21. Darcy
TWENTY-ONE
DARCY
“Supper’s on!” Jake calls with an exaggerated accent.
The scent of melty cheese fills the air and I’m doing some combination of zoning out and dozing in the bathtub. I feel a little stronger during this soak, but I still feel guilty for making Jake take care of me.
Worse, I worry what all of this means. Is he just being nice? Is this pity? Or is this extreme babying the sign of bigger feelings cooking under everything?
I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings, and they must show when Jake comes back into the bathroom. The tiniest stitch appears between his brows. “What’s the matter?”
I jump out of my daze. “Nothing. I’m ready to get out. I could use a hand, though.”
“Of course.” Jake rustles around on the other side of the shower curtain, then takes my extended hand. I wobble as I stand, getting a major headrush and wavering into his touch. A hand slides under my arm. “I got you. Try putting one foot out.”
My balance is still shit, and I’m not successful. Jake’s arms band around my front, hauling my wet body out of the tub until we sit in the chair he pulled into the bathroom. I’m sitting naked in his lap, and I squeak at the surprise of it. “Did I hurt you?” he asks.
I’m breathless, eking out a whisper. “No. Thank you.”
A warm towel envelops my shoulders, and we battle to dry me off. I get tangled in the towel and Jake silently takes over, rubbing it over my shoulders and up my neck.
If I thought I needed loving touch when he cuddled me in bed, this is next level. Jake’s caring for me, his movements so steady yet tender.
“You’re being nice to me again,” I say.
A snort puffs onto my shoulder as he moves to dry my stomach. His voice is low. “You deserve nice.”
I crane my neck to look at his face, but his eyes are focused on my shoulders. What I wouldn’t give for him to graze a kiss there right now. Yes, I’m sick and lightheaded but I need to be loved. Adored. Cherished. I feel safe in his arms, on his lap, and I want to hold onto this feeling. Something for the emotional spank bank.
And that emotional security just happens to be remarkably . . . sexy. If this is the kind of care he gives when I’m at my worst, how could we bring out the best in each other?
Our eyes meet, and I’m ravenous in the consumption of his features: short, dark lashes, crow’s feet, the echoes of his dimples while his face is relaxed, those full lips that are still somehow masculine.
The beat, the pressure of the air between us, pulses with heat, and yet, I shiver.
“You got me some clothes?” I ask, breaking the spell.
“Oh, yeah.” Jake shifts to pull my clothes out from under him. The tension lightens again when I see what underwear he settled on for me.
I hold it up with one finger. “Really, Jake? Lingerie? So thoughtful to give me a G-string when I’m sick.”
“I just grabbed whatever?—”
I chuckle. “Oh, like my vibrator?”
Choked sounds leave Jake, but he says nothing. I bend to slide the underwear under my towel. Jake’s hands meet my waist and he helps me stand to shift them up. We pause and, ever-so-slightly, his fingers dig into my flesh. The tiniest whisper of a moan escapes me, and Jake’s thumb swipes a small arc below my ribs.
I want him. I want this. I’m weak in all the ways: physically, emotionally, hell, even spiritually. I want to faint across his lap and have him kiss me back to life, and I know that’s irrational fairy tale imagery.
I’m not living in a fairy tale, so I work with what I’ve got. I let my towel drop.
There’s a sharp intake of breath behind me, and Jake’s hands coast along my lower stomach as I turn to face him. I’m in just that tiny thong, standing while he’s still seated. His face is at my chest-level, right where, if he were so inclined, he could do all sorts of delicious things to me. Jake’s lips part and he looks somewhere to the left of me. His hand clamps tighter on my hip as he bends to get my t-shirt off the floor. “Hope your Brooks and Dunn shirt is okay,” he rasps.
I take the shirt from him, but let it slip out of my fingers and back onto the floor. I grip his hand and bring it to my waist, and his fingers wrap around my ribs. If I had any doubt as to whether he wanted this, his thumb makes a similar half-moon on the skin just below my breast, reassuring me.
“Darcy, I’m trying not to look,” he croaks.
I rest my hand over his. “I want you to see.”
My breasts are in his face, goosebumps rising from my skin to kiss his. Jake’s legs jolt a little wider and his hips roll slightly, a bulge forming between them. My mouth goes dry again as I assess the size of his erection in his jeans. Everything else about him is big. Why not that too?
His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks up at me. I dip my chin to encourage him to look. He indulges.
His gaze sweeps everywhere, starting in the more tame places, like my neck and collarbones, before falling to my breasts. One long tan finger traces the line of muscle on my stomach that I’ve earned this summer through hours of hard labor.
With the reverence owed to beautiful nature and awe-inspiring moments, he breathes, “You’re perfect.”
I lace our fingers together and drag his hand toward my breast. From here, he takes over. Jake fills his hand with my breast and my nipple pebbles under his touch. His lips hook up on one side and he groans, appreciating his effect on me.
“Is this what you need right now, Darcy?”
My gaze is hooded and my chest splotchy as I’m about to ask for something I wouldn’t normally. “You said you’d give me a hand. Were you just bluffing?”
Jake’s tongue darts out over his bottom lip and he shakes his head. “I meant it.”
I gasp in a breath to speak before I change my mind. “Then give me a hand.”
With a renewed determination, Jake squeezes my breast and lowers his lips to nibble the skin all around my nipple. He holds me steady along my back, his knees pushing wider to draw me closer. I cup the back of his head as he sucks on me, closing my eyes to revel in the sensation. His name is a soft moan on my lips when he flicks his tongue over my raised flesh. The pleasure circuits of my body sizzle, and I lose my balance again. In one smooth motion, Jake spins me to sit on his left leg, draping my arm around his shoulders and holding me in place with an arm around my waist.
His fingers trail down my stomach, his palm flattening against my lower belly. He watches me while the pad of his middle finger slips just below the edge of my panties. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I moan. “Please, Jake.”
But as his hand plunges under the powder blue fabric and his fingers spread me, I realize the consequence of my dehydration.
“Oh, um,” I stammer. “I’m a little . . .”
I want to say “dry,” but that’s not a very sexy thing to talk about.
Jake smirks. “I can fix that.”
One finger hooks under the crotch of my panties and he exposes me to the air. He hums, spreading me with two fingers. “Prettiest little pussy.”
Holding me open, he bends to spit on me, testing the lubrication with a gentle finger.
“That better?”
“Uh huh,” is all I can manage, overwhelmed by the way he strums my clit. I sink my teeth into my lower lip and toss my head back.
Jake’s pressure increases and we both squirm. I brush a hand over the crotch of his jeans, noting a wet spot growing there.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“You like that? You like that you can do that to me?”
“Yes,” I whimper. His middle finger coasts down to press against my entrance.
“Look at that,” he groans. “Wet despite the odds. How’d you do that?”
I grin. “Where there’s a will . . .”
The hand on my back comes down to get a fistful of my ass and Jake growls. “I won’t spank you while you’re sick. Can’t get you too riled up.”
“Don’t go easy on me, Daddy,” I purr.
Jake growls and sucks air through his teeth. “Killing me.”
But he’s the one killing me, the pleasure surprising given my body’s condition. His thumb makes a final circle around my clit before he withdraws his hand from my panties. “Jake,” I beg.
He nods. “I know. Eyes on me.”
He rubs my wetness between two fingers and his thumb. My stomach drops somewhere between my ass and the floor as I watch Jake push his fingers past his lips and suck my taste off them.
I cross my arms over my breasts and close my legs, stiffening.
Fuck. This could be bad. I should have brought up?—
“Something wrong?” he asks. “I wanted you to see my first taste of you.”
Under any other circumstance, this would be unbelievably sexy. But that’s not the position I’m in, and it’s actually quite risky. I stammer, unable to come up with words. I finally settle on, “I think maybe I’m just hungry.”
Jake examines me, trying to figure out my sudden shift. “You . . . want to stop? We can stop. It’s whatever you want.”
“I need to eat,” I insist.
I didn’t expect to deal with this so soon. I just broke off my engagement a little over a month ago. Now I’m out in the world and being touched by another man, and I haven’t had time to take care of everything I should before doing this. Before I go into a full spiral, Jake puts a hand on my thigh, wrapping his other arm tighter around my hip where I still sit on his lap. A little smirk lifts his lips. “It’s alright if you were just a little horny, boss.”
The tension is broken once again, by this pest who likes to do things like give me tender loving care when I’m sick and make my pussy feel good while simultaneously irritating the piss out of me. I loll my head to the side. “I’m hungry.”
He has the biggest shit-eating grin. “For dick.”
He gets my shirt off the floor and flicks his head to get me to raise my arms. He pulls the shirt over my head and gives my ass a soft pat. “Nothing wrong with feeling a little slutty, boss.”
“Stop!” I whine, but I can’t hold back my smile.
This is messy. This is complicated. I have no idea what it means, but I know I want more of it.