Chapter 22 Clara
I pressed his doorbell a minute ago, an old-fashioned thing I’m half convinced didn’t work until I start to hear a bolt sliding on the other side of the door. My words are lodged in my throat as he stares at me, mouth slack.
He’s wearing basketball shorts and nothing else. Heat creeps up my neck and the speech I mentally prepared on my walk over here is gone. All I can focus on is the hard lines of his body, the faint remains of a summer tan, dark hair dusting his chest and beneath his belly button.
Seeing him from across the room didn’t do him justice.
I do my best to act like a normal human being as I hold out the wine. “I couldn’t find pie, so I brought wine.”
He accepts my offering, but he’s looking at me like he’s questioning if I’m real or not. Eyebrows pinched, lips pressed tight. It isn’t exactly the smile I was hoping for. “You’re supposed to be in New York.”
I know I am. It’s exactly what the last four text messages from my mother say.
But the second the car turned around last night, the ache in my chest began to ease.
“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to be alone on Thanksgiving together?” I tuck the wild pieces of hair blowing in the wind behind my ears and pray that he doesn’t turn me away.
“I could probably make a pie if it’s an entry criterion. ”
I feel like I can pinpoint the moment the confusion passes. He blinks a few times, steps out of the way, and holds the door open. “I’ll share my pie with you, Clara.” I walk past and take the first step of the stairs as he closes the door. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Neither can I,” I mumble.
Elf is so happy to see me that he knocks over a chair. I turn to Jack to jokingly tell him that it’s his turn but he’s busy pulling on a hoodie, giving me one less thing to be thankful for today.
I hang my coat on the hook beside the front door and kick off my boots.
Jack puts the bottle of wine in the refrigerator.
I feel out of practice being here even though it’s only been twenty-four hours.
I lean my elbows against the kitchen counter, but I’m awkward and out of place.
I go around to the other side and lean my back against it, switching from one foot to the other.
Jack doesn’t seem to notice. At least he doesn’t say anything when he turns back to face me. “So what made you stay?”
“A few reasons. I didn’t like the thought of you spending the day alone.
” There’s something about the person who does everything for everyone else being alone on a day for giving thanks that doesn’t sit right with me.
“Even though I know you said it was fine. It didn’t feel fine to me.
” Vulnerability isn’t something that comes naturally to me, but I push the discomfort to the side to be honest with him.
His eyebrows lift half an inch, eyes that little bit wider. “That, uh, that means a lot to me.”
“Mm-hmm.” I look at my cream socks against the gray tile flooring. He takes a few steps and stops in front of me. Jack pushes my hair behind my shoulders and nudges my chin up gently until his deep brown eyes are locked with mine.
“I mean it, Clara.” He follows the curve of my jaw with his fingers, lets his hand settle on the side of my neck.
I swallow as his thumb strokes over my pulse.
He’s watching me so carefully that it makes me want to look away.
I feel like he’s under my skin. “I’m really happy I get to spend today with you. ”
Jack’s hand slips into the hair at the nape of my neck. “Show me how happy you are that I’m here,” I whisper.
His head dips slowly; I angle my mouth toward him as he nudges my nose with his. He’s teasing me, taking his time and testing how patient I can be. My hands cling to the front of his hoodie in desperate fists, pulling his body closer. “I’ve wanted to do this since I met you,” he whispers.
There’s no patience left in him as he melts me with a searing kiss. I creep onto my tiptoes to try to get closer; he lifts me at my hips and sits me on the counter, pushing himself in between my parted knees.
I lock my feet around his lower back, groan into his mouth when he squeezes my hips and drags me to the edge. The pressure of him in between my legs. His mouth on mine. His hands back in my hair. It’s too much and not enough.
“I want to feel you on top of me again,” I murmur when his mouth leaves mine to kiss down my throat.
Jack wastes no time hoisting me up and striding toward the couch.
His hands grip my ass; his mouth moves back to mine.
He lowers me down slowly, moving a cushion behind my head as he settles between my open legs.
It’s more intense like this. The kissing feels hotter. The pressure better. I slip my hand under Jack’s clothes and run my finger down his spine. His hips grind into mine, his erection thick and heavy.
“Should we talk about what’s happening right now?” he asks gently, pressing his forehead against mine.
I use my hand to tilt his face to find his mouth again; the roughness of his stubble scratches against my chin. I shake my head between quick kisses. “No.”
He ignores me, pushing himself up and sitting on the heels of his feet between my legs. My thighs are over his, feet flat on the couch behind him. I push myself up onto my forearms and shake out my hair.
If I knew I’d be seducing a man today I’d have worn something other than sweatpants. I have Halloween-themed bat panties on. Jack probably wishes he had on something other than the basketball shorts that are failing to hide how hard he is. He follows my eyes and pulls his hoodie down at the front.
“This isn’t smart,” he says. The uncertainty in his voice is almost funny. “Is it?” He rubs at his temple, eyes slowly trailing over me. I really wish I were wearing something sexy. He tilts his head back, looking at the ceiling like it’ll somehow give him answers.
“Does something have to be smart to be good?”
“You’re going to leave.” It sounds like he’s reminding himself more than me. “At some point. Some point soon.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“But there’s this”—he points his finger to each of us repeatedly—“this thing. Right? Between us? An energy. I’m not imagining it.”
I nod my head slowly. “You’re not imagining it.”
This poor man looks tortured when he was supposed to be enjoying having a pie to himself today. “Maybe now that we’ve kissed once it’ll, I don’t know, lessen the energy. We can go back to being normal after.”
I give him a soft smile, run my foot up his thigh. “I don’t know any time where that exact logic hasn’t worked.”
“I’m a man in crisis and you’re making jokes.
” Jack laughs, rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
He moves my foot from his leg and leans over me, placing it on the bottom of his back.
I lift my other leg and interlink my feet again.
The weight of his body reignites the ache that was starting to dull.
He presses his forehead against mine again.
“I can’t fuck you, Clara. I know I won’t be the same after. ”
Jack’s hips grind into mine and I whimper. Now who’s being tortured? “Just kiss me then. Nothing bad has ever happened from making out.”
His teeth nip at my ear. My thighs tighten around his waist. A desperate fire is burning in my lower belly. “I deserve a medal for the levels of restraint I’m showing,” he mumbles, sounding furious at himself.
“Yeah,” I tell him, helping pull the hoodie from his body and over his head. “Won’t be getting a medal from me. I’m team no restraint.”
His skin is hot and smooth under my fingertips; every inch of him is covered in thick, solid muscle. I trail my fingers across his shoulders while he kisses me gently, letting me explore him.
It’s slower and sweeter than earlier. He takes his time, almost like he’s savoring it because he knows it can’t happen again. He maneuvers us so I’m on top of him and spends time running his hands over every inch of me.
When I finally push us apart, my hands flush to Jack’s chest with his erection hidden in his shorts at the apex of my thighs, he clears his throat gently. “Do you want some pie?”
T HERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT EATING AFTER finally getting what I’ve been waiting for that is making this cherry pie taste incredible.
My family won’t even be sitting down to eat their appetizers yet, so I feel very spoiled being allowed to skip straight to dessert. The pregame commentators are going over statistics but Jack is too busy spinning a strand of my hair between his fingers to pay attention.
“You’re really going to let me sit here and eat this alone?” I hold up a forkful of cherry filling to him but he shakes his head.
“I’m enjoying watching you try not to get it all over your face.” I roll my eyes and he kisses my temple.
In a surprising turn of events, “once” didn’t make the energy between us any more manageable. I decide not to think too hard about it and just enjoy today for what it is.
He shows me pictures his family sent and reads the Fraser Falls Thanksgiving Newsletter out loud. There’s a natural gap where it would be normal to talk about my family, but it’s a boundary Jack set and I want to respect it.
I think he senses it too. “What are Honor and Paloma doing today?” he asks.
I smile and lean in, kissing him lightly on the cheek just above where his beard ends. When today is over, so is the affection. It’s a one-time thing. A one-day thing at most. “Paloma is at her dad’s house. He’s named Kyle. We don’t like him.”
Jack nods very seriously. “Good to know, thank you.”
“He only fought for custody to reduce his child support payments and he constantly messes with Honor. He cheated on her and is just generally an ass. Honor is at work. She’s a nurse at a hospital in Brooklyn.”
I launch into how we met, the stories that represent the best of our friendship, and how much I love being part of Paloma’s life.
Jack listens carefully, adding thoughtful questions, while we spend the rest of the day hanging out on the couch.
When we get hungry, Jack throws a couple of frozen pizzas in the oven and opens my cheap wine that smells a little like vinegar.
And when it’s time to go to bed, there’s no argument over the couch.
He drags an old Red Sox shirt over my head and pulls me to his chest beside him.
I fall asleep wondering how long I can make one day last.