The bath is drawn. And Jack’s already in it.
I race up the stairs of the stoop and push through the front door. “Honey, I’m home!”
After deliveries the next day, I plop down on the couch in the living room. Everything aches. Even after a very hot, very “relaxing” bath thenight before, my muscles are protesting the constant motion of the past few days. Between deliveries and bar shifts, I feel like I’ve been on my feet for a week straight.
Jack bounds down the stairs a minute later. “I thought I heard you come in.”
“I’m dead.” I fling one arm over my face, the other dangling off the side of the couch. If the floristry business doesn’t work out, I might have a future in acting.
He sits on the end of the couch, taking my feet in his lap. Making good use of those strong fingers, he presses into the balls of my feet until I’m literally moaning out loud. He gives me a bemused smile. “Would another bath help?”
“Probably. But only if you’re not in it, and even then I don’t know if I can ever fully relax in a bath again after last night.” The water wasn’t the only thing that was hot, if you know what I mean. “I’m like one of Pavlov’s dogs. See bath, get turned on.”
“What if I promise to stay out of the bath, and also promise to take care of resulting turned on–ness whenever you’re ready for me?” He moves his hands up to my calves, those fingers kneading my aching muscles.
“That offer sounds like it’s too good to be true.” I prop myself up on my elbows so I can look at his adorable face properly. “What’s the catch?”
“You let me take you out to dinner tonight.”
“So you’re actually offering me a massage, then a bath, then an orgasm, then dinner?” I flop back on the couch. “Now I know I must be dreaming.”
He stands, gently replacing my feet back on the sofa, before heading up the stairs to my bathroom. “I usually like to go for two.”
“Two what?”
He winks at me. “Orgasms.”
Two hours later, dressed in comfy jeans and bundled up in our cozy coats, we head out of the brownstone and over to PDA Pizza, all the while indulging in a little PDA ourselves. Jack takes my hand the moment we reach street level, lacing our fingers together, his thumb rubbing my knuckles as we walk.
It’s weird.
Nice, of course. But weird. I wasn’t actually exaggerating when I told him my last boyfriend was in junior high. I don’t do relationships, I certainly don’t do living with boyfriends, and I sure as hell don’t do PDA. But the warmth of Jack’s palm pressed against mine, and the steady feel of his walking beside me—well. It does things. To my insides. They’re considerably warmer and squishier than ever before. And I like it. I like him.
Not even Jack’s hands are enough to distract me as we walk by the space for lease, still just a block away from the brownstone, still empty and waiting. I subconsciously drift closer to the brick building, my eyes roaming the window as if there might’ve been some change in the less than twenty-four hours since I last saw it.
Jack notices my distracted gaze and pulls us out of the way of foot traffic. “What’s this?”
I tug on his hand, not wanting to get into all of that while we’re on our way to dinner, but he doesn’t budge. “Nothing. Just a space for lease Gem noticed last night when we were walking home.”
He cups his hand against the smudged glass, leaning in to get a better look. “You didn’t mention it last night.”
“I was distracted for some reason.” I bump his hip with mine. “And it’s no big deal. Really, nothing to mention.”
“Have you been thinking about opening a storefront?” He pulls away from the glass, eyes searching mine.
“No.” I pretend to be casually looking through the window, but really I’m just avoiding his gaze. “I mean, it’d be a big step, and not one I can afford at the present moment. I don’t know if I’m ready for such a huge leap.”
“Did you look to see what they’re asking for rent?”
“Nah. No need.” I tug on his hand again. “Let’s go. All those orgasms made me hungry.”
But the man will not be deterred. He doesn’t even blush at my mention of multiple orgasms. Instead he takes out his phone, punching in the number listed on the sign.
“Jack, what are you doing?” Shifting my weight between my feet, I’m tempted to reach up and try to grab his phone from him. “I said I wasn’t interested.”
“No, you didn’t. You said you didn’t know if you’re ready.” He holds up a hand to stop me from responding, turning his attention to whoever is on the other end of his phone call. “Hi, yes, my name’s Jack Thomas, and I’m interested in your space for lease on Sixth in Park Slope.” He’s quiet for a minute, nodding and driving me crazy, givingme no indication of what’s being said. “Oh, great. Yeah, we’re right out front. See you soon.”
“See you soon? See who soon?”
