“Do you like it?” he asks, slipping a tender hand around my waist as he returns to my side.
“I absolutely love it. Are you telling me there’s been this lush oasis up here the whole time, and you never showed me?”
“We were usually busy doing other things,” he reminds me with amusement.
“Still, Jake, this is beyond beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He lowers to kiss my temple and silently encourages me to take the three steps down to the exotic wood decking.
As we walk up to the table and closer to the kitchen, a mouth-watering smell reaches my nostrils. That’s when I see white smoke twirling out of a large smoker’s chimney. The kitchen is more equipped than I first thought, and I notice an oven, a small fridge, and a griddle.
“Do you use this space often?”
“As much as we can every summer. We’ve been a little busy this year, but ever since I bought this place, we usually spend our evenings here as soon as the weather is mild enough until far into autumn. Eli likes to climb up the emergency stairs to sunbathe. I’ve caught the fucker as naked as a worm more than once.”
I smile at that, continuing my exploration of the magnificent space while he follows a few paces behind. “Who handles the plants?”
“I used to, but I don’t have enough free time anymore. I only do the ones in my flat. I set timers to water everything, and a guy comes once a month to clean up and take care of the plants.”
“I see.” My hands graze the green leaves of what looks like a Juniper.
When I reach the hot tub, I dip my fingers in the clear water. It’s cold, which I suppose is expected as they probably only heat it before use.
“Want me to turn it on?” he offers, as if reading my thoughts.
“Not tonight, but we’re definitely doing this soon.” As I say that, I send him a very suggestive side glance. He catches it, of course, and something naughty appears on his dashing features.
“I don’t recall sex in a spa being on your list, red.”
“We’ll say it’s on my personal list, then.”
Appreciation flickers in his gaze as he pulls me closer, plastering my front to his muscular body. “And how long is that one?”
“Oh, way too long to write down and ever-growing.”
“Music to my fucking ears.”
He apparently doesn’t care about the lipstick any longer because he claims my mouth earnestly. I, too, forget about it and answer with matching intensity, allowing our tongues to mingle the way they crave to. His hands are all over me, pulling me into his embrace like he wishes we could be just one being.
When he pulls away, I’m panting and heated, aware that my face must be flushed with smudged lipstick all over—just like him. “Oh no, we made a mess,” he lets out, his tone suspiciously unbothered. Holding back a proud grin, he pulls out something from his back pocket. “Good thing I snatched the makeup wipes when I dropped your bag.”
So that’s why he took longer than expected. Torn between amusement and surprise at his cunningness, I take the wipe he offers before he pulls one out for himself. We clean up and then do damage control on one another. I can’t shake my entertained grin the entire time.
Something rings in the kitchen, and Jake reacts to it. “Ah, that’s the scalloped potatoes,” he says before taking off.
I follow him to the kitchen and watch as he deactivates the alarm on his iPad on the counter. With expert motions, he takes out a dish filled with perfectly golden potatoes, which are thinly sliced and bathed in a creamy sauce.
“That looks delicious,” I appreciatively note.
“This is my signature dish, so get used to it, love.”
Once the potatoes are returned to the turned-off oven, he moves on to the smoker and opens it to check the meat. The smell when he lifts the lid makes me salivate, and I find myself wondering if I really deserve such a man. An artist who cooks, has a heart of gold, and fucks like a god? It’s like I’m cashing in all of my karma points at once.
As soon as his inspection is over, he returns all of his attention to me. “Alright, love. I have champagne, or I have a fruity red from the Napa Valley. The red’s for the meat, but if you want a glass now, it’s been decanting for over an hour, so it should be perfect.”
“The wine sounds great. No need to open two bottles, wombat.” The nickname really grew on him because his face lights up when I use it, and he can’t help but give me a kiss, like a little reward.
“I truly don’t mind opening the champagne.”
