“Sure,” she says again.
I clamp my teeth together and suck in a breath through my nose. I want to tell her she’s being a little brat, but again, I can’t exactly talk when I was the one putting my grubby little paws all over the thing she sticks in her vagina to make herself come. This is what I get for being a curious little shit and wanting to see what all the fuss is about.
“Great,” I bite out, and leave her alone.
TWENTY-ONE
DARCY
“Supper’s on!”Jake calls with an exaggerated accent.
The scent of melty cheese fills the air and I’m doing some combination of zoning out and dozing in the bathtub. I feel a little stronger during this soak, but I still feel guilty for making Jake take care of me.
Worse, I worry what all of this means. Is he just being nice? Is this pity? Or is this extreme babying the sign of bigger feelings cooking under everything?
I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings, and they must show when Jake comes back into the bathroom. The tiniest stitch appears between his brows. “What’s the matter?”
I jump out of my daze. “Nothing. I’m ready to get out. I could use a hand, though.”
“Of course.” Jake rustles around on the other side of the shower curtain, then takes my extended hand. I wobble as I stand, getting a major headrush and wavering into his touch. A hand slides under my arm. “I got you. Try putting one foot out.”
My balance is still shit, and I’m not successful. Jake’s arms band around my front, hauling my wet body out of the tub until we sit in the chair he pulled into the bathroom. I’m sitting naked in his lap, and I squeak at the surprise of it. “Did I hurt you?” he asks.
I’m breathless, eking out a whisper. “No. Thank you.”
A warm towel envelops my shoulders, and we battle to dry me off. I get tangled in the towel and Jake silently takes over, rubbing it over my shoulders and up my neck.
If I thought I needed loving touch when he cuddled me in bed, this is next level. Jake’s caring for me, his movements so steady yet tender.
“You’re being nice to me again,” I say.
A snort puffs onto my shoulder as he moves to dry my stomach. His voice is low. “You deserve nice.”
I crane my neck to look at his face, but his eyes are focused on my shoulders. What I wouldn’t give for him to graze a kiss there right now. Yes, I’m sick and lightheaded but I need to be loved. Adored. Cherished. I feel safe in his arms, on his lap, and I want to hold onto this feeling. Something for the emotional spank bank.
And that emotional security just happens to be remarkably . . . sexy. If this is the kind of care he gives when I’m at my worst, how could we bring out the best in each other?
Our eyes meet, and I’m ravenous in the consumption of his features: short, dark lashes, crow’s feet, the echoes of his dimples while his face is relaxed, those full lips that are still somehow masculine.
The beat, the pressure of the air between us, pulses with heat, and yet, I shiver.
“You got me some clothes?” I ask, breaking the spell.
“Oh, yeah.” Jake shifts to pull my clothes out from under him. The tension lightens again when I see what underwear he settled on for me.
I hold it up with one finger. “Really, Jake? Lingerie? So thoughtful to give me a G-string when I’m sick.”
“I just grabbed whatever?—”
I chuckle. “Oh, like my vibrator?”
Choked sounds leave Jake, but he says nothing. I bend to slide the underwear under my towel. Jake’s hands meet my waist and he helps me stand to shift them up. We pause and, ever-so-slightly, his fingers dig into my flesh. The tiniest whisper of a moan escapes me, and Jake’s thumb swipes a small arc below my ribs.
I want him. I want this. I’m weak in all the ways: physically, emotionally, hell, even spiritually. I want to faint across his lap and have him kiss me back to life, and I know that’s irrational fairy tale imagery.
I’m not living in a fairy tale, so I work with what I’ve got. I let my towel drop.
There’s a sharp intake of breath behind me, and Jake’s hands coast along my lower stomach as I turn to face him. I’m in just that tiny thong, standing while he’s still seated. His face is at my chest-level, right where, if he were so inclined, he could do all sorts of delicious things to me. Jake’s lips part and he looks somewhere to the left of me. His hand clamps tighter on my hip as he bends to get my t-shirt off the floor. “Hope your Brooks and Dunn shirt is okay,” he rasps.
