10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Jake
T he first light of dawn sneaks through the curtains, and I blink into Sunday morning with a weight on the other side of the bed. Ellie's body is curled against mine, her soft breaths tickling my chest. For the first time since Sarah, I'm waking up with a woman in my bed. It should feel strange. Wrong, even. But it doesn't. Ellie's steady breath fills my ears, grounding me.
I roll over, taking in her sleeping form—the way her brown hair spills over the pillow, her glasses on the nightstand, her naked shoulder exposed and inviting. She fits here naturally, as if she's always been right beside me. The comfort of her presence soothes the ragged edges of my grief, worn but still capable of slicing open old wounds when I least expect it.
I want to keep this casual. Simple. Uncomplicated. But after yesterday, wrapped up in each other for hours, laughing and talking in between bouts of explosive sex, I can't deny I want more. My chest tightens at the thought of my plans that involve riding horses with her later today, showing her the ranch—my world. Charlotte will be home tomorrow and Ellie will be leaving, so I should savor...
I push the thought away, focusing on the present. I focus on Ellie's smooth skin and the curve of her hip under my hand. On her full breasts that are already puckering for me. I stroke my cock under the sheets, already hard and eager for this amazing woman. She stirs when I kiss her shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her lips, and my resolve to keep things simple blurs.
I move forward, sliding my cock between her thighs. She moans, arching into me, and my body burns. "Time for round fifty?" I whisper.
Her laugh rumbles against my chest. "Insatiable beast."
"Can't get enough of you." The words slip out before I can stop them. Too honest. Too real.
Ellie stills, meeting my gaze, and for a moment I'm sure she'll call me on it. Question what I really want from her.
But then she smiles, slow and sweet, and rolls onto her back, pulling me with her. "Well then, you'd best get to it. We've only got so much time."
I kiss her, exploring her mouth with my eager tongue. Then I dive under the sheets, parting her legs so I have access to all of her. I run my tongue up her crease, loving how sweet she tastes. Her moans break the silence of the morning as I'm losing myself in her. I bury my face between her legs, her taste all over me.
When she's writhing, gasping, I come up for air, teasing her entrance with my cock. "Jake, please," she pants, her hands reaching for me, but I pin them down gently above her head.
"Patience, beautiful," I say, though every fiber of me is screaming to plunge into her. "Haven't you had enough? I've been fucking you all weekend."
Her response is a grin, all sass and fire. "Well, be a good friend and keep doing it."
How can I resist?
I thrust into her, each movement more forceful than the last. She cries out, nails digging into my back, her voice calling my name. Her body clamps around me, and I know she's close. The sight of her beneath me, the feel of her coming undone, it's a power that drives me to keep pushing for more. I need more.
She finally shatters around me. When I can tell she's coming down from the high, I pull out and finish on her, my thumb circling her clit, marking her in the most primal way. It's what she wants, what we both need in this moment. She smiles up at me, completely satisfied. I kiss her beautiful lips again, pulling her close.
As I hold Ellie in the afterglow, she traces circles over my chest. The room is silent except for our steady breathing and the occasional creak of the old ranch house settling.
"So what now?" she says, breaking the silence. "What happens tomorrow? We go back to being neighbors, or are you interested in continuing our arrangement?"
"Arrangement?" I repeat with a snort. "Is that what we're calling this?"
"You know what I mean. No strings. No complications. We're just...helping each other out."
"Friends with benefits?" The term sounds ridiculous coming from my mouth, but it's not entirely wrong either. It's a good deal. Ellie is smart, sexy, and right next door. But there's another part of me, one that's damn tired of keeping everyone at arm's length, that wonders if I'm making a mistake.
"I promise to keep it casual," she says, like she's reading my mind and my concerns.
"What about Marcus? He's not going to be okay with this. You know he won't."
"You let me worry about my brother." She strokes my jaw, her touch soft. Soothing. "This is between us. No one else has to know."
"Yeah?" I catch her hand, grappling for control in a situation that's quickly getting away from me. "And when he shows up at my door, what then?"
"He won't." Her eyes are steady on mine. Resolute. "I'll handle Marcus. I promise."
I want to believe her. God, I want to. But life has taught me better than that. Suddenly the bed feels too warm, suffocating. A heaviness settles on my shoulders. Friends with benefits don't worry about brothers finding out. "He can't find out," I say because I don't want to lose my best friend over something that's casual. Something that can only ever be casual.
Ellie rises up on her elbow, lips brushing my ear. "Relax," she murmurs. "Just relax, and be here with me. We'll figure the rest out later. My silly brother won't find out."
Her hand slides down my chest, closing around my cock, and despite my doubts, I'm hardening again inside her palm.
"Round fifty-one?" she teases.
I'm about to roll on top of her and cover that cute mouth with mine, when a movement outside the window catches my eye—a truck rolling down the driveway. Elijah's truck. Panic slams into me. Charlotte's supposed to be enjoying pancakes and cartoons at his place until tomorrow. She's supposed to be having fun with her friend, Mia. What the hell is Elijah doing here today?
"Shit," I mutter, scrambling out of bed. There's no time for conflicted feelings. Not when my daughter might walk through that door any second and see her Daddy with a woman that’s not her mother. I lunge for my jeans.
"What is it?" Ellie says with alarm. "What's wrong?"
"That's my friend's truck, so Charlotte is likely with him. He was watching Charlotte for the weekend. They must be back early." My voice is curt as I yank on yesterday's jeans, not bothering with underwear.
"Early? Why?" she asks, but I'm already halfway to the door, snatching my shirt off the floor.
"Don't know." I pull the cotton over my head, and it sticks to my damp skin. "But I'm going to find out."
Ellie doesn't ask any more questions, just hurries off to the bathroom to clean up and find her own clothes. I appreciate that—no fuss, no drama. Just action. It's what I need right now.
I dart into the living room. Clothes—Ellie's and mine—are strewn haphazardly on the floor and couch. I snatch them up, tossing them quickly in the laundry room. Anything to hide the evidence of what's been happening here all weekend, anything to keep Charlotte's innocent eyes from asking questions I'm not ready to answer.
I rake a hand over my face, trying to rub away the guilt. Charlotte doesn't need another woman in her life, not yet. She's still got that hole in her heart shaped like her mother, and no one—especially not Ellie—is about to fill it.
I reach the front door and open it in time to see Elijah climbing out of his truck. His movements are slow, measured, and he's not looking up at the house. That's not a good sign. Usually, he’d be waving, wearing a grin that says he's got a fresh story to tell. But today, nothing.
"Damn it," I curse again, running a hand through my hair before stepping onto the porch. If Charlotte's hurt, if something happened...
The thought makes my stomach twist into knots, and I almost trip over my own feet in my rush. All the while, I'm cursing myself for letting this happen—for getting caught up in a weekend of skin on skin and forgetting that I'm a father first, a man with responsibilities.
The fault is mine. I let my guard down, let someone in, and now I might have to pay the price.
Charlotte climbs out of the truck, her little face pale, and I'm at her side in an instant. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" My voice might be rough around the edges, but it softens to velvet when I talk to my daughter.
"I don't feel good, Daddy," she whimpers, and I touch her forehead—it's hot. "Sorry, Daddy. I threw up."
"Don't apologize for that, sweetheart. It's okay."
"I've been trying to get hold of you all morning," Elijah says. "I wanted to make sure you were home before bringing her back. But I figured I'd chance it. She started feeling sick around midnight."
Guilt and anger war in my chest, anger at myself for being so stupid. I haven't been checking my phone, so it must've died. I let myself get too distracted. What the hell is wrong with me? I pull Charlotte closer, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I'm sorry," I tell her.
She only shrugs. "I got to stay with Mia longer, so it's okay. I want to go back soon."
"Let's get you better first."
She perks up a little, looking past my shoulder. "Ms. Carter?"
I turn to see Ellie stepping off the porch, hastily dressed. Elijah's eyebrows shoot so far up, I'm surprised they stay on his head. I give him a look, silently telling him not to ask. His eyebrows only raise further.
"Why is she here?" Charlotte asks, her voice weak but curious.
"There...was an accident at our other home."
"Accident?"
"We can talk about it later. Let's get you inside so you can rest."
I stand as Ellie approaches and Elijah steps forward to introduce himself. "I'm—"
"He's just leaving," I cut in.
He whispers to Ellie, "I'm Elijah and he's a grump."
Ellie smiles and shakes his hand, offering her name. Then she steps closer to Charlotte. She squats down to Charlotte's level, eye to eye with my little girl. "Tell me what's wrong."
Charlotte clutches her stomach, her face pale as milk. "Tummy hurts...I threw up," she mumbles.
Ellie sticks out her bottom lip, adjusting her glasses. "Oh, that's awful. But I know what helps with that. Come on." Standing, she offers her hand, which Charlotte happily takes.
I step forward, every instinct screaming to be the one who comforts Charlotte, but Elijah's hand on my shoulder holds me back. I turn to him, muscles tense, ready for whatever he's about to fling at me.
After the front door closes behind Ellie and Charlotte, he says, "Jake, brother, what's going on here?" Elijah's gaze is searching, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity that I'm not in the mood to satisfy.
"Ellie...It's just..." I trail off. How do I even begin? The weight of his stare pins me to the spot.
"Let me guess. You're going to say it's complicated?"
I drop my gaze. "No, I was going to say it’s casual."
He laughs. "That kiss I saw between you two didn't look casual."
I grunt, noncommittal, staring at the ground. It's safer than meeting his eyes.
He pats my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not here to make you feel defensive. I just want to know more about her because I'm happy for you. When did this start?"
I cross my arms because he is making me feel defensive. "Nothing has started. Like I said, it's casual. She was having trouble with her apartment and...anyway, I don't need to explain anything."
"It's okay," he repeats.
But I only shake my head because his words are a lie. "It's not. I'm not...I'm not ready to move on from Sarah. Neither is Charlotte."
"I get it, but I think Sarah would want—"
I step away from him, done with this conversation. "Thanks for taking care of Charlotte. I owe you. See you at work."
Elijah nods, knowing me well enough to drop the subject. He waves and then climbs into his truck without another word. He drives away, so I walk into the house, my boots heavy on the floorboards. Elijah's truck is long gone, but my mind is still spinning from our conversation. From the questions I couldn't answer. The truths I couldn't face.
Either way, I'm damn lucky he and Marcus don't know each other. The last thing I need is for Marcus to get wind of what's been going on between Ellie and me.
Rounding the corner into the living room, my breath catches.
There's Charlotte, curled up against Ellie on the couch, a mug of tea cradled in her small hands. Ellie's got one arm wrapped around Charlotte, the other holding a remote. They're both fixated on some cartoon. Charlotte is still pale but she looks better. Happier.
I linger in the shadows, just observing as Charlotte's eyes get heavy. Her grip on the mug starts to weaken, so Ellie carefully takes it, setting it on the coffee table before smoothing Charlotte's hair back from her face.
The simple tenderness of the gesture squeezes my chest. I remember Sarah doing the same thing, a lifetime ago, and have to look away. I don't like this uncomfortable feeling. Why does it feel like I'm trying to replace Sarah? Replace Charlotte's mother?
I linger just beyond the warm circle they've created, an outsider in my own home. The urge to join them tugs at me, but so does the need to keep my distance—to maintain the boundaries I've set.
I leave them be so Charlotte can rest, retreating into other parts of the house to tidy up any more reminders of my time with Ellie this weekend. I need to make sure the traces of her don’t linger.