47. Jay
Chapter forty-seven
Jay
I thought a weight had lifted from my shoulders when I heard Katy tell me she loved me. But it was nothing compared to the lightness I felt yesterday when Ruth texted me for the first time in ten days.
We still haven’t talked properly—just a few texts here and there between her Zoom meetings for work and my work at the casino—but I’ll see her tomorrow for another fajita night. She’s invited us all—me and Katy, Amie, Cam, and Paloma—but just knowing that she doesn’t hate me, that she’s talking to me again, is everything. And she and Katy are mending their fences, too. Katy has a brighter aura, a wild and carefree attitude to just about everything, now that there are no more secrets weighing her down. Weighing us down.
Katy meets me at her front door wearing that same pink dress she wore for my birthday, and I stifle a moan. Wide shoulder straps drop to a low neckline, showing her ample cleavage before hugging every single fucking curve of her body and ending at her knees. It’s like the dress was made just for her. My dick twitches in my pants, desperate to see the pink material pooled on her bedroom floor rather than hugging those sinful hips. But I grab those hips and pull her to me, talking my dick out of making a scene and locking my eyes with Katy’s brown ones.
“You look beautiful, Princess.” My lips curl into a smile, and it feels like one of those disbelieving ones. Because I am in disbelief—the constant disbelief that she’s actually mine. That I get to hold her like this. That I get to tilt my head and slide my lips over hers, tasting the sweet spice of her mouth. It takes everything in me to tear my lips away from hers, from this kiss that feels like it’s the only thing keeping me breathing, but I do, and I grab her hand.
“Come on. Let me take you on a real date.”
The restaurant is much fancier than either of us would normally choose, but this feels like an occasion that should be celebrated. We’re not hiding anymore. There are no more secrets. Ruth is talking to both of us again, and to top it off, Katy aced an essay and an exam this week.
“I feel like I should know this about you already, but… how do you cook your steak?” Katy slides her index finger along the length of the silverware as she peruses the menu and asks the question.
“Uh oh, is this one of those make-or-break the relationship questions?”
Katy tips her head back and laughs, and I fight the urge to lean across the table and press my lips to the creamy skin of her throat.
“Maybe.” She tilts her head with a smile. “It depends on your answer.”
“Usually medium-rare. Sometimes rare, depending on what mood I’m in.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. That’s acceptable.”
“Acceptable, huh?”
She shoots me a wink across the table.
“You know,” I begin, pausing for a sip of water. “Guy thinks Hero Pups is a done deal.”
“I hate to say I told you so.”
“No you don’t,” I say with very little bite and a smirk on my face. Katy smirks. “It’s not official yet. But I did get an email from Ruby earlier, too.”
“And you’re just telling me now?”
“Patience, Princess,” I chide. “They want to do a home inspection next week.”
“Make it Tuesday afternoon and they can come to mine. I mean, if you want. They’ll never approve a Labrador in your tiny flat.”
My face splits into a grin and I grab her hand across the table. The waiter arrives to take our order, and then we’re alone again. At least, that’s what it feels like. When I’m with Katy, we could be in the middle of a crowd of a billion, but she’s the only one I see.
“Maybe—I mean—do you think—”
“Maybe we could look for somewhere to live together?”
She took the words right out of my mouth. Again, I marvel at just how in tune we always seem to be, how well she knows me. How perfect she is for me.
“I know it’s soon, but this is it for me, Katy. You’re it for me.”
She beams at me, and the waiter chooses that exact moment to deliver our food. We dine on steak—two ribeyes, cooked medium rare—and share a bottle of wine. Wine isn’t my favourite, but I don’t hate it, and Katy swears this is a good one. By the time we’ve eaten two courses and polished off the bottle, I’m ready to go home. I want nothing more than to hold Katy close, kiss the flirtatious smile off her lips, and perhaps do a few unmentionable things to her, too. It’s an excruciatingly long drive home without being able to touch her.
She kicks the door closed and tears off her heels the moment we get into the house. Her bare feet have barely hit the carpet before she whirls around to face me, shoving me against the wall and leaping into my arms.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” Her words are low and breathy as her lips crash into mine, tongue seeking and sweeping into my mouth. She tastes like wine and ice cream, like Katy, like love . I kiss her fervently, like her kiss is my oxygen. And god , I don’t think I could live without it. I can’t hold her close enough. I never understood what that meant before, but in this moment, it’s my only thought as her small hands fumble with the buttons on my shirt.
“Get this off,” she whispers against my jaw. “Want this off now.”
“Patience, Princess.” That seems to be the theme of the evening. I tip my head back against the wall, opening up my throat for her lips. It’s rare that Katy takes charge, but I can’t pretend I don’t fucking love it when she does. I’d do just about anything she asks, but tonight is about her. It’s not about fucking. Tonight, I’m going to make love to this incredible woman, I’m going to worship her the way she deserves. I lower her until her bare feet hit the floor again, and pull my shirt over my head.
“Bedroom, gorgeous. And leave that dress for me.” I tap her on the hip and she takes off at a run for the stairs. I give her a moment to reach the bedroom before I follow. When I reach her, she’s perched on the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap, lips puffy and thoroughly kissed, and skin flushed almost as pink as her dress.
“Jay,” she whispers. “God, Jay—”
“Come here.” The words tear from my throat in a low growl, and within a fraction of a second, Katy is in my arms again. Where she belongs. Where she fits so perfectly. My lips melt against hers, slow and sensual, and trembling fingers unbuckle belts and open zips.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips. I feel her lashes flutter against my skin, damp with tears that spring to her eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you ,” she says. “Fuck, I love you. So much. So fucking much.”
She pushes me down onto the bed—this tiny, quiet, mouse of a woman with angel-gold hair and the strength of a fucking ox, and she climbs over me, straddling my hips.
Later, when we’re both drenched in sweat, spent and exhausted, Katy lifts herself off me and rolls onto her side. I tuck her against me, holding her with both arms as her head comes to rest on my chest. I’ve never known peace like this. It’s something I always used to chase, and then resigned myself to never knowing. Something I once thought I wouldn’t live long enough to find.
But here, in the rosy glow of Katy’s bedside lamp, with my sister’s best friend in my arms… I’m finally home.