Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JAKE
Saturday arvo at Arden’s place is exactly what we all need after the drama with Doc earlier this week.
The sun’s shining, the beer’s cold, and Stella seems more relaxed than she’s been in days.
She’s wearing a sundress that shows off her legs and makes me want to find excuses to touch her all afternoon.
“Jake, stop staring at your girlfriend’s arse and help me with the prawns,” José calls from the outdoor kitchen, playing sous-chef to Arden’s head-chef routine.
“I wasn’t staring at her arse,” I protest—though I absolutely was.
“You were definitely staring,” Parker confirms from his spot by the pool. “Like a starving man looking at a steak dinner.”
“Can you blame me? Have you seen that dress?”
“We’ve all seen the dress,” Chase laughs. “And we’ve all seen you mentally undressing her for the past hour.”
Stella looks up from her conversation with the girls, an eyebrow raised. “Are you lot talking about me?”
“Just admiring your outfit choice,” I call back with a grin.
“By admiring, he means eye-fucking,” Asher adds helpfully.
“ASHER!” Ella smacks his arm. “Language!”
“What? It’s accurate.”
Stella just laughs and goes back to her chat, completely unbothered by our ridiculous behaviour. That’s one of the things I love about her—she can hold her own with a bunch of mechanics without missing a beat.
“Right,” Arden announces, flipping steaks with a surgeon’s precision, “these beauties are almost ready. Someone want to grab the sides from inside—Martha, my housekeeper, left them out?”
“I’ll get them,” Stella offers, standing and smoothing down her dress.
“I’ll help,” I say quickly, earning snickers from the boys.
“Of course you will,” Megan teases with a knowing smile.
Inside Arden’s massive kitchen, Stella collects bowls from the fridge while I pretend to be useful by finding serving spoons. It’s quieter in here, away from the laughter outside.
“Having fun?” I ask, moving in behind her and slipping my arms around her waist.
“Mmm.” She leans back against my chest. “It’s nice. Normal. After this week...”
“Hey.” I turn her in my arms. “You okay? Really okay?”
“I’m good. Better than good, actually. Finally telling Doc exactly what I thought helped. Got it out of my system.”
“Good. You deserved to say your piece.”
She smiles up at me, the afternoon light through the windows making her green eyes sparkle. “Have I mentioned lately that I love you?”
“Not in the last hour. I was starting to worry,” I joke.
“Well, I do. Love you, I mean. Desperately and completely.”
“Fuck, Stella,” I murmur, backing her against the kitchen counter. “You can’t say things like that when we’re at someone else’s house.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me want to do things that would definitely get us banned from future BBQs.”
Her eyes darken. “What kind of things?”
I lean past her, scoop a little mashed potatoes from the bowl, drag it across her lips, then lick it from her mouth. She shudders, pressing into me.
Before I can answer with words, Arden’s voice booms from outside. “Where are those sides? The steaks are getting cold!”
“We should go back,” Stella whispers, but she doesn’t move.
“Should we?” I kiss her neck.
“Jake...” she breathes—more invitation than protest.
“Five minutes,” I murmur against her throat. “Just give me five minutes.” I smear a dab of mashed potatoes along her neck and take my time licking it off her smooth skin. Who would’ve thought mashed potatoes could taste this fucking good?
I’m kissing my way up to her ear when Arden himself appears in the doorway.
“Ah,” he says, amused, “this explains the delay.”
Stella jumps away like I’m on fire, cheeks burning. “Arden! We were just?—”
“Getting very distracted by each other and traumatising the mashed potatoes,” he finishes with a grin. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there.” He slants his gaze toward the kitchen bench that I have no doubt he has done unspeakable things with Ella on.
“We were getting the salads,” I say, snatching the nearest bowl.
“Sure you were. Jake, can I have a quick word? Stella, the girls are looking for you outside.”
She shoots me a look that promises we’ll continue this later, then heads for the patio with a couple of bowls. Arden waits until she’s out of earshot, his expression shifting.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
“More than all right.” He leans on the island. “Stella’s been with us what—three months now?”
“About that, yeah.”
“In that time, she’s increased efficiency by forty per cent, improved client satisfaction across the board, and basically turned us from a chaotic workshop into a legitimate business.”
“She’s incredible at what she does.”
“She is, which is why I want to do something special. A thank-you for everything she’s accomplished.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“A car.”
I blink. “A car?”
“Her Corolla is held together by duct tape. She deserves something reliable—something that reflects her position and success.”
“Arden, that’s... that’s huge.”
“It’s a business expense. She’s my operations manager; she represents the company with clients. She should be driving something that reflects that.”
He’s clearly decided, but he’s asking for my input.
“What kind of car are we talking?”
“That’s where I need your help. I know cars, but I don’t know Stella like you do. What would she want to drive?”
I think it through. Stella’s practical, but she appreciates quality. Not flashy, but excellent taste.
“Reliable but not boring. She’ll value engineering over status. Maybe a BMW 3 Series. Or an Audi A4. Something with character but still professional.”
“Good options. Colour?”
“Red. Definitely red. Matches her personality—and her hair.”
Arden grins. “Red it is. I’ll have my guy start looking this week.”
“She’ll freak out,” I warn. “Insist it’s too much. Try to refuse.”
“That’s why I’m telling you first. You can help convince her to accept it.”
“Or I can distract her while you put the keys in her hand.”
“I like the way you think.”
We head back outside to find the group in full party mode. Robert’s mid-story about a restoration that has everyone laughing, while the girls are deep in serious poolside gossip.
“There they are,” Chase calls. “We were about to send a search party.”
“Jake was molesting the potatoes and trying to be helpful,” Arden says, deadpan.
“I’m always helpful—and I did no such thing to the potatoes,” I protest, dropping into my chair beside Stella.
“You’re something,” she says, smiling.
The afternoon rolls on with lazy, golden-hour magic—the kind that makes you want to stay exactly where you are, drink in hand, surrounded by laughter and people who feel like home.
We’re well past just co-workers. What we’ve got now is family... if your family loved a drink, swore like sailors, and thrived on mildly inappropriate innuendo.
“I need the bathroom,” Stella announces, stretching like a cat, her dress riding up just enough to short-circuit my brain.
“Me too.” I shoot up far too quickly and nearly knock over my beer. The group groans.
“Subtle as a bloody sledgehammer,” Yasmin mutters into her drink.
“They’re not even pretending anymore,” Emily says, rolling her eyes fondly.
“Should we start a timer?” Parker asks. “Five bucks says they’re gone longer than seven minutes.”
“You lot are pervs,” I call over my shoulder, following Stella inside.
The second the door shuts, her mouth finds mine.
“Jesus,” I breathe. “You trying to kill me?”
“Been thinking about this all afternoon,” she whispers, her hands already sliding under my shirt. “All the ways I want you.”
“Yeah?” I pin her to the door, lifting her so her legs wrap around my waist. “And which way tops the list, darl?”
She nips my ear, voice thick with want. “I want to look in the mirror while you fuck me from behind. I want to see exactly how I look when I come on your cock.”
“Fuck me,” I groan, carrying her straight into the downstairs bathroom like a man possessed.
The lock clicks, but I barely register it. I set her before the vanity, watching her reflection as my hands trail down her body.
“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” I murmur, pushing her dress up inch by inch. “You walk around all fucking bossy, acting like you don’t know I’d crawl on my hands and knees just to taste you.”
She shivers as I kneel, tug her panties down, and slide my hands up her bare thighs. “Jake... please.”
I kiss the curve of her arse, then stand, letting her feel the full press of my body against hers.
“You want it filthy?” I whisper against her neck. “You want me to fuck you like we’ve got all the time in the world—knowing full well our mates are outside placing bets?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “God, yes.”
“Hands on the sink, eyes in the mirror.” I tug my belt free, open my jeans, and watch her squirm with anticipation. “Now, be a good girl and tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” she breathes—and the way her eyes darken when my hand slides between her legs tells me she knows exactly what that admission does to me.
I stroke through her slick heat, teasing her clit in slow, lazy circles. “You’re dripping. Already desperate, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Jake, please?—”
I chuckle, stepping in close. “That mouth’s going to get you in trouble.”
Then I slide inside—slow and deep—my eyes never leaving the mirror. Her mouth falls open on a gasp, her fingers gripping the sink like she’s holding on for dear life.
“Look at yourself,” I growl, wrapping my hand around her throat just enough to make her gasp. “Look how fucking stunning you are when I’m buried inside you.”
She whimpers, pushing back against me. “More.”
I tighten my grip just slightly—enough for that perfect buzz of pressure she craves—and roll my hips, finding a punishing rhythm that has us both teetering on the edge.
“You love this, don’t you? Love when I make you watch. Love when I ruin you like this.”
Her eyes lock on mine in the mirror, her lips parted, hair wild, cheeks flushed. “Yes. I fucking love it.”
“Say it louder.”
“I love it. I love the way you fuck me. I love the way you look at me like I’m everything.”
I drop my head, kiss her shoulder, my voice wrecked and low. “That’s because you are.”
I reach between us to circle her clit; her body tightens. I push deeper, holding her in place with one hand on her hip and the other still wrapped gently around her throat.
“Come for me, Stella. Be a good girl and come all over my cock.”
She does—loud, breathless, beautiful—and the second she clenches, I lose it, hips jerking as I spill into her. We sag together, breathless, the mirror fogging, the air thick with heat and the smell of sex.
For a minute, neither of us moves. The mirror’s fogged up, the air thick with heat and the smell of sex. I grab some toilet paper and clean us both up quickly, then help her straighten her dress while she attempts to tame her hair.
“Do I look like I’ve just been fucked in a bathroom?” she asks, squinting at the mirror.
I kiss her cheek. “You look like you’ve just had the best bloody orgasm of your life. So... yeah, kinda. But you look fine.”
She swats my arm, laughing, and we step back onto the patio like nothing happened—except it’s written all over our faces.
Conversation halts. Drinks hover mid-air.
“Well, well,” José is first to razz us. “That was a long bathroom trip.”
“Gotham City needed you, Kinky Batman?” Parker adds with a smirk.
“Or some very enthusiastic handwashing,” Yasmin offers.
“You lot are impossible,” Stella groans, trying to keep a straight face. “We were just talking.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Megan grins. “Because your hair says otherwise.”
Stella turns to glare at me. “You said I looked fine.”
“You look incredible,” I say, slipping an arm around her waist. “Absolutely glowing.”
“I hate you,” she mutters, blushing as she smiles.
“No, you don’t,” I whisper at her ear. “You love me. Especially when I make you scream my name in a guest bathroom.”
“Oh my God,” she yelps, burying her face in my chest as everyone erupts into laughter.
And in the middle of it all, I can’t stop grinning. Because this—these people, this beautiful, fiery woman in my arms—is my life now.
And fucking hell, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.