I trail Cora and Toni to the door at the end of the shift and lock it behind them, then turn around. The dining room’s dark, the many chandeliers—twenty-six to be exact—are all currently off, leaving just the warm light behind the bar and the rim of white around the kitchen door.
He’s back there, probably still scrubbing away at dirt that nobody else can see.
Which means it’s just the two of us.
Again.
Just knowing that he’s there revs me up. This is the last thing I want, after my call with Frank and the realization that I’m doing something I might not be entirely comfortable with.
At the same time, it’s undeniable, this pull. Stronger than me. I feel guilty and ashamed and, right there, braided in with those two is this low, thumping excitement.
The door swings open, startling me into jumping.
He steps into the room and pauses while the door slaps shut behind him.
He’ll say something now, make a move. He’ll tell me to spread my legs and I’ll do it. I’ll take it.
“That thing always screech like this?”
For a few seconds, I can only blink. “Oh. Um, I guess? I don’t notice it with the music and people talking and so on.”
He nods. “Be right back.”
He disappears into the kitchen, leaving all this nervy anticipation to burn off into nothing. God. Oh,god, I’m a mess. On tenterhooks. Waiting. Hoping. Afraid at the same time. All of this unmet expectation feels like sitting alone on a seesaw, my weight holding me down, while the other side’s flying up, empty. I’m anchored here for half a minute, unable to move. Unsure of where I was headed or what I’d planned to do next.
Just as I start over to the bar for a final sweep before shutting everything down, he comes through the door again, sending my insides tumbling around like clothes in a dryer. He bends and oils the bottom hinge, then does the other two, tests it, adds a bit more oil, and tests it again. Muttering something under his breath, he disappears into the back again and the second he’s gone, it’s like my frozen limbs are freed from their paralysis.
Quickly, I swipe at a surface, grab the keys and my bag, and turn back, ready this time to face him as he swings back in, in all his massive, tattooed glory.
“Here.” I look at the plate in his hand. “Cake.”
My gaze rises to his. “What for?”
“It’s for you.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“No. But you like cake.”
“How do you know this? Why do you keep feeding me cake?”
He grins, not answering my question.
I accept the plate and a fork and take a bite, moaning with pleasure at the rich chocolate, the thick buttercream frosting. “Jake. Oh my god.”
He growls, low, the sound entirely inhuman.
“Mm?” I look up, mouth still full of the most scrumptiously rich blend of sweet and salty and slightly bitter chocolate.
I go still when I see the way he’s watching me. My heart’s thumping hard in my chest.
“Something wrong?” I wipe at my cheek, sure there must be something there.
“Watching you take that first bite’s always a fucking pleasure, but the second?”
What about the second? What do I do? What does he see that no one else has ever commented on? “What? What is it?”
He leans in. “The sound you make when you take that second bite? It’s the exact sound you make when I first sink into that soft pussy.” Slowly, his gaze moves from my mouth to my eyes. “We on for tomorrow?” I can’t move. “Your place?”
