40. Coraline
40
CORALINE
The boat ride back feels like a dream.
I bask in the post-orgasm bliss, a blanket of drowsiness wrapped around my shoulders. The kind of sleepy haze that comes from two amazing orgasms and a morning spent in the sun. I can’t help the contented sigh that escapes my lips, the sound barely louder than the rhythmic splash of the oars cutting through the water. I steal a glance at Jasper, his strong arms moving with an easy grace, and my heart does a funny little flip. There’s a quiet understanding between us, a comfortable silence that feels almost foreign. It’s like we’ve crossed some invisible line, and now we’re here, in this peaceful place where words aren’t necessary.
Jasper secures the boat and steps out, turning to offer me his hand. I take it, feeling the warmth of his fingers as they wrap around mine. He helps me onto the rocks, and our fingers stay laced together as we walk along the paved pathway back to his house. His thumb gently strokes the back of my hand, sending a soft flutter through my chest.
We reach the house, and Pudding greets us at the door with a chorus of meows, weaving figure-eights around our ankles.
“Someone missed you,” I muse, swallowing down my laughter.
Jasper bends down and scratches behind the cat’s ears. “You miss me, Pudding? Or did you miss lunchtime?” he murmurs, his voice soft. Pudding responds by rubbing his cheek against Jasper’s leg, the end of his tail curling over and swishing back and forth.
The fluffball purrs loud enough that I can hear him like he’s right next to my ear. “He sounds like a little motor.”
“Yeah, isn’t it great?” His face softens as he looks at his cat, scooping him up like a little football. He collapses onto the couch, pulling me down with him. Pudding scoots out of the way of my flailing limbs as I try to wriggle away with a laugh.
“We’re all wet from the lake,” I protest, eyeing the cushions. “I don’t want to get your couch dirty.”
His palms slide around my stomach and tug me back toward him. “You’re perfect, just sit with me for a few minutes. Besides, the cushions have washable covers. I wash them all the time because the cat has this annoying habit of bathing himself on the couch.”
“Alright, but don’t blame me if your couch smells like the lake,” I murmur, snuggling into the couch.
“Nah, it’ll smell like sweet cherries and vanilla. And lake water. It’s my new favorite scent,” he says, grabbing my ankles and sliding my legs over his lap.
I shake my head, but I don’t bother stopping the smile from spreading across my face. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“So you keep telling me.” He grabs the remote and turns on an action movie. The living room fills with the murmur of explosions and the occasional dialogue. I’m too blissed out to question the plot, my eyelids growing heavy. The warmth of his body and the gentle rhythm of Pudding’s purr and Jasper’s breaths lull me into sleep.
I wake to the sound of a phone ringing and the low hum of Jasper’s voice. My eyes flutter open, and he’s the first thing I see. Sitting up, with his phone held in front of his face. I don’t say anything right away, too busy blinking and trying to clear the post-nap haze.
“And have they reached out at all?” a female voice asks from his phone. He must be video-chatting someone.
Jasper hesitates. “Yeah, uh, Naomi has reached out a couple times.”
“Which one is that?”
“The younger one,” Jasper says, his voice low. “But I’m handling it, Ma. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Well, sorry, but I can’t help that. I’m always going to worry, and especially when it comes to your half-siblings. Who knows what your father has done to poison their minds,” she grumbles.
Jasper sighs, his gaze cutting toward me. We lock eyes for a second, and I can’t keep quiet any longer.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice a husky murmur.
“Jasper Vincent Devereaux. Do you have a guest over right now? And you answered the phone?!” the female voice exclaims, her voice loud and pitching high toward the end of her question.
Jasper smiles, dragging his hand over the bottom half of his face. “Yeah, Ma, I might.”
She tsks, the noise sharp and loud. It’s a reprimand if I’ve ever heard one. I like her already.
“I raised you better than that, son. You give your date your full attention,” she says with a little huff like she’s disappointed.
“Yeah, and you also taught me to always pick up the phone when you call,” Jasper deadpans, raising a single brow.
“Yes, well, that much is true too.”
She pauses a beat, the silence long enough to pique my curiosity. I don’t know what the protocol is yet for this, but I remember him mentioning something about video chatting with his mom. It’s the whole reason he wanted to fake date in the first place. I push to sit up, straightening my tee to make sure I’m covered.
Fuck, I’m still in the lake clothes. Which is precisely an oversized shirt and my panties.
This is literally the worst way to meet my boyfriend’s mom for the first time. Well, I guess the worst would be totally naked, so I guess this is at least better than that scenario.
“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me, son? And let me tell you right now, if you pan over to that damn cat of yours again, I’m flying out to your house tomorrow, and I’m bringing six eligible women for you to date.”
I smooth my hair back, finger-combing it a few times and hoping for the best.
Jasper chuckles, his smile tugging softly as he looks at his mom. “Hold on one sec, yeah?”
“Yeah, alright. I bet you’re going to get your stories straight now, aren’t you? I told you what happened to Natalie when she caught her son trying to pull the wool over her eyes about that one woman, so don’t think I’ll fall for it.”
Jasper shakes his head and presses mute. He turns to look at me. “Sorry, baby.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Your mother sounds lovely.” I chuckle, the last remnants of sleep fading away.
His gaze roams over my face, his smile growing wider by the second. “I think you mean that.”
I lift my shoulders and let them fall. “I do. I especially like how easily she keeps you in line.”
“Is that what you want to do, hm? You want to keep me in line?” His eyes soften in the corners, the laugh lines deepening.
“Maybe I do.”
He drags his teeth over his bottom lip with a shake of his head. “Nah, I don’t think so, baby. I think you want me to keep you in line.”
My heart kicks inside my chest, like it’s agreeing or something equally ridiculous. I scoff, the sound loud between us. “You wish, Devereaux.”
His brows hit his hairline, and he lets out a low chuckle. “It’s Devereaux now, is it? You trying to friendzone me by last-naming me, baby? It’s not gonna work.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Do you want me to talk to your mom or are you gonna keep stalling?”