Chapter 22 TALIA
TALIA
Damn Sweet
When Jake comes home, he crosses the room in three long strides and drops down behind me, wrapping both arms around my waist.
I gasp softly as his body presses against my back.
“Jake—”
He buries his face in my neck.
His breath is warm against my skin, and I feel the faint scrape of his stubble as he drags his cheek along the curve of my throat.
“You’re home,” I murmur, laughing softly because I can’t quite believe how affectionate he is right now.
“Obviously,” he mutters, but there’s no snark in it.
“You’re squishing me.”
“Good.”
I laugh again because he somehow sounds ridiculous and tender at the same time.
“You’ve been drinking,” I say, turning my head just enough to catch part of his face over my shoulder.
“A little bit.”
“How many is a little bit?”
“Two beers.”
I hum thoughtfully.
His hands slide over my stomach slowly, his movements slow and sure.
I feel every inch of it.
I tilt my head, trying to catch his expression.
“Did you have fun?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “But I wanted to come home.”
His voice vibrates low and rough, and my stomach flips.
His mouth brushes the side of my neck again, slow and intoxicating.
“Jake,” I whisper, but there’s no protest in it.
He trails another kiss up the side of my throat. Then another.
He turns me gently so I’m facing him.
His eyes are dark. Open. Honest.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, like it’s an observation he just made.
And then he kisses me.
Slow and deep, deliberate and careful, like I’m something meant to be savored.
My hands find his shoulders automatically. I tug him closer.
He responds immediately, pulling me into his lap so I’m straddling him on the living room floor.
His hands slide down my back, fingers curling at the hem of my shirt.
There’s a pause. A silent question.
I nod.
He lifts the fabric slowly, pushing it over my head. His eyes drag over my skin.
My hands find the hem of his T-shirt. I curl my fingers into the cotton and tug it upward.
He lifts his arms without breaking eye contact, letting me pull it over his head.
When I toss it aside and lay my palms against his bare chest, his skin is warm beneath my touch, solid and steady under my fingers.
He leans in and kisses me again, one hand sliding up my spine, the other resting at my hip.
So achingly tender.
He lowers me onto the rug and hovers over me for a second, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod, pulling him down to me.
“Yes.”
Soon, the last of our clothes are gone.
Jake's fingers find my clit with unerring accuracy.
The touch is feather-light at first, a slow circle that makes my hips twitch. He watches my face with those blue eyes.
The pleasure is sharp and immediate, a jolt of electricity that radiates outward from that tiny bundle of nerves. My thighs fall open wider instinctively.
"Do you like this?" he asks, his voice rough.
I swallow hard. "Yes."
His fingers keep moving, slick and slippery against my soaked pussy, and I can feel myself getting wetter with every pass.
He hums in appreciation.
He increases the pressure slightly, and I whimper.
I can feel his answering groan vibrate through his chest where it presses against mine.
"God, Talia, you're so wet for me."
His finger slips lower, teasing my entrance before pushing inside. I cry out, my walls clenching around him.
"And this?" he asks, his finger sliding deeper. "Do you like this?"
“Yes,” I whisper, my eyes falling shut as pleasure pulls tight inside me.
He adds a second finger, stretching me, and I see stars. His thumb finds my clit again, rubbing in tight circles while his fingers work in and out of me. The dual sensation is overwhelming, and I feel my orgasm building like a wave about to crash.
"Look at me," Jake commands softly.
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. He's watching me with such tenderness that it makes my heart ache.
"I've got you," he says. "Let go, Talia. I've got you."
He curves his fingers inside me, finding that spot that makes my vision blur.
His thumb presses harder on my clit, and I shatter. My orgasm rips through me, and I arch off the rug with a cry that echoes through the house.
Jake holds me through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last tremor until I'm limp and gasping beneath him.
He withdraws his fingers slowly, and I watch as he brings them to his lips. My cheeks flush as he tastes me, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Sweet," he says, and I think I might die of embarrassment. Or desire. Possibly both.
He shifts his position, settling between my thighs. I can feel the head of his cock nudging against my entrance, insistent and demanding.
"And this?" he asks, his voice strained. "Do you like this?"
I swallow, my heart racing. "Yes."
He pushes forward slowly, inch by agonizing inch.
"God, you're tight," he grits out. "You feel incredible."
He seats himself fully inside me and stills, giving me time to adjust. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, or maybe that's my own heart—I can't tell anymore.
He brushes another strand of hair from my face, the gesture so tender it makes my eyes sting.
And then he starts to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that make my breath catch. His forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling.
His pace quickens slightly, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside me. His hand finds my clit again, and I know I won't last long.
"Come for me again," he says, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you."
His fingers work their magic, and I feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core. He drives into me harder now, chasing his own release, and I meet him thrust for thrust.
When I come this time, it's with his name on my lips.
He follows me over the edge, burying his face in my neck with a groan that sounds almost like a sob.
We cling to each other as the pleasure crests and breaks, leaving us gasping and trembling.
He doesn't pull away immediately. Instead, he stays inside me, bracing his weight on his elbows as he brushes gentle kisses across my face—my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose.
I can’t stop smiling.
“Come here,” he murmurs after a minute, pushing himself up and offering me his hand.
He pulls me up gently, gathering our clothes without embarrassment, without awkwardness.
He takes my hand and leads me toward his bedroom like it’s no big thing.
Like this is where I belong from now on.
We crawl into bed without turning on the lights.
He pulls me against him immediately, wrapping himself around me like he did on the living room floor.
His arm drapes over my waist.
My back presses into his chest.
He kisses the back of my neck once.
“Night,” he murmurs.
“Night,” I whisper.
And we fall asleep like that.
***
The next morning, I wake slowly to warmth.
Jake’s arm is still around me. His hand rests flat against my stomach. His breathing is slow and steady behind me.
I feel… held.
I tilt my head slightly and look over my shoulder.
He’s asleep. Hair messy. Mouth relaxed.
And something inside me settles into place.
I can’t hide it from myself anymore.
I’m in love with him.
With my accidental husband.
My fake dating partner.
The man who doesn’t believe in partnership and runs from commitment.
What a cliché I am.
Falling for the guy I wasn’t supposed to.
I almost laugh at myself.
Jake stirs slightly, blinking awake.
His eyes find mine instantly.
“Morning,” he murmurs.
“Morning.”
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my mouth.
Slow and unhurried.
How can he be so damn sweet?
Then he shifts, stretching slightly before sitting up. “Practice,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.
I prop myself up on one elbow and watch him pull on a T-shirt.
He looks back at me.
Something flickers in his expression.
Warm.
Content.
He leans down one more time and kisses me again, firmer this time.
“I’ll be back later,” he says.
“Okay.”
I lie back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
My heart feels full and terrifyingly exposed at the same time.
I think about his birthday in two days. He hasn’t mentioned it, but I know. I saw the date on the marriage certificate.
I want to make it special for him.
Until then, I have some work to do.
I smile to myself, already looking forward to surprising him with his presents.
***
When the front door finally opens that evening, my heart jumps like it’s programmed to respond to that sound.
Jake steps inside, shoulders tight, jaw set in that post-practice way.
“Hey,” I call from the kitchen.
His expression shifts the second he sees me.
There it is again. That softness.
“Hey,” he replies.
We spend the evening the way we’ve quietly fallen into doing: cooking, talking, eating.
But now there’s something new woven into it.
Between stirring and chopping, Jake steals lingering kisses. Light touches. So many hugs.
God, his hugs are unfairly good.
After dinner, he pushes back his chair and walks toward the sideboard near the hallway.
He clears his throat. “I want to give you something.”
My heart skips. “Is it a present?”
He glances back at me, expression unreadable. “No.”
I frown. “Then what is it?”
He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a small velvet box.
My stomach drops.
“It’s something I owe you,” he says simply.
He steps closer and opens the box.
Inside is a ring.
And let’s just say it has nothing in common with the Vegas version.
This one is… stunning.
Delicate, but unmistakably expensive. A slim band with a diamond that catches the light and fractures it into tiny sparks across the walls.
I stare at it, speechless.
“It’s too much,” I breathe.
“It’s not.”
“It is,” I insist. “Jake, this is—”
“I told you I’d get you something better,” he cuts in gently. “And I haven’t forgotten.”
I shake my head faintly. “Maybe you could’ve gone a little more… budget-friendly?”
He steps closer, closing the box halfway, but not fully.
“I picked out the exact ring I want to give you,” he says quietly. “So don’t insult me by refusing it. You know I can afford it.”
There’s no arrogance in his voice. Just certainty.
“I made a promise,” he repeats.
My chest tightens.
He slides the ring from the box and holds it up.
He takes my left hand gently, sliding the ring onto my finger.
It fits perfectly.
The diamond catches the light again and something in my chest swells.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
His gaze stays on my hand for a moment, then flicks up to my face.
“You like it?”
“I love it,” I say honestly.
And I do.
I step closer and wrap my arms around him.
“Thank you,” I murmur into his chest.
His arms come around me automatically.
“You’re welcome.”
I pull back just enough to look at him.
“I really do love it.”
“Good,” he says.
The evening settles into something warm and quiet after that. We watch something mindless on TV.
He stretches out on the couch with his head in my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I play with his hair absently.
Later, when we head upstairs, I’m still smiling to myself.
I’m brushing my teeth when my phone buzzes on the bathroom counter.
I glance at the screen.
Katia.
My heart stops.
I grab the phone immediately and step into the hallway.
“Katia?” I answer, already moving toward the staircase for privacy. “Where are you? Are you okay? I’ve been trying to—”
“Hi, Tal,” she says.
“Kat. Are you okay?”
There’s a beat of silence that stretches too long before she answers.
“Of course I’m okay. You know me, Tal. I just wanted to check in. How are things at home?”
“I don’t live there anymore,” I say quickly. “I moved out. Katia, do you have a place to stay? Can I see you?”
She ignores the last two questions.
“You don’t live with Dad anymore? Where do you live, then?”
“I’m staying with a friend. It’s complicated. Do you have something to write with? I’ll give you the address.”
“Okay.”
I spell it out carefully. She repeats it once to make sure she got it right.
“Katia,” I say, urgency creeping into my voice, “please tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. Or you can come here. You can stay with me. You don’t have to—”
“I have to go,” she cuts in.
“Katia—”
“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she says.
And then the line goes dead.