“You’re the only one who’s ever seen it,” I said, resting my cheek into his palm.
“What?”
Oh crap, why did I admit that? I’m pretty sure that’s on the list of things not to say after sex or, you know, ever. “It’s embarrassing.”
“What did you mean?”
“I’ve never, you know . . . with someone else.”
“Ever?”
Kill me now. “I just never . . . got there, and the guys never seemed to . . . um, I don’t know, notice or care, I guess.”
Gently, he pulled my hands from my face. “You’ve been with selfish men.”
Understatement.
He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Am I a bad guy if I’m kind of proud to be the first?”
“Not in my book.”
“I like the bossy side of you. And you’ll tell me if you want something different, right? Harder, slower, to the left.” He grinned, swiping his thumbs in slow circles at the nape of my neck. “Or just . . . keep going.”
I laughed. “I promise to be as bossy as possible.” Though, so far, he seemed to know exactly what I wanted.
I tucked against him and he rolled so we could slide under the sheet and comforter, creating a cocoon around our bodies. “Stay with me tonight?”
“I was really hoping you wouldn’t kick me out.” Jake pressed in behind me, his arm wrapping around my waist.
A few days. A few days. A few days. Enveloped in his warmth, I had to remind myself what this was, because he felt like safety, like home, like more.
Fifteen
A streak of sunshine traversed my small room, leaving my face in a warm smattering of light. The blissful, bold euphoria of the night before, that magical state of sexual release, floated around me until that moment and then hurtled to the ground. I looked at the closed door to my bathroom, where the sound of running water emanated. What was I thinking, putting my career at risk for sex? Admittedly, it was really good, did-I-dream-that sex, but still.
I had to find some clothing. I needed to think clearly, and being naked wasn’t helping. Jake’s shirt on the floor was closer than my dresser, and I snatched it up, pulling the buttons closed and rolling up the sleeves. I paced by the window, biting the side of my thumbnail.
I could tell him I changed my mind. Maybe I’ll just ghost him after he leaves.
The door opened, and Jake emerged, all tan muscles and piercing eyes. His black boxer briefs rode low on his hips, revealing his flat stomach, and he flashed me a sweet, playful grin.
“Good morning, Bossy. I like how you look in my shirt.” His eyes skated up my body.
Well, my career might not mean that much to me, after all.
“I’m not sure I love that nickname. Do you really think I’m bossy?”
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his warm embrace for a soft kiss.
“I like that you say what you want, but I can pick another name.” He rubbed his chin and let out a thoughtful “hm.”
“I have to weigh my options,” he said, sliding a hand down my back. “I could call you Fear Factor, if you prefer? I’m assuming you’ll be digging into my psyche to figure out any other phobias and how else to test my mettle.”
I rested my hands on his shoulders. “Hmm, what are your other fears? Clowns? Snakes?”
“No way I’m telling you. Who knows what you’d have me doing before I flew back to North Carolina.”
Subtle reminder: He is leaving. “Wow. North Carolina. That’s so far away. There’s so much I don’t know about you.” I gazed around the room, playing with the ring on my right hand.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Naya like a papaya. Are you nervous?” His hands settled at my waist. I hadn’t realized I’d been shifting from one foot to the other. “Work?”
“How did you know?”
He shrugged. “Just a guess. It is a little dicey, ethically, but I’ll talk to our HR person.”
I inhaled slowly and willed my hands to stop fidgeting. “Do you want to change the plan?”
He shook his head, and a mixture of relief and more questions flooded my chest.
“Isn’t it a conflict of interest for you? Besides, what would you tell HR? ‘I screwed the brains out of one of the faculty members at the school, but it won’t impair my judgment’？”
Jake chuckled in response, and I cracked a smile, despite my anxiety—his humor was contagious. “Our HR director is my mother’s age and kind of reminds me of my fourth-grade teacher, so I won’t say I screwed your brains out . . .” His grin widened. “Unless you prefer I give her the full play-by-play?” He slid his fingers under the shirt to tickle my ribs, and goose bumps prickled as his palms skirted up my bare skin.