CHAPTER TWENTY
“Wait, wait!” I’m laughing as he carries me to the bedroom with his arms around my waist, kissing my chin and mouth and neck and throat. “Wait a second!”
“I can’t wait. I’ve been dying all day, thinking about you and what I missed out on.” He pushes me back onto the bed, making me squeal before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” I whisper as he crawls on top of me, taking his time, eyes locked with mine. “All day.”
“Oh?” He finds the pulse in my throat and flicks his tongue over it. My head falls back. “What were you thinking?” he whispers before taking another lick of my sensitive skin.
“All kinds of things,” I confess as his hands work their way under my shirt.
I sit up, arms over my head so he can pull it off and toss it aside. He cups my breasts, tasting them, while I run my fingers through his hair and hold his head close. So close.
“Dirty things?” he asks, now working on my jeans.
I wiggle my hips, and he slides them down before devouring my legs, running his hands over them while kissing his way from ankle to knee—before moving further north.
I lie back on the bed, eyes closing, as his tongue works all sorts of magic along my inner thighs. “Dirty things,” I whisper, lifting my hips again so he can discard my panties.
My God, this is happening. This is finally happening. This sex god is in my room, in my bed, about to worship me. I am glorious. I am a goddess. He’s been thinking about me all day, and he can’t wait to finish what we keep trying to start.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, his breath hot against my most private parts.
Before I know it, my thighs are gripping his head, and I’m riding out an exquisite orgasm while his skillful tongue takes me over the edge.
I’m still coming down from it, gasping for air and moaning his name as he opens a foil packet and gets himself ready. He’s hard, so hard, so ready for me. For me! He wants me! Even with my head in a fog of pleasure, I can’t help but want to pinch myself. This has to be a dream.
I don’t want it to end.
I work my way back on the bed to give him room, my head on the pillows, and I take him in my arms when he lowers himself over me. There’s heat here, yes, the sort of heat that threatens to burn me up.
But there’s something else. Something sweeter, more tender, something deeper than that. This is Jake. Jake is just about everything I could ask for and more.
“I don’t think I can wait much longer,” he admits before kissing me deeply.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, opening my legs wider to take him in. There’s so much of him.
He breaks the kiss, his mouth close to my ear, and he reaches down to guide himself into me. I close my eyes, holding on tight, ready to take him in.
He groans just a split second before pushing forward. “Erin …” he breathes.
Whoa.
Wait.
My eyes fly open when I realize what he just said. There’s no way I imagined that, no matter how much I want to believe I did.
“What?” I whisper in his ear. My fingers press into his shoulders. “What did you say?”
He knows he said it too. I can tell. His body has gone stiff on top of mine, like if he doesn’t move, I’ll forget he’s there. But let’s face it; there’s way too much of him for me to forget his presence.
Especially now that I can’t breathe with his weight on top of me, unmoving. I try to push him, palms against his chest, but I might as well be trying to lift an elephant.
Finally, I have to gasp, “Get off!”
And he does, and I slide away, so I can get air into my lungs.
It’s more than that. Much more. I need to put at least a few inches between us while I figure out what the heck just happened. I pull the sheets over me while I’m at it since I’ve never felt so exposed in all my life.
Jake, meanwhile, is facedown on the bed, his head buried in the pillow to my right. His fists are clenched on either side.
I don’t know what to do. Should I say something? Tell him it’s okay? That it happens?
This has never happened to me before.
Heck, it might’ve been easier to deal with if he’d lost his erection or something. Sure, his ego would sting, but we wouldn’t both be left with the knowledge that he was thinking about somebody else while he was moments away from being inside me.
I could hear a pin drop; it’s so silent. I’m almost afraid to breathe.
Until a shriek cuts through the air, so sudden and unexpected that it makes me jump. And another shriek. More and more, overlapping each other, screaming women and the sound of harsh, screeching violins.
“What the hell?” Jake shouts as the noise gets louder and louder, filling the room.
Screaming and screeching and shrieking like …
A horror movie.
Oh, he didn’t. I mean, he clearly did, the louse. I should’ve been waiting for him to retaliate.
And oh, his timing is impeccable.
I stomp over to the wall between my apartment and Matt’s and pound my fist against it. “Enough!” I shout with my mouth near the wall. “You’ve made your point!”
The apartment goes silent again.
“What was that about?” Jake asks.
I’m still facing the wall. “Long story. Sort of a silent war.”
“Not so silent.”
“True.”
We stay like that for a while until I remember I’m stark naked. If the man in my bed hadn’t just whispered the name of his ex-girlfriend, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, he was all over me a few minutes ago.
Now? I’m exposed and uncomfortable. Incredible how a single four-letter word can turn everything upside down.
“What am I supposed to do?” I have to whisper after an eternity of this, neither of us moving or speaking. “Tell me what to do here. I’m completely lost.”
He doesn’t say anything. Here I am, with a man who seems to always have something to say, some bit of positive advice or a lighthearted quip. Some piece of wisdom. And he’s just as lost as I am.
“I guess …” he whispers, barely lifting his face from the pillow, his voice muffled as a result. “I guess it would be too much to ask for you to forget that just happened.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I can do that,” I admit. “I wish I could. I do.”
“I know. Me too.” He finally rolls onto his side, facing me. “I’m mortified. I can’t believe that happened. I am so, so sorry.”
“I know.” It’s amazing—the fact that I’m able to speak when there’s so much pressure building in my chest. This time, it has nothing to do with his weight on top of me.
“I swear, I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“I get it,” I whisper with my head bobbing up and down. I can’t look at him. I’ll die if I look at him. It’s easier to stare at the wall.
“She’s not even part of my life anymore.”
See, there are certain things even I can’t excuse. Evidently, this is one of them.
My T-shirt is on the floor not far from my feet, so I reach down and pull that over my head if only to regain a little dignity. “That’s obviously untrue or else you wouldn’t have groaned her name while the two of us were about to have sex. She’s on your mind. She’s part of your mind still.”
My legs are shaking, but I stand my ground anyway. Whatever it takes so long as I don’t have to remain in bed with him.
Could I handle this better? I wish that question wouldn’t come up as I put on my panties, which he flung across the room. Should I be the cool girl? Should I laugh it off?
No. I can’t believe that’s the right answer, and I’d have an entire earful to give to the person who tried to convince me otherwise.
Being the cool girl and laughing this off and acting like it doesn’t mean anything would be the same as sweeping a problem under the rug and pretending it doesn’t exist.
This is a problem. A very big problem, far too large to fit under a rug. A problem named Erin.
When am I going to start listening to my instincts rather than brushing them aside?
“Can we talk about it?” he asks from the bed.
The rustling of the sheets and creaking of the springs tell me he’s sitting up. I can only rely on my ears since turning his way would mean showing him the tears in my eyes. I would rather not do that.
“What is there to say?”
Where are my jeans? I have to find my jeans. I have to keep moving because if I stop, I might fall apart.
I don’t love him. I’m not in love with him.
But darn it, I could’ve been. This could’ve been something special. Or so I told myself.
“That it didn’t mean anything?”
That shouldn’t strike me as funny, but I laugh anyway. “Come on. That’s the oldest line in the book.”
The jeans are poking out from under the bed. One of us must’ve kicked them aside. I reach for them.
“It’s the truth.”
“Stop lying to yourself. Just stop in general.” Now, I have to look at him because he’s starting to frustrate me worse than he already has.
He’s devastated. I can read it in every line of his face, like the ones between his eyebrows and at the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man in pain.
“I didn’t want this to happen,” he whispers.
“I know you didn’t. Neither did I.” I have to sit. My knees are watery. There’s a little chair not far from the bed, near the window, and I plop into it with my hands pressed together between my knees.
“It really is over between us,” he offers. “I want you to know that.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I mean it,” he insists. “It’s way over. It has been—”
“For months. Over a year even,” I finish for him. “I know that. But there’s over, and there’s over. You might not be dating her, but she’s on your mind.” I can’t say more than that because that would mean admitting the very real possibility that Dr. Erin is still part of his heart too.
He runs both hands through his hair before holding his head between them. “I told myself she was gone. I want her to be gone.”
“Listen, it happens.” Am I honestly comforting him right now? Am I trying to make him feel better? “She went away. You didn’t get the opportunity to close things off. Sometimes, distance helps things, but then she came back. And now, all those months might as well have never happened.”
He heaves a sigh, his back expanding and contracting in time. “How are you so smart about this? You’re not even a part of it, but you see it so much clearer than I do.”
Not a part of it? I’d say the fact that the memory of his ex-girlfriend kept me from getting laid and pretty much ruined whatever we had been building together most definitely puts me smack dab in the middle.
But that’s neither here nor there. I get his point anyway.
“It’s always easier to see things when you’re standing outside,” I offer in a soft voice.
“Besides, this is the sort of stuff I deal with for a living. You can jump in and perform the Heimlich maneuver on a kid whose mother panicked and forgot what to do. I can see your problems clearly because I’m not the one involved, and it’s my job to understand why people feel the way they do. ”
“I guess you’re right.” He drops his hands and looks at me. “What now?”
Is he trying to kill me?
“Now? I think you should get your clothes on and go home—or wherever you need to go. But home might be best. Do some thinking, play with the dogs. But you need to figure this out.”
“I don’t want to say good-bye to you,” he whispers. “Not now. Not for good either.”
“Who says it has to be for good?” I ask with a shaky chuckle.
This is killing me. I can’t take it, but I don’t have a choice.
“I only suggested you think things through. You need to work it out for yourself. I can’t do it for you.
Neither can Erin.” Her name makes my mouth feel sour, like I just tasted fresh lemon juice. Or bile.
“You’re right. I have to think this through. I never imagined …”
“I get it.” And I do. I don’t have to like it though. “Get dressed. I’ll wait out in the living room.” Or in the kitchen, where there happens to be a collection of liquor bottles, most of them unopened.
Something tells me that’s going to change tonight.
So stupid. So, so stupid. I knew he was still stuck on her.
Why else would he have answered the phone when she called, even when we were on the verge of taking our clothes off and getting freaky?
Why would he have spent so much time fighting on the phone with her when he knew I was waiting in the other room?
Because he’s still in love with her—or at least because there’s too much unfinished business between them. She dumped him and left the country. He didn’t exactly have the chance to get right with things.
His footsteps shuffle out behind me after just a few minutes. “I, uh, guess I’d better go.”
“Okay.” I’m standing by the window, arms wrapped around myself, staring out at the street below. Nobody down there knows what it means to be me right now, disappointed and sad and embarrassed over something I didn’t even do.
“Can I …” He takes a few steps closer. “Can I call you?”
“Sure.” I shrug, trying to sound upbeat and failing miserably. “Give me a little time though. Okay?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I can’t give him more than that.
I’ve already given him more than a lot of women would in my position.
Some girls would’ve thrown him out and tossed his clothes behind him, not even giving him the time to get dressed.
Some would’ve shouted at him, called him every name in the book for even daring to think of another woman while in bed with them.
Not that I don’t want to. Not that I don’t want to make him feel as small as he unwittingly made me feel. But I’m not that person. I can’t do that to him. I still like him so darn much.
That might be the worst part of all.
At least I manage to wait to cry until the door closes with a soft click.