by Maren Lee
“Sure, baby. If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. For now.” He had a devious look in his eyes and extended his hand out to her to shake. “Friends.”
Lane wasn’t sure how this would all work out but she shook on it anyway.
“Friends,” she responded in agreement.
“All right. For our first night as friends,” Jake emphasized the word, “let’s kick back and watch some Longmire on Netflix.”
“So you’re not going home?” Lane looked at him quizzically.
“No,” he scoffed. “Friends hang out, Laney.”
“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me Laney? Or baby? Or honey for that matter? These are not friend things with me,” she stated, exasperated. “Friends do not call me that.”
“Why don’t you like being called Laney, baby, sweet honey?” he asked, with a bit of concern in his voice.
Lane wasn’t about to have that conversation. “Ugh! You’re impossible. Watch whatever you want. I’ve got work to do, so keep the volume down, okay?”
“Sure thing, friend.” He smiled at her with those gorgeous lips, his sweet dimple caving in. That smile literally drops panties. Fuck. Lane knew she was in for it.
➰
After the third episode of Longmire, Jake looked over to see Lane sitting up on the couch, legs crossed, laptop on her lap, with her head dropped back. Quietly snoring. God damn it, she’s adorable.
He set the remote on the table, closed her laptop and moved it to the coffee table, and scooped her up into his arms. Her head fell onto his shoulder as he carried her upstairs and down the hallway. He kicked the doors open one by one until he found her bedroom. What gave it away were all the blouses and high heels slung all over the floor. Jesus.
Her room was a disaster. He assumed with how put together she always seemed in the courtroom and with how clean her living room and kitchen were, that she might be an uptight neat freak. He was off. Way. Off.
He laid her on the unmade side of the bed and covered her with the comforter. He looked for a top sheet first, but he couldn’t find one. It had probably been kicked so far down to the end of the bed he’d never be able to find it anyway; if this sexy slob even made her bed with a top sheet. She is a baffling creature. Jake chuckled under his breath.
Jake kissed her on the top of the head, “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He turned to walk away when he heard Lane’s sleepy muffled voice. “No. Don’t go. Snuggle me.”
Jake quietly whispered, “Honey, I should go.”
“No,” she whined. “Please stay,” she breathed out.
“You sure?” Jake wanted -- no, needed -- confirmation. Lane stuck her hand out of the covers, reaching for him. Almost desperately.
He wasn’t going to make her ask him again.
Jake stripped his clothes off, tossed all of the crap off the other side of the bed, and slid under the covers with her.
He laid down next to her, close enough that he could drape one arm over her and smell the sweet citrus scent from her shampoo, but far enough away that if he at some point during the night popped a boner, he wouldn’t be jamming it into her backside.
Fuck.
The thought of jamming it into her backside made his dick rise.
Calm down, buddy. There’s no action for you tonight.
Jake was restless with his thoughts. This woman. This beautiful, feisty, woman was going to be his. He didn’t know why she wanted to fight it. But he also couldn’t quite figure out why she would tell him to slow things down one minute and then invite him to spend the night with her. Crazy woman.
He tossed and turned for the next hour fighting his erection and the urge to pull Lane closer to him until he finally dozed off.
Chapter 5
Lane woke up with her cheek nestled into Jake's shoulder. Mmmmm. He’s so sexy. She rubbed her cheek against him and moved her hand up his chest, sprinkled with the perfect amount of manly chest hair, and toward his sexy five o'clock shadow. He smells so good. Her eyes went big when it hit her. What the fuck happened last night?!
She sat up and the comforter fell to her waist. Thank God, she was still in her clothes. Lane put her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. This has to be a dream.
She looked to her right again. Nope. Jake was in bed with her. Shirtless. His right arm was tucked behind his head under the pillow. His left was still stretched out onto her side of the bed.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
The last thing she remembered was staring at the brief she was working on and the dull light of her laptop. How was she in bed with a shirtless, possibly even bottomless -- don’t go there right now, Lane -- man? How could she not remember how it came to this point?
She flipped the comforter off of her legs and slid out of bed. Pissed.
Jake needed to get the fuck out of her bed. God damn it! What didn’t he understand about being ‘friends’? She made her way through the maze of clothing and shoes on her floor and into her bathroom. She filled the cup next to her sink with cold water. This should do it.
Walking back to the side of the bed that Jake was sprawled out on, she quietly whispered, “Time to wake up.” Her mouth curled to a devilish grin. Oh, this was going to be fun. He looked so peaceful.
She paused for just a second to admire him. Fuck, his chest was beautiful. His arms. Yummy. She was curious about what he decided to crawl into bed wearing, though. Did he have underwear on? Lane grabbed the corner of the covers and lifted slightly to get a quick look. Nope, no britches for this bad boy.
Oh my god.
His.
Cock.
Was.
Hard.
Lane felt her entire body flush at the thought of him inside her again. Fuck. No! Just friends!
She put the covers back down, covering his giant erection, and held the cup of water over his head.
And then she poured it on his face.
She snickered.
Jake flailed his arms as he sat up and started yelling, “Fuck! Jesus Christ! What the fuck, Red?!”
“Don't you ‘what the fuck’ me! How dare you sleep in my bed! Too far, Hamilton! Too far!” She poked him in the chest.
Jake sat up, “Oh no no. You asked me to sleep in your bed, baby,” he snapped back. What the fuck, woman?!
“Don’t call me baby. Friends don't call each other baby!” she shouted.
“Friends don't demand friends cuddle with them and spend the night, but you sure did!” Jake rolled his eyes at her.
“I would never!” Lane put her hands on her hips.
Jake puffed up, “The fuck you wouldn't! You asked me, Laney. Begged me, in fact.” He jumped up out of bed and turned to face her. Lane squealed.
“No, no, no! Don't you point that thing at me!” she gestured to his cock. It was at full mast this morning. Whoops. “Why are you naked?!” Lane shouted.
“Because I don't like sleeping in pants!” he shouted back at her at the same decibel.
“Where’s your underwear, then?” she asked.
Honest questions deserve honest answers, Jake thought. “I don't wear them.” He smiled.
“Like ever? That's gross, Jake. Don't your pants smell like balls?” Lane wrinkled her nose at the thought.
“I smell like a man, dammit! And axe body spray!” Jake was practically howling right now trying to show off his masculinity.
“So you’re saying you smell like balls,” Lane retorted.
“You are quite the piece of work, Red.” Jake shook his head.
“What the hell does that mean?” she glared at him. If looks could kill...
“Oh, I don't know, let's see. One: You've got the sharpest god damn claws in the county and you seem to enjoy using them on me despite how nice I've been to you.”
“Nice is a very recent development, Jake. You've been a total asshole to me,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“I already explained that to you. And I’ve apologized. So you don’t get to hold that over my
head anymore.”
“Ok, so what else, then? Let’s put it all out there,” she challenged him.
“Exhibit B: you're messy as fuck!” He gestured wildly around the room, his cock still waving about. Still hard. “Have you ever heard of a laundry hamper? That's where you're supposed to put all of this shit instead of on the floor! I swear to God I'm on the fence about calling the show Hoarders right now.” He waved his phone at her.
“Get out! I am not a hoarder! And I know what a hamper is. I'm just busy! Now get your pants on, put your dick away, and get the fuck out of my bedroom!” she shouted as she pointed to the door.
“Oh, I'm going. Enjoy your pig sty all by yourself, friend.” Jake pulled his pants on, threw his shirt over his shoulder, and headed for the door. As he was just about out, he turned back and looked at her. “How do you like your eggs?”
“I don't have any eggs. Go home, Jake!”
“So not fertilized, then?” He raised his eyebrow just in time to watch Lane launch her pillow.
“Okay, okay. I'm out.” He put his hands up and retreated out of the room.
Despite her frustration with him, Lane couldn't help but laugh. She knew she was a slob when it came to her bedroom. Nobody had been in her room since Connor, and even then, he didn’t come over that often on account of ranching duties. When he did come over, though, she’d at least had warning enough to shove all of her mess in the closet first.
This new ‘friend’ of hers was going to be a pain in the ass.
Lane sighed heavily. She wasn’t used to so much yelling in the morning. She needed a shower and an IV of French roast coffee. Stat.
➰
Jake pulled the skillet out of the dishwasher from last night and set it on the stove. His mind was reeling with scenarios as to how he'd like to adjust Lane’s attitude this morning.
A good spanking.
A hard shower fucking.
A sweet pussy licking.
Lane was wound too damn tight.
Tight. His mind drifted off to their one night together.
She’d looked so vulnerable sitting at the bar all alone. She’d always seemed like an invincible bitch. So independent. Nothing phased her. She could take care of herself. Until Justin and Chloe’s wedding weekend. He’d never seen that side of her until then.
God, she was so beautiful. He’d always been attracted to her. Ever since the first night they met. The thought that she might need someone made him ache. Made him want to be that someone. The one to take care of her.
He still couldn’t believe that Connor -- or any man for that matter -- would step out on Lane. If Jake had his hands on someone like her, he would do everything in his power to not fuck it up. Even if she was an evil harpy in the courtroom.
Seeing her so upset that night -- well, ‘upset’ was perhaps the wrong word. It’s not like she was in tears or on the verge of crawling into a vat of ice cream and never coming out. Bummed? Questioning her worth as a woman? That was more the vibe he got that Saturday night. Still. -- It made him want to swoop her up, protect her, and make her forget everything she was feeling. So Jake decided to make his move.
He’d bought her a drink, used some cheesy lines, and pulled her onto the dance floor. Didn’t matter who, Jake loved to dance with a woman. But he learned that it was even more fun to dance with a pocket-sized-curvy-bombshell like Lane. In that moment, when their bodies swayed together, he felt connected to her. He felt warmth. He’d never felt it before. Everything just fell into place. Then she started grinding on him. Whew.
He knew it wasn't just his cock that made him feel that way. It was Lane. Every curve fit perfectly against him. He’d had to have her. If it hadn’t been for for the hundred or so other guests at Justin and Chloe’s wedding, he would have taken her right there in the middle of the dance floor. He felt her heat grinding into him. She’d wanted him too. Dream. Come. True.
He’d asked her if she knew what she was doing. She’d shook her head no. That bothered him. It hit him that Lane might see him as a one night stand. Surprisingly, even to himself, Jake didn’t want it to be like that with her. He wanted more with Lane than he’d ever wanted with any other woman.
He wanted what his best friend Justin had.
“Well, you tell me when you figure it out, then,” he’d told her. Then released her. As he’d turned to walk away, she stopped him. He smiled before he turned back around. He knew he couldn’t be the only one who’d felt it.
When she’d demanded he take her to his room, he wanted to fist pump like he was in junior high. It took everything he had not to accost her in the elevator. By the time his hotel room door had shut behind them, clothes were flying. Lane ripped his shirt open - buttons scattering about - and jumped into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he pressed her into the door.
He’d ravaged her neck. Biting, sucking, kissing. He remembered like yesterday how she’d pulled at his hair, bit his lip, sucked on his ear. Jesus Christ. They kissed like they were at war. He needed to feel her. His cock had threatened to burst through the fly of his slacks.
He’d slid one of his hands around and popped the button out of the hole on his pants and they dropped to the floor. He could still remember the goosebumps on her skin as he slid his hand along the bottom of her thigh toward her heat. He’d pulled her panties to the side preparing her for his length. She was so wet. He wasn’t sure exactly what happened upon his discovery of this fact, but he was fairly certain he’d groaned involuntarily.
He’d placed the tip of his cock at her opening and slowly entered, stretching her. The moans she made as he filled her were the sexiest fucking sounds he’d ever heard. He could still hear her moaning his name. Soft. Breathy. Sultry. He was done for. It was his heaven. Lane’s pussy was his happy place. She was going to be his.
He took her hard and fast the first time against the door, but the second time…
His thoughts were interrupted by shouting.
“Jake!” Lane shouted “I thought I told you to leave?! What the hell are you still doing here?”
Jake tilted his head at her, confused by the question, “What do you mean? I’m making breakfast. I asked you how you liked your eggs. You shooed me out before I got your answer, so I just made a scramble. I hope this is all right,” he gestured to the stove top.
“Where’d the eggs come from?” Lake asked, confused.
“From a chicken, Laney. But if you’re asking which came first -- chicken or egg -- I can’t answer that question. I can only guarantee you that you’ll come first. Every time,” he winked like a used car salesman. He knew he was a bastard, but he was enjoying the shit out of fucking with her. Lane rolled her eyes.
“Wait, so you brought eggs with you last night?” Lane looked confused.
“Yeah…?” What’s so weird about that? Jake asked himself.
“So you did plan on staying! I knew I wouldn’t have asked you to sleep in my bed. Sneaky, Hamilton. Really sneaky.” She shook her head at him.
“You are delusional woman. I brought eggs just in case I needed them as a binding agent last night. Obviously.”
“For tacos?”
Shit.
Justin was quick to turn the blame back on Lane. “You know what, Red? It’s not my fault you’re slutty when you’re sleepy, okay?”
Her eyes about popped out of her head. “Did you just call me a slut?”
Jesus. “No! I said you were being slutty in your sleep. Totally different.”
“This is just...Jake. I just.” She was breathing heavily. “It’s too much.” She was struggling to catch her breath.“You’re too much for me right now.” Lane started to breath in and out deeply, more slowly. “Fuck,” she breathed out. “Sorry. This just happens to me sometimes.” He could tell she was talking herself through something in her head. Reminding herself to breathe.
Jake wanted to comfort her. Rub her back. Get her to calm down. She was clearly struggling. But he also wanted to show her that thi
s just wasn’t that big of a deal. It was breakfast. Between friends. Friends who had spent one night a month ago engaged in some epic fucking for approximately eight hours. But friends nonetheless.
“Red, calm the fuck down and eat some eggs. I reheated some of the leftover steak if you want, too.” He set two plates on the table, sat down, and patted the seat next to him. “Let’s eat.”
Lane took one more deep breath and let it out. She set her phone and suit jacket down and walked around the island to the table.
Holy fuck. He finally got a good look at her getup for the day. Her fiery hair was up in a bun. She had on a tight royal blue halter top with a gray hip hugging pencil skirt. But the best part of the outfit was her shoes. Lane might be short, but her legs were delicious in heels. Fucking red high heels. She looked like a pocket sized lawyer Wonder Woman.