Finally, the elevator reaches my floor. My apartment is only two doors down, and I’ve just extracted the key from my purse when the heavy thud of footsteps echoes up the emergency staircase. I whip my head around, my heart catching in my throat as a breathless figure bursts through the door.
“Jake? Did you forget something?”
He nods wordlessly as he steps closer. His eyes run over my face, the muscles in his jaw twitching. I’m just about to ask if he wants to come inside, but before the words leave my mouth, his lips crash down on mine.
Instantly, my body is on fire. Jake takes my face in his hands, cupping my cheeks and lifting me toward him. I twist my fingers in his hair, tugging gently as he walks us backward until we stumble into the doorframe.
His hips pin me to the wall as our kisses grow frenzied, his hands working their way through my hair before sliding down to my waist, pulling me closer. I gasp when he drags his lips away from mine, but before I can complain, he’s planting a trail of kisses down the tender skin of my throat.
I’m not exactly sure how long we stay like this, our bodies a tangle of fingers and hot breath, before I’m able to come up for air.
“Do you want to come in?” I finally manage. My voice is ragged, and I can feel his heartbeat hammering through his shirt as erratically as my own. Jake’s eyes burn into mine as he nods, and I fumble with the lock before we stumble into the dark apartment.
Suddenly unable to recall the location of my light switch, I trip through my pitch-black entryway and the back of my head collidesagainst the wall with a soft thud. We erupt into giggles before his mouth finds mine again in the dark and swallows the sound entirely.
His hands grip the back of my thighs as he lifts me up, and my fingers curl around the soft cotton of his shirt. “Bedroom,” I rasp, pointing toward the room at the end of the hall. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist as he walks us toward the doorway, using one foot to kick the door open.
When Jake’s legs collide with the edge of my bed, he sinks onto it and pulls me into his lap to straddle him. My hands find their way under the hem of his shirt, rolling over the hard ridges of his abs.Damn, you could wash laundry on these things.
I lift my shirt over my head and drop it behind me, grateful to have worn the nicest lingerie I own tonight. Jake bites down on his lower lip, his eyes darkening as they roam over my exposed skin. Then he dips his head to suck gently along the underside of my jaw. One hand presses into the small of my back, gently holding me in place, as the other trails up my spine to the hook of my bra. I intake a breath as it releases, and his calloused fingertips slip beneath the loosened fabric. He palms my breast, swirling a thumb around my nipple, and heat pools between my legs.
“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs against my skin.
I yank my fingers through his hair and pull his face upward to kiss me. With a groan, he flips us over so I’m lying on my back. He unbuttons my jeans and tugs them off, tossing them over the side of the bed. Hooking one of my legs over his shoulder, he presses his mouth against the inside of my thigh, his tongue tracing small circles against my skin as he descends closer and closer to where I want him most. By the time he slides one hand into my underwear, stroking his fingers over me, I can hardly breathe.
He pauses to meet my eyes. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice low and raspy. Pulse skittering, I nod wordlessly. It’s more than okay, actually. I can’t remember the last time I wanted anyone, oranything, this much. I keep waiting for a sense of self-preservation to kick in, for my body to remind me that this is absolutely not something I do with a man I’ve just met. Instead, it does the opposite, arching toward Jake like it’s being pulled by some magnetic force. And yet somehow, I still want more. Ineedmore.
“Jake,” I whisper, reaching for the waistband of his jeans. He inhales sharply as I slide a hand inside.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask. His brow furrows and he shakes his head.
“No, I don’t carry… I mean, I didn’t expect…”
“Wait, hang on,” I say. I yank open my night table drawer and reach inside, groping around blindly until my fingertips brush the edges of a foil package.Thank god for Ali. A few months back, she had extracted a handful of Trojans from her purse and shoved them inside the drawer so that I would be prepared “on the off chance that I ever tire of the Virgin Mary routine.”
Jake covers his body with mine and kisses me again. His tongue parts my lips, and I gasp as he eases himself inside of me.
“Lexi,” he breathes, and something stirs in my chest as he begins to move. We find our rhythm together, and I’m vaguely aware that I’m calling his name as the waves of pleasure build higher and higher. Then they crash down over me, erasing every thought entirely.
4
THE FIRST RAYS OFearly morning light rouse me from sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I take in Jake’s lightly snoring form on the other side of the bed. He’s lying on his side, facing me. I drink in the sight of him; his cheek is pressed into the pillow, pink lips pursed, brown hair falling messily over his forehead. And I can’t help but grapple with the strangest feeling of familiarity. Like somehow, I’ve known him my entire life.
Ridiculous,I chide myself. Jake is a musician, and a flirty, charismatic one at that. This feeling is nothing more than the by-product of his magnetic presence. He probably charms his way into a different girl’s bed every weekend.
Rolling over, I check the clock on my nightstand: 7:08A.M.Time to start the day.
I slide out of bed, grabbing a sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants from my drawer. Tiptoeing down the hallway, I make my way into the kitchen. A rush of excitement snakes through my belly at the prospect of cooking breakfast for someone, an opportunity I haven’t enjoyed in ages. What should I make? Eggs Benedict with homemade hollandaise? Crème brûlée French toast? I scroll through my mental Rolodex before landing on my favorite recipe.
I open a cabinet, taking a moment to admire my baking supplies. The rest of my life might be a hot mess, but these? These are pristine. Neatly stacked, neatly labeled, and neatly stored in matching OXO containers. I grab the flour, sugar, and baking powder, and have just pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge when the bedroom door creaks open.
Jake pads into the kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. One wayward lock of hair sticks straight up as he rubs sleep from his eyes. Good lord, he is adorable.
“Damn, you get up early. Do you moonlight as a farmer?”
I smile as I rinse a handful of blueberries.
“I’ve always been an early riser,” I admit. “Though that particular side gig might be worth it for the fresh eggs. Speaking of which, are you hungry?”
