The café isquiet this morning, the first rush of early birds having been and gone, and I take the moment of calm to clean the tables while they’re empty.
Ethan is busy behind the counter refilling the espresso hopper and restocking the fridges with milk jugs from the back. I’ve had him doing most of the heavy lifting today. Although I’m feeling much better than yesterday, I’m not back to one hundred percent.
I wipe some crumbs from the coffee table by the fireplace, thinking about Jett’s big win, and the texts we shared over the weekend. A rush ripples through me as I think of him getting the picture I sent him, the way he might have looked at it while he…
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear the familiar tinkle of the bell over the front door.
I look up and let my eyes slowly wander up the body of the man who just entered. The confident stride, trim waist, muscular shoulders and arms. The chiseled jaw, flirtatious smirk, and sparkling brown eyes.
“Jett!”I squeal.
The few people who are in the café, busy on laptops and in their work bubble with headphones on, look up to see the commotion. Jett’s smirk turns into a full-blown smile when he sees me, warm and joyful, genuine.
I run over to him, dropping my rag, and throw my arms around his neck when I get there. He responds by squeezing me tight around my waist, and lifting my feet clean off the floor.
If someone was ever skeptical of the validity of our relationship, they wouldn’t be after this. Jett places me back on the floor and holds me back to look at me.
“It’s good to see you doing better,” he says, eyes raking over me, assessing me. His gaze used to make me feel vulnerable, shy, bashful even. But now… the feeling of his eyes on me sends a blissful heat straight down to my lower half.
“Don’t you have press conferences today? Public appearances? I would think you’d be busy after your big win,” I point out.
“I wanted to be here with you. When you said you were having a flare…” Jett shakes his head, a line forming between his brows. “I got the first flight home this morning.”
“I’m okay, really, it’s nothing I’m not used to.” I try to reassure him, but I’m also grinning from ear to ear thinking of Jett rushing home to me. “It’s cute that you were worried about me, though.”
“I was worried about you,” Jett admits.
I know that for him, the admission is difficult. He doesn’t like getting attached, doesn’t want to put himself in the vulnerable position of losing the people he loves. But thismoment makes me wonder if he might actually be starting to fall for me.
“I like being able to take care of you.”
Jett leans down now, and places a kiss on my forehead, sending a flurry of warm, fuzzy feelings through me. When he pulls away, his gaze is still fixed on me, on my mouth, and then his lips are on mine, capturing me in a kiss that goes all the way down to my toes.
His lips are tender and soft, gentle and caring, a different kind of kiss than any of the others we’ve shared before, and something behind my ribs swells.
All I can do is let out a sigh when our mouths separate, my mind a jumbled mess of thoughts that I can’t put into a coherent sentence. I barely have a moment to think, before Jett has put his arm around my neck and pulls me close so he can whisper in my ear.
The reverberation of his voice against the shell of my ear causes goosebumps to cover my arms, and I shiver at the warmth of his breath.
“I missed you, wife,” he murmurs so that only I can hear.
Despite the show I’m positive he’s putting on for whoever is in the café, that moment is just for me. I’m still too stunned to think of anything to say, when Jett pulls away from me and asks, “Do you have time to go upstairs?”
I nod and turn towards Ethan to let him know I’m stepping away for a minute. He gives me a knowing look and returns to the order he’s busy taking.
Jett follows me up the stairs at the back of the café, his hand finding the curve of my ass behind me as I make my way up to my apartment. He gives it a light smack on my snug jeans, pulling a giggle from my throat.
I let us both into my apartment and shut the door behind me once we’re inside.
Jett paces around my apartment, as I lean my back against the door, my hands behind me. I watch him, his energy almost untameable, almost desperate. He stops pacing and looks at me from where he’s standing in the middle of my kitchen. He’s breathing hard and fast, his eyes wild.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, almost teasing, because I have a feeling it’s the last thing Jett wants to do.
“I don’t want to talk,” he says, confirming my suspicions.
The corner of my mouth tugs upward, thinking back to all the things he told me he wanted to do to me when he got home. The way he described kissing every inch of my body, touching me in all the places I’ve only just discovered.
“I want to do all the things we talked about, Poppy. I’ve had to control myself for so long while I was away, and now I need it, I need you. All of you.”
