Jake: Am I a bad groomsman if I ditch this fool to be with you?
Naya: You must stay with your groom, for better or worse.
Naya: Isn’t there a bros before hoes clause in the man code?
Jake: The loophole to that clause is a gorgeous woman who thinks I’m cute.
I closed the text window and looked up to see Felicia’s self-satisfied smile.
“Who’s that?” She sipped from her cup, giving me a knowing look over the rim.
“Shut up.”
Eighteen
I set my glass on the counter and tied my robe. The scent of the lavender-infused candle filled my small bathroom and wafted into the bedroom. My muscles had relaxed after dinner with Felicia and the kids and two glasses of wine, but I was still a little jittery from seeing Davis and getting his texts. Outside my window, the streetlights cast circles of golden light over the uneven sidewalks below.
My phone chirped, and I spun to retrieve it from my nightstand, hoping it was Jake. It was, though on the screen was a photo of four scantily clad women doing shots with a guy who looked to be around forty.
Jake: Remember the woo-hoo girls from the night we met? Their clones are here.
Naya: Are you mixing and mingling?
Jake: I am texting you.
Naya: Let me guess . . . you’d prefer an intimate, dignified gathering of gentlemen, sipping scotch in high-backed chairs while smoking cigars? Discussing policy and finance?
Jake: Because I’m a railroad tycoon from the 20s?
I carried my phone to the bed and lay back against the pillows, a grin on my face as my thumbs moved across my screen.
Naya: Or a modern-day railroad tycoon.
Jake: Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.
Naya: Ba-dum-dum. What would you prefer to be doing?
Jake: Anything involving you.
I read and reread the last text, goose bumps rising on my skin and my thighs clenching.
Naya: Skydiving? Bungee jumping? Basketball?
Jake: You’re funny.
My fingers danced over my collarbone, and I remembered the taste of dulce de leche and scotch. My thumbs hovered over the screen in a temporary text paralysis. Arousal unfurled from low in my belly and spread out to my fingertips, which rested over my racing heart. I slid my thumb over the screen, unsure where this boldness was coming from all of a sudden. The ache between my legs definitely had something to do with it, but it was more knowing somehow that Jake would not judge me, that he’d go with me down the rabbit hole.
Naya: Something naughtier?
Naya: What’s on the table?
Jake: My jaw. Are you sexting me?
His last messages sent a jolt through me, and my center pulsed. I didn’t exactly know what sexting entailed, but something told me Jake would be good at it, and I wanted to find out.
Naya: Which emoji am I supposed to use?
Jake: I’m no expert, but . . .
I watched the three dots disappear, and then the cake emoji popped up on the screen. I laughed, the sound filling my bedroom, and an oddly gleeful feeling mixed with my arousal.
Naya: How did you know that would get me so hot?
Jake: Lucky guess. I like getting you hot.
Jake: Makes me imagine all the different ways I could . . . warm you up.
My nipples tightened to hard buds under my robe at the memory of his big hands pulling my body against him, the firm way he’d held me to him, and his dimples, deep divots that appeared when he smiled. All of it pushed me on.
Naya: Between that and the cake, you’re really succeeding.
Jake: Was it mostly the cake?
Naya: How do you know me so well?
Naya: I’m just about to get in the bath and am all alone imagining you warming me up . . .
Jake: Whatever will you do?
I snapped a photo of my fingers on the tied belt of my robe, and hit send along with the message Ten fingers, remember?
Being bold was natural with him. Of course, being behind a screen made it easier, but I had this sense he wouldn’t think badly of me, that I could be this person with him without any real consequences.
Jake: You’re killing me.
Jake: Are you touching yourself?
I grazed my free hand between my breasts, the tip of my middle finger over one pert nipple. Him asking felt so intimate, like he could see me. The thought of his eyes on me was more exciting than I would have predicted.
Naya:
Jake: I want to continue this conversation, but I’m in public. The thing you’re tempting me to do would get me arrested.
Naya: I don’t want to be responsible for yet ANOTHER man landing in jail for public indecency.
Jake: So, you have a pattern. A dirty pattern.
Naya: Hence the bath.
Jake: There’s a nice tub in my hotel room if you wanted to use it. I could meet you there in an hour.