molly followed him up the stairs and past closed doors until they reached the end of the hallway. He opened the door and flicked the switch.
“Wow.” She stepped inside, her eyes taking everything in.
Unpolished rustic tiles in a light clay tone covered the walls, and above a freestanding claw-foot tub, three naked light bulbs hung from the ceiling on black cords.
Jake crossed the room and opened the shutters, then stood back and turned off the lights. She stepped forward and placed a hand on the windowpane. Through a narrow corridor framed by silk trees and over the rooftops of hill suburb homes, the lights of a container ship were barely visible in the waters of Carter Bay.
She turned to Jake, the view through the window captured in three iron-framed hexagonal mirrors on the wall behind him. “This is one of the most gorgeous bathrooms I’ve ever seen. Do you use it much?”
“Sometimes… especially after I’ve been out surfing. The view has a moodiness to it in the winter, when the trees are bare, but I especially like the summer feel of it—when the silk trees bloom. It was the only room they hadn’t renovated, so I was able to put my own stamp on it. The design reminds me of my bathroom in Paris. Shall I fill it for you?”
“Would that be okay?”
“If you let me watch.”
As his expression softened, Molly imagined him naked and relaxed as he reclined in the tub after an invigorating day in the water. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
“Maybe.” Smiling, Jake turned on the faucet and rummaged through the cabinet below the basin. He pulled out a bottle of bubble bath and tipped several drops under the stream of water. “I bought you something today. It’s in my room.”
“Me?” she asked before following him along the hallway to his bedroom, where he handed her a small gift bag from his nightstand. She peeked inside and pulled out a blush-colored satin robe.
“It’s for sleepover nights.” Jake pulled her closer, gathered the hem of her sweater, and tugged it off over her head. As his lips found her throat, she stilled, immediately excited by his touch.
Molly clasped her hands around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”
“The color caught my eye.” Jake kissed her on her forehead and pulled away. “I better go check the water before we have a flood on our hands.”
Molly stood beside his bed, the ache between her legs so intense that if he didn’t touch her soon, she’d be forced to do it herself.
The ping of his phone echoed along the hallway, making her wonder who’d text him this time of night. Not that it was any of her business. Nothing about him was her business. They were merely two people enjoying each other’s company for however long they had together.
She undressed fully, slipped on the robe—its silky fabric like erotica against her skin—and draped her clothes over the leather armchair. When she returned to the bathroom, Jake looked up from the stool he sat on, his phone in one hand. He smiled softly. “Suits you.”
“Thanks.”
Jake set his phone on the vanity, slipped the robe from her shoulders, then stood behind her and gathered her hair in his hands. He secured it in a high ponytail with a hair tie, then kissed her nape.
Molly stepped into the tub and submerged herself in the water, the streetlights of the city unobtrusive through the window as candles flickered in the corner of the room. Jake sat on the stool beside the bath, picked up a dog-eared paperback from the floor, and placed it in the basket at his feet.
“What’s the book?”
“Just something I brought back from the UK.”
“Tell me the story? And make it interesting.”
Jake frowned. As a man of few words, he probably wasn’t much of a storyteller. In fact, he’d told her little about his past, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested.
“Okay. I was in Wales once, Cardiff?—”
“I’ve always wanted to go to the UK. To see Buckingham Palace and The Ritz and visit my cousins in London.”
He held her gaze and offered a slight smile.
“Sorry… continue.”
“Anyway, I came across this quirky little bookstore where a young woman was doing a book signing. I strolled past at first, but a while later I noticed she still had a stack of books left in front of her.”
“So what did you do?”
“Naturally, I stopped, and we started talking. In the end, I bought a copy simply because I felt sorry for her. Much later, I discovered she was a big deal on social media for her poems on life and relationships.”
“Read me something.”
He screwed up his face. “I hate reading out loud.”
“Please.”
Jake took a deep breath, picked up the book, and opened it to the marked page. He began to read, his voice clear and melodic. The poem told the story of a young woman who felt her man never saw past the physical, and its insightful words resonated deeply with Molly.
She relaxed back in the bubbles and closed her eyes, letting his poetic voice wash over her. And when he’d finished, neither of them spoke for several minutes.
“The other night, when I read that,” Jake said eventually, “it reminded me of you. Promise me, if I ever have my blinkers on, you’ll give me a shove.”
“Are you for real?” she whispered as she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She’d never had a guy read to her before, let alone from a heartfelt book of poetry while she lay in his bathtub surrounded by candlelight. How had this man come to mean so much to her in such a short space of time?
He leaned forward to kiss her. “Very real.” His hands moved to the buckle of his belt. “I’ll show you.”
Naked, Jake slipped in behind her, his long legs stretched out so she could nestle between them and arms draped along the rim of the tub. They discussed the poem—how words and their meanings could often be misconstrued.
With his hand on her chin and his desire pressing into the small of her back, Jake tilted Molly’s face side-on so he could kiss her—soft and warm yet so intense that she could scarcely hold on to the slim thread of reality she’d managed to grasp.
“You’re an amazing kisser,” he murmured, one hand lightly holding her throat as he stroked himself up and down against her buttocks. “It’s such a gift.”
“Thank you. You’re pretty good yourself.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Not at all. You’re everything I imagined and more.”
They kissed now with a ferocity that shocked her. And as Jake teased her with his fingers and she returned the favor, Molly realized that his idea of foreplay surpassed anything she’d ever experienced before.
He reached into the basket for a foil packet, ripped it open, and turned her around so she straddled him. He handed her the condom, and she gazed down at his erection rearing above the waterline.
Jake pulled the plug, and the water drained from beneath them. When she questioned him with a look, he smiled and said, “It’s better, believe me.”
As he entered her, that lazy smile of his spoke volumes. They rocked together, the porcelain of the tub still warm from the water and Jake so fully inside of her that it hurt in the most delicious way possible.
Jake slowed his pace to a stop. “Stand up, mon ange .”
Even though she had no idea what it meant, just the way he said it, his French enunciation caressing her ears like poetry, meant she’d do whatever he asked without question. With her hands on either side of the tub, she pushed herself to standing.
He stood on the floor behind her, putting him at the perfect height, and wrapped an arm around her at hip level. “Come closer.”
Molly pushed back into him and, at his whispered command, braced herself against the wall. And as they found their rhythm, he grasped her ponytail and gave it a gentle tug, several husky profanities falling from his lips as he followed her release.
She’d anticipated spending a lazy Sunday together, making pancakes and drinking coffee. Instead, Jake rose early and left for a prearranged surf with Todd. And as she lay alone in his room, the scent of his sex surrounding her and the sun shining almost too brightly through the half-open curtains, Molly couldn’t shake the feeling that he was struggling with his attraction to her.
Later, she drove down the hill, across town and into her street in silence, that morning-after feeling reminding her of moments from her past. She’d just walked through the front door when she spotted Gloria strolling across the garden toward her place. With a polite smile firmly pasted on her lips , Molly opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck. “Good morning.”
“Been for another sleepover with the chef, have you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.”
Gloria grinned and held out the package in her hands. “Here. Some courier outfit delivered this yesterday. Thought I’d better grab it in case it rained.”
“Thanks.” Molly checked the address label. It was the photo book she’d been expecting. “Got time for a quick coffee?”
“Not today, sorry. I’m off to brunch with my book club. We’re trying out that posh new winery on the way to the falls. But I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, yes?”
“Look forward to it.”
As soon as Gloria left, excited to see the finished product, Molly tore open the courier package and removed the book from its bubble wrap. And as she leafed through its pages, reminiscing about her brief time with Jesse Sinclair, she couldn’t get over how happy he looked.
She thought about Jesse less often now. Not only because Jake had asked her not to compare him to his twin but also because their personalities were so very different, it made it easier to separate the two.
Even so, as she recalled old times portrayed in those pages, smiles and tears mingled into one. Because even though Molly would never deny that Jesse had been part of her life, however fleeting, as far as practicalities went, it was time to move on from that fated summer.