Slower

by Deana Birch

  She wasn’t smiling, and her gaze fluttered to the floor. Good. That was much better than her being overly confident, and it sure as shit beat regretful.

  “Good night, baby.”

  I stepped back and turned to leave. When I got to the doorway of the kitchen, I stopped and smacked a hand on the doorframe. “Oh, and don’t send me a text in an hour saying that was ‘just a kiss.’”

  32

  LOUANA

  * * *

  Merde.

  Fuck.

  Merde.

  I shouldn’t have kissed Jake. But, oh, my sweet Lord, it was just as good as I remembered. Maybe better. And how much could a girl take? The, “I need you” line had actually created a puddle between my legs. I scolded myself and hopped down off the counter. I needed to focus on the fact that he was going to be my neighbor and how he and the sweet, conniving old woman had plotted against me. Staying mad at Fern would never be an option; there was no malice in her actions. Come to think of it, Jake’s intentions weren’t terrible, either. He was trying to pick up the pieces of his life and asking for a little help.

  No. He was actively trying to get me back. Everything had become so blurry, and I certainly hadn’t helped it by caving into my desires and encouraging him. Maybe I could be his friend. Maybe I could help him through this, and both of us would be able to move on. Yeah, sure. Except for the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room who was laughing in my face and holding a sign with one very hard truth written in bold. I wanted Jake back. I wanted Jake back in my kitchen, in my bed, on the couch, in the shower, in the closet. In my heart.

  Yep, that kiss was a shitty idea.

  I called my mom, and without hearing the juicy details, she was able to talk me down from the ledge and reminded me that life is about finding happiness, not avoiding it. My mom gave great advice. I hung up feeling better and climbed into bed.

  If I was going to let Jake back into my heart, it would be on my terms. None of his bulldozing bullshit. Dates. Slow. My phone beeped with a new message.

  * * *

  Jake: You make me happy.

  * * *

  Good to know he wasn’t going to make it easy.

  I escaped early in the morning and threw myself into work. Mario and I had lunch together in the conference room. We talked a little about our strategy for Matthew Schiller and the best ways to rein him in. I called our client after lunch and invited him to come in the next afternoon. He voiced his disappointment at not getting in sooner but I explained Mario needed time to “simmer”— an expression I had stolen from Jake.

  Jake’s Jeep was in its usual spot when I got home. I walked through the empty courtyard and climbed the stairs to what I now knew as his apartment. The door was ajar, and I gave it a light rap with my knuckles before opening it completely.

  The floor struck me first. It was a wide-plank dark oak. It came off clean and warm at the same time. The walls were a cream color with white trim, and the odor of their fresh coat of paint hung in the air. The layout was the same as in my place, and I wandered to the kitchen, where I found Jake.

  He was screwing in the handle of a drawer and looked up with a smile.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “I’m ridiculously jealous of your apartment.” Forget the new floors and clean walls. The kitchen was to die for. Especially if you loved to cook, like me. The appliances were stainless steel and brand new. The cabinets matched in a similar shade of grey, and the countertop was a thick, dark grey granite. It all would have seemed modern and stark, but the wooden floors continued into the kitchen and gave it a perfect balance of warm and cold. And the light from the window brightened the entire room.

  “Wanna see the rest?”

  He led me to the bedroom, where he had continued the flooring on one of the walls and the other three were the same cream as the living and dining rooms. The closet doors matched the light color, and if I was drooling in the kitchen, I was swimming in saliva when we hit the bathroom. The floor was dark grey tile, and Jake had managed two sinks where one had been. But the star of the small room was the walk-in shower.

  “Oh, my God, Jake.” I kicked off my heels and stepped into the bathroom. “This is insane!” He beamed with pride from the doorway. I ran my hand around the counter and went over to the shower. The rectangular tiles were grey, brown, and beige. The fixtures were chrome, and the shower was so spacious, it beckoned me to enter. And when I did, I wasn’t alone for long. No need to turn the hot water on for steam; Jake brought his own.

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t imagining you naked in here,” he told me.

  Yep, full steam ahead.

  “You have a dirty mind.”

  “Then I’m in the right place.” His eyebrows gave a quick hop. “Jesus Christ, I love you in that dress.” My green wrap dress had always been one of his favorites. His fingers glided down my neck, slid in between the layers of the long V-neck and onto my bare skin, then stopped at the belt and gave it a tiny tug. I swallowed hard as all my senses stood at attention. His sleepy brown bedroom eyes met mine.

  “I think I need a repeat of last night,” he said.

  I knew I did. So, I went for it. Right there in the shower and fully dressed. I pushed his back against the tile, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed him furiously while letting my hands get reacquainted with his rock-hard abs. This time, I owned the kiss—and I was not going to let him come up for air. And it was my way of telling him I was back in the game and ready to play.

  I moaned into him, grabbed a fistful of his soft hair, and claimed his utterly delicious mouth.

  And then I stopped. My body was so pissed off at the baby steps my mind was imposing that it almost betrayed me by tearing off my own dress. But if we were going to do this, it had to be the right way. I walked out of the shower, picked up my heels, and called to Jake from over my shoulder.

  “I’m making couscous if you’re interested.”

  He shouted back, “I’ll be down as soon as I’m done drowning in cold water.”

  After we ate, Jake and Archie went on a walk, and I sat with my recovering and sangria-slinging buddy alone in the courtyard.

  “You two seem to be getting along better,” Fern said.

  “Mmm.” There was no need for details.

  “You’re not angry at me for letting him move in?”

  “You’re impossible to be mad at. He just needs to slow down. Last time we jumped into the deep end way too quickly. I don’t want to feel like he’s pushing me.” I let out a long breath, unsure I was doing the right thing.

  “Do you mind if I tell him that? It might help …”

  “I wish he could figure it out for himself, but it’s really not in his nature. So, yeah. You can drop the hint. Maybe he’ll listen to you.” I cleared the remainder of our dishes and headed into my apartment. It was no surprise when Jake knocked on my door.

  I stood blocking his entry.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “Not tonight. I have a script to read and a bit of work to get ready for New York.”

  The hope fell from his face, but he wasn’t done. “Will you go bed shopping with me on Saturday? My apartment in Venice is furnished, so I need to get one before I can move in, and you know me and your bed….”

  “Sure.”

  He leaned in, gave me a simple peck on the cheek, and said goodnight.

  He didn’t push. A small but important step in the right direction. Fern had obviously clued him in.

  33

  JAKE

  * * *

  In the mattress store, it was hard not to reach for her hand. I so desperately wanted people to know she was with me. She was my girl. And not like an ogre—it was more pride. But I was heeding Fern’s advice and stifling every instinct in my body that wanted to rush things. And at that moment, my instincts wanted to lift up the black cotton dress she had on, rip off her panties—which were also black cotton, by the way; I knew exactly the ones from the line they made around
her insane ass—and fuck her silly right there against the white mattress she was bouncing on.

  Great. Now I was sporting half wood in my pants because I had allowed my mind to wander. I needed to focus. I conjured the image of my brother’s nasty yellow toenails in my head and got back to buying a bed.

  Truth be told, I didn’t want a new bed. I had hoped that by this time, I would already be back in hers. But she was proving to be more of a challenge than I had bargained for. There was her laughable attempt to make me jealous—I saw through that shit like a freshly washed window. But the sunbathing topless with the innuendo about masturbation put me into overdrive.

  Not to mention this thing she was doing where she would kiss me like mad, then leave me. I didn’t think I’d ever gone this long without sex, and if it went on much longer, I would have tendonitis in my right wrist. I didn’t even have my drums for banging out my frustration. They were locked away in storage with the rest of my gear from the tour. A tour I had not completed. With a band I’d left at the height of its success.

  We stopped for tacos on the way home. It was no accident when I pulled into Casa Carlos, where we’d had our first date. My friend Andy was behind the bar, and his eyes widened when I walked in.

  “Hey, man, you okay? I heard you quit The Spades.”

  No shit. Everyone had heard. At least Shane’s fucked-up drama had been kept out of the headlines.

  “Long story. You remember Louana.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Sit anywhere you like.”

  Louana led us to the table we had shared for the first time almost a year prior and plopped down.

  “Oh, my God! You’re driving, right?” Her eyes lit up like Christmas.

  “Yeah …?”

  “I’m having margaritas!”

  The word was definitely plural.

  I ordered her drink and myself a beer and came back to the table. Her bopping around hadn’t ended at the mattress store. Maybe she had taken lessons from Gina on how to be giddy. What the hell had gotten into her?

  When Andy came over with the beverages and to take our order, she silently clapped her hands together in delight as she looked down at the frozen cocktail. She sipped it with a straw and closed her eyes in pleasure as she swallowed it down. Her expression reminded me of something else.

  “Soooo good. Want a taste?” Fuck yes, but not of her drink.

  “I’m good.” I winked back at her.

  While we ate, we spoke a bit about her challenging client and laughed as we relived a belly flop Archie had landed in the pool that morning as we ate.

  When I got back from washing my hands, she had her second drink in front of her.

  “Gina called me. Did you know they adopted Boom Boom?” I asked.

  “I knew they would end up together.” Louana’s gorgeous lips wrapped around the long straw, and she sucked up her sweet-and-sour adult drink.

  I tried to ignore the thought of her mouth someplace else. “She wanted to know if we could host a play date for the dogs …”

  “Jesus, how did we get to be the parents of a pit bull and an old lady?” She laughed, and I filled with joy.

  I knew it wasn’t a date, but it felt a hell of a lot like a date.

  “Holy crap. We are their parents.” I faked shock but secretly delighted in her acting like we were a couple.

  She had another sip of her margarita. I wondered how much she would drink. She rarely got drunk, and she was full-on buzzed as she approached the end of her glass. Her guard was going down with every drop—which, although a bit cheap on my part, suited me just fine. I decided to test the waters.

  “We’re a good team,” I said in a soft tone.

  “Yeah, but I’m always the bad guy. I wanna be the one who gives them steak one time. And you be the one who reminds them to clean their room.” Her bottom lip rolled into an exaggerated pout.

  “I’m tough,” I asserted. She wasn’t always around; last week, I had scolded Archie for pissing in the courtyard. And then I’d hosed it down before somebody saw.

  “Pffff!” She tipped her head back with a laugh.

  “What?”

  Seeing her giggle like this was awesome, even if it was at my expense.

  “When we first met, I had one rule. No red meat for Fern. She got you to break that in what, one week? You’re a total pushover. Which actually makes no sense because with me you’re just pushy.” She tilted her head and scrunched her nose.

  “I was pushy,” I corrected.

  She laughed again, which confirmed her buzz and put her right into Category Tipsy.

  Andy came over to give us the check. Had he just smiled and winked at my fucking girlfriend? When he asked again about The Spades, I quickly turned the conversation to him and where he was gigging. He was happy to tell me about the jazz band he was playing upright bass in, and I wondered if I might take Fern out to see them.

  My attention went back to the borderline drunken but still beautiful brunette in front of me. And even though I was enjoying her current state, I was mildly disappointed in it, because it ruled out getting past first base tonight. We left the restaurant and drove the short distance home.

  She didn’t exactly invite me in; she just kept babbling while she opened the door about some dessert recipe she couldn’t get to work and held it open, assuming I would follow her, which I did. With all kinds of pleasure.

  She continued the incessant chatter while she got us each a beer and came back to the couch.

  “Hey! Let’s play a game.” She stretched out her arm to hand me the drink. “Ooooo, let’s play Truth or Dare.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh as my mind flooded with some pretty brilliant and sexy dares. But trust. I needed her trust. “Baby, you may not have noticed, but you’re drunk. And I am trying really, really hard to be a good boy here.”

  She set her beer on the coffee table and climbed into my lap. I shouldn’t have said anything. Or maybe I should have repeated myself. It took her right to wicked-tease mode. I closed my eyes, and her lips pressed into my neck. Fuck.

  “I like it when you’re a bad boy.”

  My dick begged the blood in my brain to come over to his side. In the middle, my heart won.

  “Louana, I love you, and I am not going to have the first time we are back together be when your judgment is impaired.”

  She took my hands and placed one on each breast. Wicked, evil, glorious woman. God, I loved her.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Now you’re just being cruel.” I pulled my hands away and sat on them. I wasn’t entirely sure I trusted them not to go back for seconds. Touching her tits was heaven.

  “I have a confession.”

  She tugged at my wrists, and with my brain screaming “NO!” she moved my hands back to her chest but added a small coaxing movement to my thumbs, right over her nipples. I titled my head back and whimpered in her torture. Her wonderful, mean torture that I needed to stop. In just a minute ...

  “There was no alcohol in my second drink.”

  Confusion. My head straightened.

  “Why not?”

  “I wanted to see what you would do if I was drunk. I have my answer, and you passed. Now I want to celebrate your victory.”

  “How?” I didn’t care about her act or show. I had a prize to claim, and I was going to carry that motherfucker home like a kid who’d won fourteen goldfish at a carnival. My mouth skimmed hers, and she began a slow grind against me.

  She kissed me back, then quietly breathed in my ear. “Well, since you’re the winner, you choose. Either I come, or you do. But no sex.” Third base, we have liftoff.

  “What’s the weapon of choice? Mouth?” My lips brushed over hers again. “Or hand?” I squeezed her tits.

  She rubbed her crotch against mine, and her fingers led me to pinch her nipples.

  “Hands only.”

  If she had said mouth, it would have been a harder—pun intended—decision. Because her mouth on m
e was fucking insane. But I knew what I could do to her with my hands, and my dick silently moaned his objection to my choice.

  “You’ll be the one receiving,” I assured her.

  “Then my plan is working beautifully.” Her warm tongue twirled around my earlobe, and her hips pushed deeper into my groin.

  “So, I can do anything I want with my hands as long as your old—and, by the way, very-soon-to-be-reintroduced—friend doesn’t make an appearance?”

  “Yes.” She kissed my lips gently, just the way I liked it.

  “And how naked can I get you?” I needed structure. I didn’t want to cross any lines.

  “All the way naked for me and your pants stay on.”

  Damn, she had thought this through. She really wasn’t drunk.

  “Any other rules I need to know?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Kissing is mandatory.”

  I tore off my shirt. “Then shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

  With my mouth where it belonged and the promise of more contact, I was sure I’d won the lottery, and I wasn’t even going to get to come. Because that was what this woman could do to me. And I was going to make damn sure she knew how happy I was that we were taking one step closer to getting back to being us.

  My hands moved up her dress and around to her firm, delectable ass. In truth, the ass touching was more for me than for her, but she didn’t object. And for the record, I had been right about her underwear, which was about to come off along with her dress.

  I pulled away from her kiss.

  “Stand up.” Her lips tightened as she pushed against me and rose to her feet. “I think we’re all done with that dress for today.”