JAKE

by Juliette Jones

  I remember: the note. “What guy?”

  I follow Jake’s gaze to the building across the street. It’s the one I’m hoping to rent for my new bakery. There’s a man standing out in front, unlocking the front door. Jake slides his laptop into his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He stands up and takes my hand. “Come on.”

  “That’s our appointment? But I haven’t called him yet.”

  “I took care of it.”

  “Jake –”

  But he’s pulling me across the street. He opens the door of the building and we step inside. The man walks out from behind the counter. “Mr. Wolfe?”

  “Yes. And this is Miss Malone.”

  “I’m Joe Farrell. Here are your keys, Miss Malone,” he says, handing me a set of keys. “The deed of ownership is in the envelope there on the counter. You should find all the paperwork you need in there, plus a list of contractors if you want some work done, not that it needs anything. We had all the wiring and plumbing redone a few months ago. And the paintwork’s new. And the appliances are also new and top-of-the-line, as discussed. All it really needs is a good clean, since it’s been vacant for two months. Good luck with the new bakery, Miss Malone. My card’s in the envelope if you have any questions about anything. Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got another appointment. Nice doing business with you, Mr. Wolfe.” He shakes Jake’s hand.

  With that, Mr. Farrell walks out.

  It takes me a minute to start processing everything Mr. Farrell just said. I look around the space. It’s perfect, with industrial-sized ovens in the back and the perfect glass display case that runs half the length of the room. There are huge windows and plenty of floorspace for six or seven tables. “Did he just say ‘deed of ownership’?”

  I look at Jake. He blinks at me innocently. “Yes, I believe he did.”

  “Why?”

  “I bought it for you.”

  I wonder if I’ve heard him correctly.

  “And your restaurant premises, too. The whole building, in fact. There are four apartments upstairs I have a few ideas about what to do with.”

  “What?”

  “It’s all yours. Done and dusted.”

  “You bought it?”

  “Yeah. For you. Everything’s in your name.”

  “But –” My phone rings, from inside my bag. I fish it out. “Hang on just a second.”

  The screen reads Grandma Mae. That’s odd. She never calls me. She usually waits for me to call her. I feel a flare of panic and hit ‘Accept’. “Grandma Mae? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fantastic, darlin’. You are the biggest sweetheart in the whole wide world, Sugar Malone. I always knew you’d be the success story of this family. Lord above. You’ve got those money-making genes your granddaddy had. Too bad he gambled his fortune away, but nevermind all that. They arrived at eight o’clock on the dot this morning, driving up out front with their fleet of white vans. I thought, Who are these people? Then, polite as can be, they start pulling planks of wood and cans of paint out of their trucks and asking me what I want done. We’re here to do it all, Miz Bertrand, they say. Where do you want us to start, says the foreman – his name’s Donny and he’s from Baton Rouge. Cute as a button. And then it clicked and I knew it must have been you that sent them. You always said you’d have this house fixed up for us as soon as your restaurant got up and running and I just wanted to call you and tell you how much I love you, honey. You’re the sweetest thing that ever lived and I just don’t know how to thank you. I better go now, Sugar. Donny needs some instructions so I better make sure they’re doin’ it right. Call me later, honey, when you have time. You take care now. Oh, and Sugar?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your momma called last night and – you won’t believe it – she’s booked a flight direct to Atlanta from Ireland, of all things. She’ll be home this Friday. I always knew she’d come home and now she finally is. She’s going to help me redecorate.”

  “That’s good news.” Very good news.

  “When are you comin’ home for a visit?”

  “As soon as I can.”

  “All right. Thank you, darlin’, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you so much. You won’t even know the place by the time you get home. They’re even going to fix up the cottage, you know the one, in the sweet little peach grove behind the rose garden. We’ll do everything up so pretty you’ll hardly recognize it.”

  “I’m sure you will, Grandma Mae. I’m so glad. You take care and we’ll talk soon.” I fight back tears. I’m not sure if they’re tears of joy, homesickness or fury.

  The call ends.

  I turn to look at Jake. If I’m not mistaken, he looks guilty as sin. Like he’s not sure how I’m going to take all this. And he’s damn right to be uneasy. Because I’m not taking this well at all. “How could you?”

  My hands are on my hips, which seems to amuse him. His uneasiness drifts, replaced by that assured arrogance that irks me at times like these. He’s so damn smug.

  “Calm down,” he has the nerve to say.

  “Calm down? I will not calm down! You know I’ll never be able to pay you back for all this! And now I’ll be indebted to you forever! Which is not how this is supposed to go, Jake Wolfe. You need to undo all this before it goes to far. I can let Grandma Mae down easy, today. Before she gets too used to the whole idea. But the further this goes, the harder it’ll be. And as for the restaurant and this bakery, you need to take it back. I don’t want your money! I didn’t spend the last two days with you because of your money and I don’t want it! Just because you’re hot and loaded doesn’t mean you can throw clothes and bakeries at me like I’m some kind of charity case. It’s too much! You need to take it all back. I won’t accept.” I don’t offer to give him back the cuff – not yet. I love it. It’s like his. We match, and it’s the one thing I’m not letting go of.

  He’s not smiling but he’s got this amused, self-satisfied smirk on his face that winds me up ever more. He says nothing.

  “Jake?”

  He walks over to the counter, picks up the envelope and puts it into his briefcase.

  “Jake.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, ‘no’? I mean it! You need to start making some phone calls.”

  And damn it, he just pre-empted me. Mr. Farrell’s card is in that envelope.

  “Everything’s already signed off,” he says.

  “Well, unsign it off.”

  “Sugar, sweetheart, I’m not going to do that. So you might as well just get used to the idea.”

  “I will not get used to it! I’m ordering you to make those phone calls immediately.”

  He looks me dead in the eyes. Then, in that low, gravel-edged voice that practically floored me the very first time I heard it, he says, “It’s. A. Done. Deal.” Slow, like each word gets its own sentence. As if I’m simple-minded and am having trouble understanding him.

  Arrogant jerk! “Fine. Be that way.” I turn my back and storm out the door, across the street and into my restaurant. Jake, irritatingly, has no trouble keeping up with me, and when I get to the tiny back office with it’s big desk and heavy door, by the time I try to slam it, he’s already pushing his way in there with me.

  “Out,” I say, but he’s already in. And the door is closed. He locks it.

  I’m flustered and upset. Emotions are coursing through my body faster than I can identify them. I miss Georgia. I’m relieved that my mother’s flying straight home. I can’t believe the bakery is mine. In my name. And the restaurant, too. But it shouldn’t be like this. Jake shouldn’t have done that.

  “You had no right.”

  “Sugar. Please. Let’s take this down a notch. Sit down with me and we’ll discuss this reasonably.” He looks around. “You sleep in here?” His eyes rove to a stack of blankets and pillows in the corner. The office has room for the huge desk that I’ve occasionally wondered how they ever got it in here, a chair and very little else. Which is the reason I m
ust have been so tired by the time I got to Jake’s. It’s hardly a restful sleep when I curl myself into the cramped space underneath my desk at night.

  I’m standing with my back against the door. Jake’s standing inches from me. Because there’s nowhere else for him to stand. He sets his bag down on the floor. He puts his palms flat on the door on either side of me, caging me.

  “I meant what I said,” he says to me, all intensely. A lock of his hair sweeps across his forehead, dashingly. His dark gaze seems to pin me in place. His lips are close to mine.

  “What did you say again?”

  He leans closer, like he’s going to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He makes me wait. “I said that you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I said I’m in love with you. I said I’m sorry for hurting you. I said that every second of every day I’ll try my hardest to be good enough for you. I said I’ll do anything and everything to keep you. I said that I’m starved, obsessed and so hot for you that all I can think about is how I’m going to make you come again. Which is exactly what I’m about to do.”

  I’m speechless. I need to tone down the urges of my body. My heart is racing. My skin is flushed from his confessions and the warmth of his body so close to mine. His mouth is so deliciously enticing, I feel almost delirious with anticipation. But, no. He’s taken liberties here he has no right to take. Even so, his eyes are looking at me in that way again. That tender, adoring kindness that he saves just for me.

  “You don’t need to buy me things to do all that. You can show me by just being near me. By being there for me when I might need you.” God, he’s so big. He’s all around me, filling my senses with his man-scent and his beauty. “And by maybe kissing me sometimes.”

  Jake kisses me. He kisses me like he’s never kissed me before. His mouth is ravenous. His tongue pushes into me as his hands grip me, pulling my dress up. I’m wearing nothing underneath – he forgot about that detail on this morning’s shopping list – and he drops to his knees. I moan and grasp at his hair as he kisses my stomach, biting my skin, gripping hard with his fingers. Oh, God, he’s almost there, kissing the high skin of my thighs.

  “Jesus Christ,” he groans. “You are so damn beautiful.”

  Slowly, sweetly, he touches his mouth to my pussy, licking me with a long, slow stroke of his tongue.

  My knees give out.

  Jake catches me, holding my weight like it’s nothing. He lifts me and lays me onto the desk. He crouches over me like a big cat. “I’m going to kiss you all over, my sweet little Sugar pie, and make you come. Are you ready for me?”

  I’m breathing hard. I’m sprawled out under him with my dress around my waist and my legs wrapped around him. And I’m supposed to be mad at him.

  He licks my lips. “I’m not going to ask your permission every time I want to buy you something. You’re my girl. I have shitloads of money. If I feel like buying you something, I’m going to fucking buy you something. Are we clear?”

  He sounds like he means it. “I’m going to pay you back.”

  “You already did. When you served me a slice of your pie. Warm with homemade ice cream. And when you didn’t walk out on me, even though I could’ve hurt you. You didn’t even flinch.”

  “Jake, you didn’t mean to do it.”

  “I know that. But you could’ve hated me for it.”

  “I couldn’t hate you for that. You’re good. You’re sweet. So sweet.”

  He closes his eyes for a second. Exhales an exasperated little huff. Then his eyes open again and they’re so full of emotion and love I don’t ever want to look away. He’s mine. My Jake. “And you are more dazzling than anything my jaded mind could have dreamed up. Now stop protesting every damn thing. Lie back and let me give you what you need. Let me give you everything I have. It’s the only thing that makes me feel good.”

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Most of all, for sending those contractors to my house. I want to take you down there, once it’s finished. I want to show you my favorite little cottage in the rose garden. And the peach grove.”

  “I can hardly wait. Now stop talking and close your eyes.”

  I do it. I close my eyes. And I wait.

  Nothing happens.

  I open my eyes and he’s there, smiling at me. “Just making sure you’re ready.”

  “Ha.”

  “You’re ready?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think so.”

  “I am. I’m ready.”

  “Good. Now just relax.” I do. I take a deep breath and let myself go. I give myself up to him. To whatever he’s about to do.

  He kisses my neck. His strong, sure hands rove my body. His teeth close around my beaded nipple through the silk of my dress. The pressure sends tiny shards of pleasure to my pussy. It feels so good. I arch up to his mouth. I want his mouth on my body, on my skin. I moan and writhe, I can’t help it. My legs fall open. He eases himself lower, pushing my dress up further, kissing and licking the skin of my stomach, my thighs, everywhere but where I want him.

  I’m so wet. So hot. I need him.

  I plead. I grab fistfuls of his hair. I feel frantic for him.

  “It’s okay,” he says against my skin. “I’m here. I’ll give you everything you want. Just relax.”

  I do. I try. I’ll do anything he says. “Jake.” I need him so much.

  “I’m here, sweet girl.”

  His fingers touch me. His tongue licks me. He laps tenderly at first, dipping his tongue inside me with tender, prodding strokes. His fingers ease inside as his mouth latches onto my clit, sucking and flicking in tugging little pulls, so skillfully, so adoringly. I squirm, but he holds me in place with his hands, doing whatever he wants with me. His mouth licks into my pussy, deeper, sucking strongly on my clit as his fingers prod deeper. It’s so indecent. So beautiful. He holds me down. His mouth is relentless. His fingers are shameless. Jake Wolfe never heard of Southern manners, that’s for damn sure. And I love him for it. His mouth is, oh God, so hungry.

  Oh my God. His fingers!

  Curling into unbelievably sensitive places. And he’s sucking on me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His mouth is pulling, teasing, eating me alive.

  I moan. I can feel it starting. The sweet heat is rising. Fast. He won’t relent. He can taste it. He can tell I’m starting to come. He increases his tempo. He sucks my clit hard and flicks me with his tongue as his fingers delve in some crazy-sweet rhythm and that’s it.

  I come. The wave rises so fast and crashes so hard I think I might be moaning or crying or begging for him to stop and keep going. My whole body’s coming. My pussy is spasming so hard it’s like a full-body rave of orgasmic bliss, over and over. I can feel the tingling all the way to my fingers and toes. The center of me feels like a glowing pulse of rocking ecstasy. I’m writhing against his mouth. I’m squirming against his slippery fingers. I think I might be telling him I love him. Because I do.

  The waves start to calm. I try to catch my breath. I wait for my heartbeat to level out.

  But then I feel his teeth, biting my clit as his mouth suckles me and his fingers play me so sweetly I want to cry. I come again. Even harder. I see stars as my body goes limp, quivering and wriggling with the force of my orgasm. The pulsing beauty is too much. I’m grasping his hair in silky handfuls. I’m crying his name.

  I’m never giving him up. I’m never letting him go.

  The swell is excruciating. I can only ride it, and wonder if I’ll ever recover from this.

  In time, I come down. Reality starts to ease its way in.

  I pull on his hair and his climbs up my body, laying his weight gently onto mine. He gazes into my eyes. He kisses me and I can taste my own pleasure on his mouth.

  “Jake.”

  “Right here, babe.”

  “Holy fuck.” It’s all I’m capable of, so I say it again. “Jake.
Mine.”

  He’s smiling that smug smile again and this time I’ll admit it’s warranted. “All yours, Sugar pie. All yours.”

  I’ve found heaven on earth and it’s right here. My sweet, juicy little Georgia peach.

  It’s been a long time since I touched another human being aside from the usual business meeting handshakes or the occasional pat on the back. I hadn’t missed physical contact, not at all. I’d sworn it off years ago and never expected to have much to do with it again. I’d accepted, as part of my damages, that it was just a part of who I’d become.

  This, now, her: she’s a revelation. So goddamn gorgeous I can hardly handle it. She tastes like a miracle. I’m beyond addicted. My obsession is so overblown I can’t see straight. I don’t ever want to be without her, not for a single second.

  I want to be inside her so bad the edges of my sanity feel frayed.

  All you need to do is slide that big beast of a cock into her tight little pussy, Jake. Do it now. She’s so wet for you. So soft and ready, sweet as candy.

  But the monster in me feels less rage-driven than it always used to. Savage as hell, yes, but now it’s all about her pleasure, her safety, her happiness.

  I’ll have her, there’s no doubt in my mind about that. When she’s surrounded by flowers and five-star luxury. When she’s been sipping champagne and laughing, high on life and love and lust. Not here on her hard desk in this cramped little office. Not good enough. I’m going to make sure her first time is so fucking beautiful she’ll never forget it.