by Rachel Cross
“Ugh. I hate those shows. The good guys always win.”
“I thought you of all people would like that.”
“Well, that’s not how it is in real life and it gets to me. I really can’t stand to watch any of those shows,” she replied, a hard edge to her voice.
This was about her father, Jake instantly understood. He propped her chin up, looked into her eyes and kissed her once, softly.
Keila sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overreact. I know it’s just a show.”
“I get it,” Jake said, and meant it.
Keila was quiet for a while. Her thoughts had clearly gone elsewhere. When she finally spoke, it seemed as if she’d come to a conclusion. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being angry about what happened to my dad.”
“I’d be angry too,” Jake said softly, running his hand along her hair.
“At least I’m not angry at my dad anymore. I went through this phase where I was so mad at him for choosing to be a policeman . . . ” Her voice, tinged with guilt, trailed off and she was thoughtful again.
“Did they ever catch whoever did it?” he gently asked.
“He was killed in the cross-fire, so at least he isn’t running around free. I don’t think any of us could have gotten over that. But I wish he could’ve rotted away in prison instead, you know? It feels like instant death wasn’t enough of a punishment.”
“You’re against capital punishment, then?” he asked, genuinely interested in the point of view of someone who’d lost her father to violence.
“Of course I’m against it, like I said, I think losing your freedom is a fate worse than death. But I’ll bet you’re all for it. We’ll probably never see eye-to-eye on anything,” she remarked.
Jake kissed her. “How about we agree that you’ll always be on the opposite side of where I stand?”
“Sounds good to me.” She laid her head on his shoulder again and asked, “Speaking of sides, why do you really want to be mayor?”
“Because Chicago is the greatest city in the world.”
“That’s not a real answer! I know plenty of people who feel the same way and not one of them would ever think of running for mayor.”
Jake looked at her. “Fine. I don’t know. I believe in it, I guess, the way I believe in very few things. To me, it lives and breathes and never dies. It’s always changing, adapting, and surviving. Ever since I can remember I’ve been coming up with ideas to help it continue its journey.” He stopped and picked at a loose thread on Keila’s jeans. “And it’s always been about the people, you know? Past and present. Chicago was built on the backs of people who believed those who came after them would have the opportunity to get an education and find work to provide them with a good life. I want to make sure everyone has that opportunity, knows it, and understands the rest is up to them.” He looked up at her now, and her eyes were so bright and clear that he knew she believed him. It made him want to kiss her, as deeply as ever, and he moved his hand to the back of her neck to do just that. But before her lips touched his, she said, “That’s what you should always say. You should open yourself up to the people you want to help the way you open up to me . . . well, the way you open up to me sometimes.”
Jake looked at her again, surprised at her last words. Had he been opening up to her without even realizing it? But she put her hands around his neck, pulling him in for the kiss he’d started, and he forgot to care.
• • •
A long time after their late supper, Keila was backed up against the door to her room, Jake’s hands and mouth making her feel breathless and just a little bit desperate and unfulfilled. Jake seemed to notice because he broke away and said, “I don’t think I have any restraint left in me, and I don’t want this to lead somewhere you’ll regret.” Taking a deep breath he added, “Maybe we should just say goodnight.”
“You’ve shown restraint?”
Jake’s eyes flashed with so much heat and promise that Keila wasn’t sure she could take it. She pushed him away, effectively dismissing him. “Good night, Jake. Now, goodbye,” she said.
He laughed and some of the tension melted away. “Okay, I’ll leave. Just give me one more good night kiss. A little one.”
She sighed in mock exasperation and gave him an unsatisfactory peck on the cheek. “There. Good night.”
He took her hands in his, and kissed each of her palms before turning to leave.
But the moment she felt his roughened palms she hesitated, holding on to his hands, and thinking about how they revealed a different side to him. Without thinking, she brought them up to her lips and kissed each of his palms, too.
He looked down at her and she looked up at him. The tension was back.
Hooking a finger in the front of her jeans, he pulled her closer. Her breath hitched. He picked her up, not breaking eye contact, and set her down on her bed. Soon, he was sliding her sweater up over her head. The moment she felt the cool air on her skin she backed away.
• • •
Before they could go further, Keila pulled away once more, fear alive in her eyes. But she didn’t go very far, she just lay on her side, looking at him with wide, apprehensive eyes. Though he was all wound up inside, he didn’t want to pressure her. He mimicked her position, and they just gazed at each other for a while. He began tracing a finger down her arm, and smiled when he saw goose bumps immediately appear.
“Do you think maybe we just have great physical chemistry but we’re too different to really get along?” she asked. He watched the swell of her breasts as she breathed in and out. His mouth went dry and he could barely think. Aching, he looked away and tried to remember what she’d asked.
“Just because we think differently, doesn’t mean we don’t get along. I think both our hearts are in the right place. Yours just bleeds too much.” He smiled and grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “I like how deeply you feel things, Keila. And I’m fascinated by how quickly you go from one emotion to another.”
“Are you calling me emotional again?”
“Let’s just say I never have to guess what you’re feeling,” he answered, before more thoughtfully adding, “And if you hadn’t acted on your feelings, we would’ve missed out on this weekend.” The thought of missing out on Keila and everything they’d been experiencing disturbed him. He pulled her close, wound his arms around her, and softly kissed her forehead, fearful she’d try to send him away again. Right now, he needed her.
• • •
There was such a world of feeling behind that one innocent kiss, it was hard for Keila not to be moved. He then set her atop him, and she lay on his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly beneath her. “You make me forget everything I know,” she said.
“And you make me doubt everything I think I know,” he replied; kissing her shoulder and unhitching the back of her bra.
Keila lay still, reveling at every sensation and wondering at the difference between their confessions. She had no doubts. No matter how wrapped up in the moment she felt, and no matter how far away real life seemed, she knew this whole thing was impossible. Jake had two things Keila couldn’t deal with; a far-removed life she could never feel a part of, and, more importantly, the ability to permanently break her heart. She’d take this weekend and then walk away for good with a hurting heart, but not one in pieces.
Jake rolled her so that he was atop her, propped on his elbows. His mouth hot, he kissed her slowly as his hands slipped under her bra. The moment she felt his burning hands on her sensitive skin, there was no turning back. Barely breathing, she said, “Jake, I’m . . . I’m scared. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”
He held her to him, and she felt two, out of control heartbeats. “Believe it or not, Keila, neither have I. Not like this.” He looked into her eyes then, and kissed her thoroughly, while his hands moved over her, warm and gentle, easing her into delicious intimacy. Piece by piece, she melted into him, trying hard to keep her heart to herself.
Befo
re long, she was responding to every kiss and every touch with urgency. He fulfilled newfound needs, and just when she thought nothing could feel better, he lifted her to dizzying heights and free-fell with her into sensations she never knew existed.
The way he looked at her and the way he wrapped himself around her, breathing her in . . . for a while she let herself believe this wasn’t just about a man and a woman needing one night. This was about her and Jake needing each other.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Keila slept later than usual because she’d barely slept at all during the night. Trying to not think was harder work than thinking and it had taken her nearly all night to push intrusive curiosities about Jake away. Suddenly, she wanted to know everything about him. She showered, got dressed, took her violin out, and practiced for a full hour before the smell of sausage and eggs wafted up to her.
Sooner or later, she’d have to eat. And sooner or later, she’d have to face Jake. The day before now seemed surreal and she wondered how they’d behave toward each other. Would they acknowledge it had been a mistake to let themselves get caught up in a runaway attraction? Or would they continue down a path she just wasn’t sure of?
Keila hoped they would pick up where they left off until the weekend was over, then they could acknowledge the mistake, and then she could go home and regret it. Simple plan . . . except she wasn’t sure how to pick up where they left off. What if she kissed him good morning and he pushed her away, wanting to acknowledge the mistake sooner rather than later?
Keila strolled in to the kitchen with a call of “Good morning,” served herself breakfast and then said, “Thank you for breakfast,” all without looking at Jake.
He didn’t try to make small talk, just acknowledged her muttering with a murmur or two of his own.
Once she finished eating, she got up to wash the skillet and dishes, and Jake came up beside her to give her his plate and help her dry everything off.
“I need to get a dishwasher in here,” he muttered.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind doing the dishes,” she responded just to have something to say, but then realized it was a dumb remark because she’d never be coming back here. “I mean, you don’t have to go out and get one today because I don’t mind doing the dishes while I’m here, but of course it’ll be a good idea to buy one in case the next woman who comes here doesn’t like to do the dishes,” she then said, before realizing it was an even stupider thing to say because she now sounded as if she were thinking about the other women who came there, which she hadn’t been.
But, of course, she now was. And the thought that he probably brought tons of conquests here made her feel amazingly unoriginal. Her self-esteem momentarily went down the drain with the warm, sudsy water and she took a few steps back, stopping because she hit the kitchen island. Jake shut the water off and faced her.
“Keila, I’ve never brought another woman here, okay? I don’t even bring them home. I stay—” he stopped and breathed out. “Wait. That came out wrong. You’d think after all of Cate’s training I’d learn to keep it short.”
“You don’t owe me explanations, Jake, I wasn’t jealous or anything like that, I was just babbling,” Keila shrugged.
“All right. No explanations. I just thought you should know.” Jake leaned against the kitchen sink.
Keila swallowed hard. “But you know what? Now that we’re on the subject, why haven’t you brought any other women here? It’s out of the way and secluded . . . ”
Jake cleared his throat. “Because it would be intrusive; this is my, I don’t know, my haven, I guess you could call it.”
“Then why did you bring me here?” Keila asked, folding her arms.
• • •
Jake wasn’t caught off guard by the question, but he was definitely surprised by the first response that came to mind: because he felt free and safe with her. And wasn’t that what havens were for? But he instead spoke another truth, “Because it seemed like you needed a haven, too.”
“I did. Thank you.”
“And because I really like hearing you play. I don’t know much about music, but you draw me in somehow and make me feel what you’re feeling . . . especially yesterday at noon. I knew exactly what you were feeling from the way you played,” he said, edging closer to her.
He held out his hand, and though he noted the uncertainty in her eyes, she took it. He gave her a gentle tug and she was finally in his arms again, but not looking at him. Hesitantly, as if they hadn’t already spent the night in each other’s arms, he brought her chin up so that he could look into her eyes.
Then, without taking his eyes off hers, he lowered his mouth and kissed her. She sighed and kissed him back slowly, seductively. Her hands began to move over his chest and Jake backed her up against the kitchen island and propped her up on top of it, where his hands could reach more of her. Things got wild quickly. They didn’t make it out of the kitchen until almost noon.
And with all the work that Jake had wanted to get done on the house that weekend, he barely got any work done. It was impossible to stay away from Keila when every one of his nerve endings had him gravitating toward her. He only worked peacefully when she practiced her violin. She was adamant about practicing and he had to admire her for it.
No matter where he was in the house, her music reached him, and no matter how arduous a task he was trying to get done, he felt at ease with the world just listening to her play, knowing she was just steps away.
After dinner that night, Keila went upstairs, hinting at a surprise. Jake nearly salivated, imagining her in something flimsy, lacy, and white. But when she same back down minutes later, she was swaying a long, red skirt around with one hand and holding an MP3 in the other. “I thought I’d teach you how to dance . . . merengue!” she said excitedly, playfully twirling her skirt.
Though disappointed, he realized he couldn’t say no to her enthusiasm, even though he really didn’t want to merengue. He didn’t know what merengue was, but it didn’t sound like it was something any Kelly would do. Salsa at SummerDance had been a fluke.
Keila played a spirited song, grabbed his hands and pulled him close. Jake pretended to sigh in protest when she put his hands into position on her waist and shoulder, though in reality it brought back a pleasant memory.
“Come on, it’s fun and easy. It’s basically just like marching, left right left right left right left right,” Keila instructed as she began to move. Jake looked at her and raised both eyebrows suggestively when he felt her swaying, sizzling hip under his hand. His other hand slipped down to her other hip, which moved in an equally hypnotic rhythm, but Keila tugged it back up to her shoulder, laughing. “Come on, you’re not moving, Jake! Just take one step to each beat of music, left, and right. Don’t act like you don’t want to; I know you had fun last time we danced.” Jake rolled his eyes and began to move. He was rewarded with a quick kiss, so he tried a little harder. The music, pulsing with festive beats, helped.
A song infused with sensual, throbbing, rhythms called “Suavemente” began to play and they danced in close position for a while. He gained confidence and began to take control, and her body became supple and more limber in his arms. “What’s this song about? ‘Suavemente’ means ‘softly,’ right?” Jake asked.
“It’s about kissing.” Keila looked up at him and Jake nodded. He wouldn’t have thought anyone could make up an entire song just about kissing, until he’d kissed Keila. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it.
She began giving him instructions again, to get him to move with what she called a Cuban Motion, and Jake complied, knowing there was only one thing in the world he’d find more satisfying than crushing his hips against Keila’s in such sensual rhythms. Pretty soon, he got the hang of the Cuban Motion, and by the next song, Keila was teaching him a very suggestive move called the pretzel.
The more she moved, the hotter her skin felt against his. It was impossible not to slip his hands down to her hips and hold
her closer to him when she swayed and moved in such tortuous ways. “You’re right, this is fun,” he said, reluctantly taking a step back. It surprised him to discover he didn’t want her to think he was just another single-minded male. He enjoyed just being with her and he wanted her to enjoy just being with him, too.
She smiled up at him. “Isn’t it? I feel like I could be like this with you for—”
Jake’s body stiffened and stopped moving by its own volition, and he held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t finish the thought, and thankfully, she backtracked. “For the rest of this weekend,” she finished.
• • •
Keila placed her head on Jake’s shoulder for a while, so he wouldn’t see her burning cheeks, and so she could take in his delicious scent. She couldn’t believe she’d almost said forever. But his eyes had been ablaze as he’d looked down at her, and his body had felt so right against hers, she’d nearly lost her mind. But his quick reaction brought her back down to earth, and she’d been glad for it, because after all, there was no other place in the world she wanted to be at that moment.
“I know there’s nowhere to go from here,” she finally said. “And I’m okay with that.”
Jake was quiet for a while. Finally, he said, “No, not now. Now is impossible, you’d wind up hating me.”
“Not now, and not ever,” Keila corrected.
They danced slowly, holding each other close; in quiet understanding that this would all soon end.
• • •
They spent their last day and night together in normal everyday tasks like cooking, cleaning, and watching TV, and interspersed it with making love, and sharing thoughts, old stories, and hopes; both careful that their hopes had nothing to do with the other.
The final morning Keila awoke to soft sunlight pouring through white curtains, and Jake’s warm, solid arms wrapped around her, his head on her chest. It seemed like he was hanging on more than hugging her.
A few hours later, reluctantly, they were in the car and pulling away. Keila didn’t look back; she just stared out the window, a strange, peaceful emptiness settling within her. Jake took her hand in his, and concentrated on the road ahead.