by Beth Orsoff
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m on the brink, Jake. Seriously on the brink.”
“The brink of…?”
Jesus Christ, was this not obvious? “An orgasm, you idiot!”
He shot me a huge grin. “That’s kind of the point, Samantha.”
“Yeah, well, I thought you might like to, um, participate.”
His grin widened. He might’ve been laughing at me. Then he squeezed his lips together and tried to look serious. “I thought I was participating.”
“Participate the other way.” I was not going to say it. He knew exactly what I meant.
He sat back on his heels and grinned. Yeah, he was definitely laughing at me.
“The other way. Hmmm. You mean like this?”
And before I knew what he was up to, he’d pulled off my panties and tossed them across the room. Then he began stroking me with his fingers. I let out an involuntary moan.
“No, not like that.” In my head I was yelling at him, but when the words came out, they sounded more like a hoarse whisper.
Then he put his mouth where his fingers had been and did amazing things with his tongue. In no time I was on the brink again, until he suddenly stopped and looked up. “Was this what you meant?”
If I hadn’t been literally aching for him, I would’ve thrown his ass out for being such a prick. Instead I pushed up on my elbows. “I’ll give you a hint. It involves you taking off your pants.”
He jumped to his feet and tore off his jeans, but his underwear remained. Black boxer briefs. I wanted to lick them off of him. He opened his arms wide, showing off his toned, sun-kissed physique. “You mean like this?”
“You need to lose the underwear too.”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“But I thought you wanted to…you know.”
That grin again…oh yeah, he was definitely laughing at me.
“Fuck you six ways to Sunday?”
“Yes!” Finally!
He dropped back down to his knees. “Relax, Samantha. We have all night.”
I lay back and closed my eyes, waiting for my body to explode.
And it did.
Over and over again.
Chapter 84
Jake
She was worth the wait. He couldn’t get enough of her. And he was amazed by her stamina. There were times she wanted to go again and he needed to take a break. That never happened to him.
And these crazy emotions had never happened to him before either. He was just drifting off to sleep when he was jolted awake by his own thoughts: I could spend the rest of my life with this woman.
“You okay?” she mumbled.
“Never better,” he said and kissed the top of her head, which was nuzzled into his chest. Her rhythmic breathing quickly resumed, but he wasn’t so lucky.
“You look happy,” Caroline said as he strode into the office Monday morning, Starbucks in hand. It was his second coffee of the day. The first had been at Samantha’s house. He’d raced from her place to his this morning so he could shower and change before work.
He’d never intended to spend a second night. He’d planned on returning to his own apartment Sunday morning. He’d had emails to answer, a game to watch, laundry to do. But morning had turned into afternoon and then evening. And when she’d asked him to spend the night again, he hadn’t wanted to leave. That was a first too.
“Do I?” he said, avoiding eye contact lest he give himself away.
“Very,” she said and followed him into his office.
He busied himself scanning emails on his phone, but she didn’t leave. “Something you need?” he finally asked without looking up.
“Yes, is there a reason you won’t look at me?”
“No reason.” He kept his face neutral as they stared into each other’s eyes.
Then she broke into a huge grin. “I knew it!”
He held on to his poker face. “Caroline, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you cad!”
“Cad?” He’d been called many things by women in various states of agitation with him, but “cad” was a new one. “Are you reading romance novels again?”
“She’s a nice girl, Jake. I just hope you’re not going to break her heart too.”
“Too? Whose heart have I broken?”
“Don’t be coy. You know all my friends are in love with you.”
This was news to him. She’d introduced him to some of her girlfriends, but he’d never dated any of them, or even hit on them. He’d considered it—one in particular was a total knockout—but he’d decided not to go down that road. He needed Caroline to have his back. If it came down to him or her friends, he didn’t know where her loyalties would lie. “I’ve never even gone on a date with any of your friends.”
“What has that got to do with it?” She sighed dramatically. “They’ll all be heartbroken when I tell them.”
He laughed at her theatrics. “Tell them what? I whistled on my way to work?”
“You whistled?” She clutched her chest and collapsed onto one of his guest chairs. “Maybe it’s your heart I should be worried about instead of Samantha Haller’s.”
They both laughed, then he kicked her out of his office and reached for his phone.
Hi, he texted.
Hi yourself, Samantha texted back.
Miss you. He hit send before he could change his mind. He did miss her, even if he had just seen her two hours ago. And not just her body but all of her. He missed her smile and her laugh too.
Miss you too. Want to come over tonight?
Tonight’s a long way off. How about lunch? He could meet her at a hotel for an afternoon tryst, Mad Men style.
Lunching with a judge. I’ve rescheduled twice. I can’t cancel on her a third time. Dinner at my place?
Sure. What can I bring?
Just your luscious body. And maybe a nice bottle of wine.
Chapter 85
Samantha
“You’re in love,” Jenna said.
“I’m not in love,” I replied as I wheeled my grocery cart up to the seafood counter.
“When’s the last time you left the office before six? Hell, when’s the last time you cooked dinner? And I don’t mean one of those meals in a bag.”
If we weren’t counting meals in a bag or a box or a takeout container, then it had been a while. But that was because I usually ate dinner alone. Cooking for one wasn’t worth the effort. “I’m only making scallops. They’re easy.”
“Uh huh.”
I ordered three-quarters of a pound, then turned my attention back to my phone. “We had a great weekend, that’s all. Don’t jinx this for me.”
“How am I jinxing it?”
“I had five orgasms in one night, Jenna! Things like that don’t happen to me.”
The guy behind the seafood counter stopped scooping scallops and stared open-mouthed, while the woman to my right said, “Honey, if you ever get tired of him, you can give him my number.”
I gave them both an embarrassed smile and turned away. Then I lowered my voice. “This isn’t love, it’s lust.”
“It’s the same thing, at least at the beginning. Why do you think Michael proposed to Whitney after knowing her for a whole ten days? Shared values?” We both laughed at that notion. “He thought he was going to get laid by a beautiful woman every night for the rest of his life. And after she finished getting his rocks off, she’d cook him dinner too.”
We laughed again, but I made a mental note: No sex with Jake until after dinner. I didn’t want to give him unrealistic expectations.
She continued. “It’s not just Michael. All men think that way.”
“Not Jake. He’s not the marrying kind, remember?” I hadn’t forgotten.
“Yeah, yeah. They all say that until they meet The One.”
I mouthed “thank you” to the counterman, who winked at me as he handed me my sea sca
llops (that had never happened to me before either!), and avoided eye contact with the woman who wanted me to send Jake her way when I was finished with him (as if!), then I wheeled off in the direction of the pasta aisle.
“And he knows I’m not the marrying kind either,” I said when I was alone again.
“Ditto for you.”
I stared at the fifteen brands of pasta on the shelf and randomly reached for a box of linguine with an Italian-sounding name. “Why are you so sure this isn’t just sex?” I said, making sure to keep my voice low. I wasn’t the only person in the pasta aisle. “You have relationships like this all the time.”
“First, if it’s just sex, it’s not a relationship. Second, I’ve known you for your entire adult life. And third, because I’ve never cooked dinner for any of my boy toys, and I actually like to cook!”
True, true, and true. Jenna was right; I was head over heels for Jake. The thought terrified me, mainly because I knew it was only a matter of time before he broke my heart. Guys like Jake didn’t end up with girls like me. That was a fact.
Chapter 86
Jake
He could hear raised voices coming from inside his apartment even before he unlocked the front door.
“The guy had his hands all over you, Whitney. What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re supposed to think, ‘I have a beautiful wife and I’m a lucky guy because I’m the only man in the world who gets to sleep with her.’”
“Am I?” he asked.
“How dare you!”
That’s when he heard the crash. A vase? A glass? A window? He walked in and discovered the remains of a beer bottle splattered across the kitchen floor. Whitney and Michael both froze. He hadn’t seen the crime, but he’d bet money that Whitney was the perpetrator.
“It’s you,” she practically sneered at him.
“Yes, Whitney, I live here, remember?”
“I thought you were living with my sister these days.”
Obviously they’d spoken, and obviously she still didn’t approve.
“Don’t worry,” Michael said, “I’ll clean up.”
“I wasn’t worried,” Jake replied and left them to deal with the mess. He didn’t intend to stick around and listen to their brawl. He’d only come home for a quick shower and to grab clean clothes so he could head to the office tomorrow morning directly from Samantha’s house. He assumed he’d be spending the night with her again. He had no reason to think otherwise.
After he showered, changed, and repacked his overnight bag, he returned to the kitchen to snatch a bottle of Pinot from his wine fridge before heading out. He found Michael on his hands and knees picking up shards of glass. Whitney was nowhere to be seen.
“Sorry about that,” Michael said, looking up at Jake.
He shrugged. “It happens. And don’t worry about the floor. The cleaning woman will be here in the morning.” Caroline had reminded him before he’d left the office, and he slid an envelope with her name on it next to the coffeemaker.
Michael sat back on his haunches. “The way my luck is running these days, I’ll end up stepping on a piece of glass and losing a limb.”
Jake grabbed the bottle of wine, intending to head for the door when he glanced down at Michael again. He’d never seen anyone look more pathetic, and in more dire need of a friend. He turned away from him, then stopped and turned back. “If you ever want to talk…”
“I think I made a huge mistake.”
Shit. He didn’t mean now. But he couldn’t just leave. “Whitney?”
Michael nodded and stood up, then glanced at the overnight bag slung over Jake’s shoulder. “I don’t want to hold you up.”
Jake peeked at his watch. Samantha wasn’t expecting him until eight, so he had a few minutes. He tossed his bag into the hallway and navigated the still-sticky floor so he could grab two bottles of beer from the fridge. He popped the tops on both of them and handed one to Michael. “You look like you could use a drink.”
Chapter 87
Samantha
I was stirring the pot of boiling linguini when the phone pinged. I reached for it thinking it was another text from Jake—he’d been sending me flirty messages all day—but it was from Whitney: Where are you?
I sighed. I was floating on cloud Jake; the last thing I wanted was her dragging me back down to earth. Whatever she wanted could wait until morning. I set the phone down and went back to stirring.
The phone pinged again: I need to talk to you.
I continued stirring.
Then it pinged a third time: It’s IMPORTANT.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I muttered, but this time I replied: Can’t this wait? Jake will be here any minute.
Then the phone rang. “You’re blowing me off in my hour of need for a man? Especially that man?”
I shook my head. Classic Whitney. “Obviously I’m not blowing you off. I answered your call, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, after I texted you three times. Where are you?”
“Home. Cooking dinner.”
“You’re cooking for him? Jenna was right. This is serious.”
“When did you talk to Jenna?” And why was my best friend talking about me behind my back to my sister?
“Forget Jenna. It’s Michael we need to talk about.”
Of course it was. What could possibly be more important than my sister’s love life? “Is he still mad at you about Saturday?” After working a twenty-hour shift, he’d returned home to what he’d thought was going to be an intimate evening with his wife in their new home (at least for the next three months), but which had turned out to be a raucous house party. Whitney was the only one who was surprised that he was upset.
“Yes, can I come over?”
“No. I told you, Jake’s on his way. I’d like to spend the evening alone with him, if you don’t mind.”
“You just spent an entire weekend alone with him.”
“So?” Usually I gave in to her, but not tonight. I deserved some happiness too, or at least another night of good sex. “Whit, Michael’s pissed at you. He’ll get over it, just like he always does.” Just like we all always do.
“Not this time,” she said, her voice cracking. “This time he’s not going to forgive me.”
Shit, this sounded serious. And if he really wasn’t forgiving her, then this couldn’t just be about the party. “What are you not telling me?”
“I’m coming over,” she said, gulping air between words, so I knew she was in tears. “I’ll explain everything when I get there.”
“Whit, no!” But she’d already disconnected. I quickly dialed Jake’s number. “Don’t be mad, but I need to push back our dinner. Can you come at nine instead?”
“Let me guess,” he said, “Whitney.”
“Yeah, how did you know?” Although Whitney was always a good guess.
“Michael and I were just discussing her.”
“Michael’s at your place?”
“It’s his place too, remember?”
“I thought he moved in with Whitney?” That was the whole plan behind getting her to house-sit, so she and Michael could live together and Jake and I could live alone.
“Apparently he moved back last night. Or maybe it was Saturday night.”
“Sunday morning,” Michael called out. “Goddamnit!” Then he started laughing hysterically.
“Is he drunk?” I asked.
“Possibly,” Jake said. “He just stepped on a piece of glass.”
“And that’s funny?”
“Only to him. Shit, he’s spurting blood. I should probably go do something. Can I call you back?”
“Sure.”
At the time, I assumed he would.
Chapter 88
Jake
He handed Michael a bandage and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and let Michael take care of the rest. He was the doctor, after all.
“Do you have any scotch?” Michael asked when he’d finished dressing his wound.
&nb
sp; “I assume not for your foot,” Jake said and opened the cabinet where he kept the hard alcohol. He pulled out a nearly full bottle of Johnny Walker Black and handed it to him.
Michael hobbled to the sink and grabbed two glasses.
“I’m good,” Jake said. He was hoping this pity party would be wrapping up soon. All he could think about was Samantha. She was waiting for him, hopefully in something sexy or, better yet, in nothing at all.
Michael raised his bandaged foot. “C’mon, you’re not going to make a wounded man drink alone, are you?”
Jake stared at this man-child with his unshaven face, mismatched clothes, and bandaged foot, then sighed. “Okay, one drink. Then I’m outta here.”
An hour later they were both sprawled on the couch with their feet up on the coffee table, and the level of scotch in the bottle was much lower. Michael poured himself another drink and downed it in one gulp.
“Slow down, buddy. What if the hospital calls?” Michael’s talking to a patient in this condition would probably be malpractice.
“They won’t,” Michael replied. “I’m not on call tonight. My next shift’s not until morning, so I can sleep it off.”
At the rate he was drinking, Jake didn’t know if one night would be enough, but he was the guy’s roommate, not his mother.
“I still can’t believe my marriage only lasted six weeks,” Michael said for the umpteenth time. “Less, really. If we’re being honest here, it ended on the honeymoon.”
Jake glanced at his watch. Even if he walked out now, he still wouldn’t be able to make it to Samantha’s house by nine. “Are you absolutely sure it’s over?” Jake said for the umpteenth time too. “Maybe it’s not too late to work it out.”
Michael shook his head. “She doesn’t love me. She never did.”