Naked Love

by Ann, Jewel

“Is that a smile?” Jake shrugs off his shirt as he comes out of the bathroom.

  I stare for a few seconds. His jeans are unfastened as well, just barely hanging onto his hips.

  “Ave?”

  “Huh?” I glance up.

  He grins. “Were you just smiling?”

  “Yeah. Sydney is … well, I can’t tell you. But I didn’t get this virus from her because what she has is not contagious.”

  He studies me with a narrowed gaze for a few seconds. “So she’s pregnant?”

  “I did not say that.”

  “Got it.” He winks.

  I refocus on his abs and a bit lower. It distracts me from my nausea.

  “I’m going to eat. Will that bother you?”

  My gaze snaps back up to meet his knowing eyes. He smirks.

  “No.”

  “I’m going to get you some coconut water. I want you to drink it before you go to sleep.”

  He’s my Lautner. Why does this bring tears to my eyes? Because he’s leaving on Saturday. Because Mo will be with him next week. Because … I love him. “Okay,” I whisper around the swell of emotion in my throat as I roll to my side again, putting my back to him.

  A few seconds later, there’s a pounding noise. I glance over my shoulder. He’s pounding a hole into a young coconut. He’s giving me coconut water from an actual coconut.

  He might be better than Lautner.

  “Thank you.” I dab the corners of my eyes and ease to sitting. “Glass straw. Fancy.”

  He hands me the coconut.

  “Only the best for you.” He smiles.

  I frown. “I brought you coconut water in a can when you were … not well.”

  “When you poisoned me.” He lifts an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, when that happened.” My lips wrap around the glass straw. “Go eat,” I mumble.

  He leans forward, kissing me on the forehead. “Get some rest. Feel better.”

  I fall asleep. By the time I wake up, Jake’s asleep on the sofa. The dim lighting under the kitchen cabinets gives me just enough light to make it to the bathroom where I vomit the coconut water.

  As I reach to flush the toilet, a cold damp cloth gets pressed to my forehead.

  “I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well,” Jake whispers in my ear, sliding his other hand around my waist to help me stand.

  Closing my eyes, I rest the back of my head against his shoulder.

  “Water?” He holds out a glass of water.

  I lift my head and take a drink, swishing and spitting in the sink. I should brush my teeth again, but I’m just too tired. It must be the middle of the night.

  When Jake scoops me up in his arms, I don’t protest.

  When he lays me on the bed next to him, I murmur a thank you.

  When he molds his body to the back of mine, his face in my hair, his arms around my waist, I hold my breath and cry silently. I want this Jake.

  Every.

  Single.

  Day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I wake up alone.

  Then I see the sprig of lavender on the pillow next to mine and a short note.

  Three simple words: You are beautiful.

  Below the pillow is a small bowl of granola and berries with what I assume are edible flowers garnishing the top. I scoot myself up to sitting, glancing around the room. No Jake.

  Taking a slow breath, I check in on my body. I feel better. No nausea. Dr. Matthews cured me. Take that, Dr. Lautner Sullivan.

  I eat the granola and fruit, passing on the flowers. They are too pretty to eat. And what if they’re not edible? What if they’re payback for the mushroom incident? Pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I rinse off in the shower, brush my teeth, and put back on my blouse and capris. It’s not the first time I’ve worn dirty clothes.

  His truck and motorcycle are out back, so Jake must be down at the cafe. I make my way down the stairs, my heels clicking on each wooden step.

  “Good morning.” Seth smiles, rushing past me with plates full of food. “Jake’s out front,” he calls just before pushing through the swinging door.

  I follow him. A giggly girl bats her eyelashes at Jake as he shows her how to use the juicer. Must be the girl who got my job. She has long, blond hair. Long like mine used to be, only I think hers is all her own. And she’s definitely younger than me.

  Her smile loses a touch of momentum when she spies me.

  Jake turns. “Morning, Ave.” His smile beats hers by miles. “Feeling better? You look better.”

  I nod, trying to ignore the girl who got my job and the way she’s eye-fucking Jake. My memory jumps back to him without his shirt, coming out of the bathroom, and that glorious V cut below his abs, and those faded unfastened jeans.

  “Coffee?” Jake asks, wiping his hands.

  “Juice?” I have this sadistic need to watch him show new girl how to run the juicer. Who knew my jealous side had such an appetite?

  “Ginger, apple, lemon, cucumber,” he fires off to new girl while taking the order of the next person in line.

  A minute later, new girl hands me my juice, giving me the once-over and a catty smile. He should fire her. She’s bad Karma. I can feel it.

  “Jake’s girlfriend?” she asks.

  I take the juice. “Uh …”

  “Avery. Aspen. Aspen. Avery,” Jake introduces us just before disappearing to the kitchen. Was that his way of avoiding Aspen’s question? Preventing me from answering her?

  “If not…” she leans in and whispers “…I call dibs.”

  Dibs? Did she really just call dibs on Jake?

  Aspen, Mo … stiff competition.

  Before I sharpen my claws on her perfect skin, I turn and retreat to the kitchen.

  Seth gives me a friendly nod as he and Jake assemble plates and bowls of food.

  “Juice okay?” Jake asks as he perfectly garnishes a plate of some kind of hash and gravy with mushrooms.

  I nod, sidling up to him. Lifting onto my toes, I press my lips against his ear. “Three words … I need you.”

  His hands still as he pulls away from me just enough to see my face. If he can’t read my come-hither expression, then he needs a thick pair of glasses. “Ave, I’m in the middle of the breakfast rush.”

  Seth takes the plate from Jake and runs it out front.

  Rejection sucks. Would he reject Mo … or perky little Aspen?

  And the only thing that sucks worse than rejection is jealousy.

  “K.” I smile like it’s no big deal. Like I’m not embarrassed for suggesting it. Then I pivot and make my way up the stairs to get my purse and get the hell out of here before I say or do anything else that’s impulsive and stupid.

  As I grab my purse, the door slams behind me. I turn. Before I can take a single breath, Jake’s hands frame my face and his mouth crashes against mine.

  It’s all consuming.

  It burns through my skin as we stumble to the bed, clawing and tearing at each other’s clothes.

  I moan as his tongue circles my nipple. My impatient hands tug down his jeans and boxer briefs. He attacks my mouth again, easing us to the bed.

  It’s slow and methodic, yet every stroke is deliberate and perfectly timed. Guiding my knees to my chest, he pushes into me.

  Thoughts vanish.

  Toes curl.

  My torso twists and jerks.

  There. He’s the best at finding my “there.”

  He’s the best at bending me to his will.

  He’s the best at prolonging this feeling—finding the edge and keeping me there.

  It’s torture. God … I love his kind of torture.

  “I love you, Ave,” he whispers in my ear as he pulls my hair gently, reentering me from behind while my body trembles on all fours.

  Within seconds, I’m there. Mystical, magical there. I’ve fallen off the edge. I’ve arrived. Collapsing onto the bed, my face buried into the pillow, Jake grips my hips and slams into me three more times, my name
a guttural moan from his lips.

  His sweaty body falls onto mine, his chest to my back, his labored breaths warm against my ear.

  “Sorry for disrupting your breakfast rush,” I mumble into the pillow while turning my head to the side. My lungs can’t find oxygen with his dead weight blanketing me.

  “No, you’re not.” He rolls off me and smacks my ass.

  I giggle as he pulls me to his chest, our legs scissoring together. “I’m really not. Thank you for the note and the lavender.” Tipping my chin up, I smile at him. My fingers trace the lines of his chest and the ink that covers it.

  He stares at me with a serious look for several moments before submitting to a tiny smile. “Was this your idea of going slow? Felt fast to me. We could try it again … only slower.”

  This pang in my heart keeps me from fully appreciating his humor. What are we doing? Really … we couldn’t be more opposite. “Do you think what we have is what two people on a stranded island feel? Do you think we ended up in bed together for a lack of a better choice? And now that we’ve rejoined reality, do you think regret will set in?”

  “I’m no longer your first choice?” He messes with a few strands of my hair, focusing on them instead of holding my gaze.

  “I’m not talking about me. I just said ‘we’ so you wouldn’t feel like I was specifically talking about you. But now that you’re questioning me, I’ll admit … I’m talking about you.”

  “You don’t think you’re my first choice?” His eyes meet my gaze again.

  “I think you know I’m not as bad at sex as what you originally assumed.”

  We grin.

  “But I also think Deedy marrying my dad connects us, and maybe that connection feels hard for you to break. What if your loyalty to Deedy is what’s really keeping you tied to me?”

  His lips twist as he scratches his head, tugging a bit at his messy, blond hair. “That would be tragic.”

  “You’re making fun. Not nice.” I push away.

  He grabs my waist just as my feet touch the floor at the side of the bed. “It was a road trip.” He kisses my neck. “The truck didn’t break down. We weren’t stranded. We weren’t even away from what I assume you’re referring to as ‘reality’ for very long. I wasn’t sex starved and desperate. You weren’t an impulse. What I feel for you right now—with a world of other choices—is real. I want you.”

  My next breath holds back the tears. I want to be strong—not for Jake. I want to be strong for me. “I like to shop. And I like impractical shoes and manicured hands and feet.”

  “I know.” He chuckles, kissing my neck again.

  “And I have a past. A past dotted with moments and decisions I’m not proud of. But … it’s made me the person I am right now. So if you want me, then you have to—”

  “Love you as a whole. Not the parts I find most attractive. I have to love you—all of you.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “I think you going back to Milwaukee is good timing. I need to get a better job and a place of my own to live. You need to spend time with your friends. Maybe when you have Mo at your place and I’m halfway across the country, you’ll have a better perspective of your feelings for me.”

  His grip around my waist stiffens. His whole body pressed to my back goes rigid.

  I twist around to look at him. Jake releases me and sits back against the wood headboard, covering his midsection with a pillow.

  “What?” I pull the sheet to my chest … since we’re apparently covering up now. “Why do you have that look—that constipated look?”

  “About Mo …”

  I tighten my grip on the sheet held to my chest, feeling extra vulnerable.

  “I may have fictionalized her a bit … to gauge where we stood. I wanted to know if you’d be jealous … if you still cared. If you still wanted us.”

  My eyes widen, lips part. “Wh-what? You made her up?” My head jerks back.

  He tips his head up, tightening the cords in his neck as he scratches his chin. “Mo is Jace’s dog. Golden Retriever. She’s beautiful. And I took her camping with me two years ago while Jace scouted a fighter.”

  My shock transforms into a full scowl. “You. Ass!” I toss the sheet aside and collect my clothes from the floor like I’m mad at them more than him.

  No. I love my clothes … Yep, I love them more than the liar in the bed. If I didn’t love these black Jimmy Choo’s so much, I’d jab the heel into Jake’s eye.

  “Ave …” He grabs his jeans at a much slower pace.

  Before he gets them fastened, I have my bag on my shoulder, frantically fishing my keys out of it. “Bye, Jake. Don’t get eaten by a bear on your trip home … or do.”

  “Avery …” He chases me down the backstairs to my loaner car.

  “I don’t like liars. One minute you’re declaring your love and the next minute you’re eating chocolate mousse from the pussy of another woman.”

  He grabs my door before I can shut it. “Stop.” He leans into my car, no shirt, no shoes, jeans still unfastened. “I lied because I wanted you. I just needed to know if we stood a chance. I didn’t lie because I am cheating on you.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I try to pull the door shut, in spite of his body blocking it.

  He laughs. LAUGHS!

  “Fine, Ave. I love this stubborn side of you too. I’m leaving Saturday. I will be back. In the meantime, get a better job … or don’t. Find another place to live … or don’t. I don’t care. I’ll want you, love you, and need you no matter what. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to get that.”

  “Move. Now.” I start the car.

  “Fasten in, baby.” He stretches the seat belt across my body and locks it.

  I grit my teeth and stare straight ahead, hands death-gripping the steering wheel.

  Why?

  Why?

  Why does he have to be terrible and amazing all the time at the same time?

  “If you forgive me before Saturday, call me. If you don’t, I’ll call you from my first stop.”

  I won’t answer your call.

  “Drive safely. I love you.” He kisses me.

  I don’t pull away, but I don’t move my lips.

  You’re a jerk. And I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

  Jake claimed every beating cell of my heart in under a month. But for now … I need to be pissed off at him. Also, I’m not feeling so awesome at the moment.

  He shuts the door and waits for me to back out before he retreats up the stairs.

  * * *

  “Hey.” Sydney smiles, slathering sunscreen on the kids in the kitchen.

  I swallow the rising bile and run to the bathroom. So much for the juice Aspen pressed for me. I flush the toilet, rinse my mouth, and splash cold water on my face. Lucky Jake; he’s going to be sick. We swapped all the germs this morning. I feel marginally bad about his impending illness.

  “That bad?” Sydney asks from the doorway.

  I shake my head, drying my face with a hand towel. “I was better. Felt fine this morning. Then boom … the second I left Jake’s, I started feeling nauseous again.”

  “Jake’s?”

  I cringe.

  “That’s the friend you were visiting? You spent the night there?”

  “I went to make amends of sorts. You know … since he’s close to Deedy, and now Deedy is family, so …”

  Sydney smirks. “For Deedy, huh? How mature of you.”

  “Move.” I brush past her to get to my bed before I pass out or vomit again. “Don’t give me that stupid smirk.”

  “Have you told him?”

  Collapsing onto the bed, I curl into a ball. “Told who what?”

  “Told Jake that you’re pregnant.”

  I squint. “I thought we discussed this last night. What you have is not contagious. Which … I’m so happy for you. And as soon as I don’t want to die, I’ll give you a big hug. But you don’t want to get sick, so let’s keep our distance for now.”

&nb
sp; She sits on the edge of the bed.

  “I said to keep your distance.” I cover my mouth to hide my germs.

  A smile slides up her face. “I’m already pregnant. You can’t infect me with your pregnancy.”

  “Sydney … you know that’s not it.” I frown. Anthony thought I was going to marry him someday and have children with him. I wanted him to believe it. Hell, I wanted to believe it, but I’ve always known my children would be the kind you adopt.

  “You were told there’s a slim chance of getting pregnant. That’s not zero percent.”

  “I’m on the pill anyway.”

  “You take it when you’re supposed to take it? Never missing? Not one single time? Did you use condoms?”

  I try to roll my eyes, but I’m too weak, too nauseous. Condoms? No. We didn’t have condoms. We were so fucking irresponsible, I can’t even come up with a good reason. It just didn’t feel real. The whole trip was just … not real.

  It’s feeling mighty real right now.

  “Because I kinda sorta took my pills, and as a result, I have two kids and a third one on the way.”

  “You don’t have endometriosis,” I grumble.

  “When was your last period?”

  “I’m irregular, so that doesn’t mean anything.” I close my eyes like our conversation is over, but really I’m thinking.

  Thinking hard.

  The more I think, the more nauseous I feel. It was … before the chocolate incident. I think. No after. Gah! I don’t remember. They only last a few days. I was a mess. I’m still a mess. But it’s been after Anthony.

  “Do we know who the daddy is?”

  “What?” I open my eyes again.

  “Is it Jake or Anthony?”

  I shake my head, rubbing my temples. “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” She stands. “Be right back.” Sydney leaves the room, yells down to Ocean to turn on a movie until she’s done helping Aunt Avery with her tummy.

  I’m not pregnant. No. It’s a virus. Or cancer. Or some awful parasite I picked up from bathing in unclean water.

  Not. Pregnant.

  “Come tinkle on this.” Sydney holds up a pregnancy test. “I have two left. They’re both yours.”

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Then the test should be negative.”