CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
He drives inside me with a single sleek, determined thrust, and I’m ready for him, angling upwards, feet dug into the mattress.
My legs fall open wide, boneless. He plants his elbows alongside my shoulders and bears down for leverage, his fingers tangled in my hair.
We breathe what the other exhales, taking each other in on a molecular level.
He’s primal. Painting my skin with his sweat.
He’s got his bottom lip sucked between his teeth in a grimace of pleasure-pain and barely restrained hunger.
But I’ve never felt so safe. So worshipped.
Crashing into each other, we’re as unbound and wild as the storm outside, and nearly as drenched.
Finally, Jake kisses me, mumbling urgent words against my mouth that I taste more than I understand.
He spreads his knees even wider for extra leverage, doubling down on the pace of his thrusts.
He surges into me so hard, he pushes us up the mattress, closer to the fire.
The heat of it blasts our sweat-slick skin.
Jake’s hair falls fully into his eyes, and locks of mine stick to my forehead, my neck.
It’s like I’m clinging to Icarus himself, and I’d gladly fly into the sun with this man if it means I get to fall with him.
Jake bucks over me, erratic now. With a shuddering groan, he goes boneless for a moment, then he locks himself to me with trembling arms. His entire body jerks as he empties himself into me, his ragged cries filling the room.
I’ve never heard him come so loudly, so frantic.
Oh god, the sounds this man makes as we unravel, peeling everything back until the only thing that remains is our urgent, infinite need for each other.
Every cell in my body vibrates, faster, faster, as he urges me to meet him in the place he’s just gone.
It’s a soaking storm of our own making, and I’m desperate to let it take me.
Come with me.
And I do.
* * *
Later, after we’ve cleaned up and put fresh linen on the makeshift bed, we laze in front of the fire.
“This is beautiful.” I trace a fingertip along the Icarus tattoo that covers most of his thigh. “But doesn’t he die in his story?”
He makes a rumbly, thoughtful noise. “Don’t we all? Eventually?” Jake stacks his hands behind his head.
“Obviously. But isn’t Icarus’s death his own fault? It’s a cautionary tale about hubris, right?”
“Mm. I see it differently.” He doesn’t elaborate.
His reluctance to talk about this in detail makes me tread carefully. Softly, I say, “Will you tell me more?”
Jake takes a big breath that expands his cheeks. He blows it out and sits up, facing me on the bed. I sit up, too, crossing my legs under me.
“Icarus wouldn’t have died if he hadn’t been caught up in his father’s ambitions,” he says.
I’ve come to recognize this tension in his posture, and the tiny lines around his eyes. There’s some kind of internal struggle happening here. Quietly, I sit and wait.
“Icarus was innocent,” Jake finally says. “Young. His father’s choices are what landed him in prison. Then when they broke free, his father may have been the one to give him wings, but Icarus himself decided what he’d do with them. On his own terms.”
“You didn’t—” I look down at my hands. “Ah … go to prison, did you?”
Jake surprises me by laughing hard. As it fades, he looks at me, genuinely puzzled. “Wait—really? No, love, I haven’t been in prison.” Some of the mirth fades fast, and his expression falters. “My father is just a nasty piece of work.”
Gently, I say, “I’m sorry, Jake.” I want to say more.
I want to ask more. But as close as we’ve grown, we’re still not at a point where I feel like I can delve into his personal life for more than he’s willing to offer.
I’m surprised I had the guts to prompt him for more a moment ago.
I’m even more surprised that he gave it to me.
He takes a big breath and blinks a few times. It’s a reset. “Right. Well.” He leans towards me to press a kiss to my temple. “Enough of that.”
In the next breath, Jake rolls me sideways and pins me underneath him. He’s levered up with his hands pressed into the mattress next to my shoulders, eyes locked in on mine. His hips rock to nudge my thighs apart. His hair hangs around his face as he looks down at me.
We’re in pajamas now—him in a pair of festive cotton boxers printed with red and green “HO HO HO” all over, me in snug boyshort panties and one of Jake’s soft white V-neck tees. I feel him get hard the moment he settles between my legs.
“Well, well, well.” I lock my ankles around his back. “Someone’s awake again.”
His low laugh rumbles through me. “That chap has always had a hard time settling down in the evenings.” His tone is playful, but I watch in divine fascination as his pupils burst wide-open with desire.
He bears down against the knot of nerves beneath the thin fabric of my panties.
I know he’s doing this to distract me away from going too deep into the Icarus story. And it’s working.
The moment is ruined when my stomach growls. Loudly.
Jake’s eyes widen. He raises to his knees and scoots backwards, then he bends to press his ear to my belly like he’s speaking into a vintage telephone. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
I throw my head back against my pillow and laugh, threading my fingers through his hair.
When my stomach growls again, he whips upright and looks at me in mock horror.
“Jesus Christ. I need to get some food in you before that thing breaks loose and terrorizes the countryside.” He hops up from our nest to pad over to the kitchen. His erection hangs heavy in the “HO HO HO” boxers, swaying a bit as he walks. It’s absurd and unbearably sexy at the same time.
I wrap a quilt around me and join him in the tiny kitchen. Jake hesitates before he opens the refrigerator. “I’ve just realized—I have no idea if there’s any food here.”
My stomach rumbles again. This time, it’s so long and loud, it sounds like the words of some cryptic, undiscovered language.
Jake stands motionless, glancing down to my belly and back to my eyes. “Am I in danger?”
“Only if you ask nicely.” Swooping the quilt outwards like wings, I lunge forward to wrap my arms around him.
Jake laughs and lifts me off my feet to plunk me down in one of the chairs at the table near the window. “Moment of truth.” He glances back at me. “Let’s hope there’s something in here.”
Fortunately, there’s plenty. Helena stocked the refrigerator and cupboards, but most of it is breakfast food.
Jake attempts to make something for us. He scorches the toast and burns the eggs when he tries to do both at once.
Together, we manage to make a nice breakfast for dinner, and as is our habit, we curl up in our fireside nest to enjoy it.
“Do you think we’ll ever sleep in an actual bedroom together?” Jake says. “Or eat at an actual table?”
“Well,” I say around a mouthful of toast, “we’ve got about five days to find out.” I meant it to be funny, but the bread is suddenly dry in my mouth, and I struggle to swallow.
“Only five?” Jake doesn’t look up from his plate. He pushes eggs around for a moment before laying his fork down. Then he meets my eyes. “I guess we’d better make the most of them, then.”
* * *
Jake falls asleep an hour or so before I do.
I lie beside him, his thigh stacked over mine, the gentle sound of his breathing a counterpoint to my own heartbeat.
I watch the dim embers of the fire shimmer and shift on the ceiling of the cottage, and I listen to the lonesome howl of the wind in the eaves.
Outside the window, bare branches rattle like bones.
I’ve never felt anything like this. This soul-deep peace born from safety and stillness.
Maybe the reason this is so perfect is because it’s not meant to last. Often the most ephemeral things are the most beautiful, aren’t they?
Could a single snowflake possibly be more lovely if it lingered longer?
“I think I’m in love with you.” I whisper the words directly over Jake’s heart. I’m not ready for him to hear them, but maybe this way, he’ll feel them.