Falling In

by Hopkins, Andrea

  I can’t get over how right this feels. Throw in Cady and Dyl, and I can picture us doing this every night. Happily doing this every night. Like everything I do with Jake, it feels like we’ve been doing it our entire lives. Together. I don’t know what to make of that.

  Shit, that’s a lie.

  I do. Deep down, I do. I’m just not sure I’m ready to admit it out loud. To do what needs to be done, if that is even the right answer. Is there a right answer here? A part of me, a big part, knows what must be done, but there is still that lingering chunk that wants to hold on, is afraid to let go and be honest with myself and everyone else.

  “Hey, you ready to eat?” Jake asks, standing in front of me, tearing me away from my thoughts. From the look on his face, he’s been standing here for a while. “Where’d you go?” He drags the front of his index finger down my cheek.

  “Nowhere. I’m still here. Just—thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “That I’m happy. I probably shouldn’t be. I feel guilty that I am. But I can’t help it. You make me happy.” I say with a small smile, which grows rapidly once I see his face. He’s beaming. Full of jubilance and pride. He grabs my face, pulling my mouth towards his. The kiss is loving and sweet, packed with emotion. If the elongated sigh he releases after we kiss is any indication, he doesn’t want it to end. We’re in the same boat. I could kiss him forever.

  Forever.

  “C’mon, let’s eat before Ben devours it all.” He whispers against my lips.

  Sure enough, once we retreat out of our bubble, we find Ben chowing down on what looks and smells like ridiculously mouth-watering and delicious homemade pasta. And after one bite, I can say confidently that yes, it is all of those things.

  Throughout dinner, we take turns exchanging glances and smiles while Ben rants about Harry Potter between bites. We laugh and pass food around, liberally pouring wine. It’s all very family dinner-like. It actually feels like we’ve been doing this for years. I can tell how happy it’s making Jake, seeing Ben be so open and animated. The loving look he has for his nephew is gut-wrenchingly sweet. I’m guessing dinner isn’t always like this, and I’m honored that I get to be a part of it.

  After we finish eating, I’m about to start the dishes with Jake when Ben asks if I can go to his room with him and read some of The Chamber of Secrets with him. We both look over at Jake with hopeful faces, waiting in anticipation for his answer. He laughs and tells us to get out of there.

  For the next hour, Ben and I cuddle on his bed as I read from where Jake left off. I’m so immersed in the words, I don’t realize that he fell asleep until he starts to lightly snore in the crook of my arm.

  I quietly ease out of his bed and place the book on his side table. Then I skillfully remove his shoes, setting them down noiselessly on the floor and cover him up with his solar system blanket. Once I turn around, I instantly jump back, letting out a thankfully small yelp as I find Jake standing in the doorway. I place my hand over my heart, hoping to calm it down and give him a dirty look. He’s trying to hold back his laughter. I place my index finger on my lips, shushing him to stay quiet, and turn out the light before tip-toeing out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

  Once I’m in the safety of the hallway, I hit Jake in the arm. He just laughs; apparently, I don’t pack a mean punch.

  “How long were you standing there?”

  “Oh, about a half hour. I didn’t want to interrupt. And I was going to stop you once he fell asleep, but you were so into it and you looked so damn adorable, I just wanted to keep listening.” He grabs my hands and pulls me into his wanting embrace, encasing his arms around me, tight and comforting. “You’re so good with him. My sister was a great mom—it came naturally to her. I never thought someone would be able to make him smile the way she could, until you. You’re bringing us back, pixie.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.”

  I listen and say nothing, but let my actions speak for me. Let my body say what my mind is too scared to. I pull away slightly, just enough to see his face. I snake my arms through his and wrap one around the back of his head. Standing on my tippy toes, I press my lips to his. Our mouths connect lightly at first, almost teasingly and hesitant. They move together, letting only the tips of our tongues graze each other. We’re in no rush; our movement is languid, like we’re savoring each second, each swipe of the tongue. His hand begins to move down the small of my back, while the other is deeply clenched inside my hair. As our lips begin to pick up their pace, I push him against the wall, needing more balance and to feel him more thoroughly. But even that isn’t enough.

  Damn, my lack of height really sucks right now.

  As if he can sense my frustration, his hands move to my ass, squeezing tightly before lifting me up. Instantly, my legs wrap around his waist. My body knows exactly what to do when I’m this close to Jake.

  “I think, from now on, I’m just going to carry you wherever we go,” he murmurs against my lips.

  “I didn’t say to stop kissing me.”

  “Mmm, I love feisty pixie.” He says before attacking my lips harder. I tug on his hair a bit, loving the moan and “fuck” that follows. I’m so in the moment, so focused on what his lips on mine are doing to other parts of my body that I don’t realize we’ve moved until he eases me onto his bed. Our lips part as he hovers over me, staring down at me with hooded eyes.

  “Stay with me.”

  “What?”

  “The weekend. Stay with me and Ben for the weekend.”

  “Jake, I don’t know—”

  “We don’t have to do anything. I would never pressure you to do anything you’re unsure of. I just—I want to know how it feels to wake up next to you in the morning, to see you in my bed when the sun comes up.” He admits, brushing wandering tendrils from my face. Some of the lust has left his face and has been replaced with vulnerability. And his eyes, his eyes say everything he’s holding back. Everything he wants to say but doesn’t want to for fear of scaring me away.

  I’m just about to answer him when my phone goes off, playing Cole’s song. Keeping my eyes trained on Jake, I slip my hand into my pocket and pull it out.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mama!” Cady practically screams, excitement pouring out of her little voice.

  “Aw, hey, baby girl!” Jake releases what sounds like a relieved sigh and smiles. He kisses my forehead before pushing himself off and over me, only to lay down right next to me, our heads resting side by side.

  After the first five minutes, Jake grabs my hand and starts playing with my fingers, occasionally kissing the tips. We stay this way for at least twenty minutes while the kids tell me about the rest of their day, and how much fun they’re having. After another five minutes, I hear Cole in the background telling them it’s bedtime, so we say our goodbyes. I feel a pang of longing and guilt as I end the call without speaking to Cole directly.

  “Are you okay?” Jake whispers.

  I nod my head, then crane my neck to look at him. I smile at the genuine concern written all over his face and I just have to kiss him. I lean in and place my mouth gently on his. “Yes.” I whisper back between kisses.

  “What?”

  “Yes, I’ll stay with you.”

  I can feel his smile against my lips, but it doesn’t last long before our sweet embrace turns into a full on make-out session. Enduring our side-by-side position for a bit too long, Jake finally gets fed up and grips my hips with his strong hands, pulling me on top of him. He sits up so I’m straddling him, my dress riding up to my upper thighs. His hands take full advantage, moving up and down my exposed skin, setting off an explosion of tingles along my limbs.

  I weave my fingers through his thick, dark hair as my lips continue to explore his. I can feel the strain in his pants against my ass, and I’m getting so turned on as his hands creep up my dress, stopping right at the edge of my panties. I know we should s
top. We’re getting close to the point of no return here. But my willpower is waning fast, and I just want to give in.

  I just want him.

  My body starts moving on its own accord, grinding against his jeans, while Jake’s hands clench my skin so tight, I’m afraid he might draw blood. In the moment, I really don’t give a shit. I just want his tongue to keep assaulting mine the way that it is.

  “Pixie. Baby.” He breathes out as he moves his mouth to my neck.

  “Oh goddess. What?” Goose bumps cover my entire body now, and my downstairs is begging me to let him inside. And Lord help me, I am a single request away from giving him everything. But with that fleeting thought, Jake’s mouth stops moving, and I hear him sigh against my neck.

  “We have to stop now. If we go at this any longer, I won’t be able to control myself,” he admits.

  “I know. I think I’ve reached my breaking point.”

  He slowly removes his hands from underneath my dress and brings them to my face, tucking stray curls behind my ears. His eyes penetrate mine, and all I see is his love for me. It shines through so brightly, it’s almost blinding.

  “A month ago, I would’ve taken you right here, right now, not giving two fucks whether you’re available or not. But now—I don’t want to be the other guy. I want to be the guy. Your guy.” He admits, wincing in what looks like embarrassment. “God, I sound like a pussy, don’t I?” I smile and kiss his palms that are still cupping my face.

  “No, you don’t sound like a pussy. It’s sweet and honest and makes me—” I trail off, shaking my head. I’m afraid to say what I’m really thinking. Afraid to say too much. But of course he won’t let me get away with that. Should’ve known.

  He’s such a persistent asshole.

  “Makes you what?” I shake my head again in protest, but his inquisitive green eyes bore into mine, willing me to answer. “Pixie. Please.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. A need.

  “When you stay stuff like that, and when you do stuff like this—holding my face in your hands like I’m this precious entity—it makes it so damn hard not to fall in.”

  “Fall in what?”

  I shut my eyes tightly and say the words that could alter my entire life, forever.

  “Fall in love with you.”

  Once the words leave my mouth, I open my eyes and am met with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, and before I know it, Jake’s lips are back on mine. The kiss is bursting with emotion. I can feel his love and his worry, his happiness and his remaining reservations with every move of his mouth, every caress of his tongue.

  “You just might be the death of me, beautiful.” He sighs after releasing my face from his grasp.

  “I know what you mean,” I whisper back. “So what now?”

  “Now, I might have to take a long, cold shower. You wanna change and maybe watch TV in bed or read a book while I’m in there?”

  “This sounds vaguely familiar.” I say with a smirk, remembering the intensely hot and slightly embarrassing event from earlier today. He returns my smirk, no doubt thinking about the same thing.

  “Now I really need to take a shower.”

  “Well, you do that, and I’ll run back home and grab pajamas.” I tell him, getting up from his bed.

  “No way. You don’t need pajamas.”

  “Jake. If we are going to keep things platonic, I definitely need pajamas.”

  “You can borrow something of mine. I don’t want you leaving the house. You’ll think too much over there, and probably won’t come back, and I won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.” He goes over to his closet and begins to search for something. I’m about to protest again when I’m hit in the face with a t-shirt. “There you go. Pajamas.”

  I pick the shirt up off the floor and hold it up, smiling when I see it’s an old, worn out New York Dolls tee. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. All right, I’ll be five minutes, tops.” He says before placing a kiss on my forehead. “Don’t go anywhere.” He warns, his eyes reducing to slits.

  “I won’t. Promise.”

  “Good girl.” He winks and then turns on his heel, walking purposefully to the bathroom. I wait until I hear the shower turn on before I start to undress. I maneuver my arms out of the straps to my dress, letting it pool to the floor, leaving me in nothing but a pair of tiny black boy shorts. I lift up Jake’s shirt and bring it to my face, taking in the lingering smell of him left on the fabric.

  Not wanting to get caught being a weirdo, I quickly slip it on over my head. I was hoping that since I am so petite, it would be a bit long on me, but he must’ve picked out his smallest damn shirt, because it just barely covers my big ass.

  Crafty bastard.

  I can still hear the shower running, so I go on the hunt for the remote. I don’t have to search for too long, though, finding it on his nightstand on the other side of his bed. When I pick it up, I realize it was laying on top of one of my books. Not the series I gave he has been reading, but my very first novel. He didn’t even tell me he was reading it. I resist the urge to barge into his bathroom and assault his mouth and decide on climbing into his bed instead. I lay down on top of the blanket, stretching my legs out and letting my body mold into his sinfully comfortable mattress.

  I’m just turning on The Daily Show when the bathroom door opens and out walks Jake, in nothing but a towel wrapped precariously around his waist. His hair is still wet, allowing beads of water to run down his chest, over his ridiculously toned abs, and landing in the proximity of whatever he has going on behind that towel. I’m definitely experiencing that Emma Stone-Ryan Gosling moment in Crazy, Stupid, Love. His abs are so toned, they look spray painted on. They’re that perfect. I can’t take my eyes off of him.

  Holy shit, this man is beautiful.

  “Do you need a towel?” he asks, breaking me from my stare-fest.

  “What?” I ask, confusedly. Why the hell would I need a towel?

  “To wipe the drool dribbling out of your mouth,” he replies with a cocky smirk. I grab a pillow and toss it at him, completely missing him, thanks to his fantastic pillow-dodging skills.

  “Ass.”

  Jake just winks at me, his usual response to his frequently brash behavior. Ugh. Sometimes I just want to poke that winking eye with my finger.

  That thought quickly vanishes—as does my ability to breathe—as he drops his towel. His back is facing me, so I don’t see what he has going on in the front. But what I can see is doing all sorts of things to my body. His ass is, in a word, delectable. But as quickly as it appeared, it goes away. He pulls a pair of boxer briefs up over his behind, thus ending my pervy peepshow.

  Once he turns around, I am met with another knowing smirk. I shrug.

  “Can you blame me?” I say, replying to his unspoken comment.

  “Nah, I can’t. I’m fucking hot as hell.” I burst into laughter, but it quickly subsides once I see the odd look on his face.

  “What is it?”

  He shakes his head back and forth. “I think I might have to take another cold shower, because you, in my shirt, laying in my bed, is fucking blowing my mind. Damn, pixie. You get sexier every day.”

  I feel my cheeks warm as he sidles next to me. “Aren’t you going to put more clothes on?” I ask, half hoping he does, while the other more wicked half hopes he takes off the tight black briefs and shows me what he’s got and just how well he operates it.

  This is what he does to me. Turns me into some horny, twenty-seven year old sex deviant.

  “I wasn’t planning on it. I always sleep in my underwear, or nothing at all. But I figured that wouldn’t be appropriate, unless you think you can handle it?” he challenges, his eyes sparking with mischief.

  “For tonight, I think we should stick to the briefs. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t handle it. I can handle anything you got.” I reply with an equally playful grin.

  “Fuck.” He breathes out before bringing his mouth to my ear, whisp
ering, “I bet you can. More than any women ever could, and most likely ever will. I can’t wait for you to show me just how much of me you can handle.”

  He pulls away from my ear, taking a glimpse of my no doubt lusty and dumbfounded face before covering my mouth with his. Once he pulls away again, I have no idea what I was going to say. All I know is that when he kisses me all I see, all I feel, all I breathe is Jake.

  I’ve never felt that way.

  Not even with Cole.

  “So, what are we watching?” he asks, laying his head back down on his pillow, slipping his arm underneath my neck and pulling me into his nook. I’m still so entranced in all his damn sexiness I don’t answer until I see him looking at me with his eyebrows raised and his mouth tilted up in a knowing, crooked smile.

  “The Daily Show.” I finally respond as I shake the dirty thoughts that are vividly flashing through my mind.

  “You need to stop that.”

  “Stop what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

  “You know what.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I try my damnedest to say it with a straight face while avoiding his and focusing all of my energy on Jon Stewart.

  “You were looking at me like you wanted me to rip that t-shirt and those tiny as hell panties right off you, spread your thighs as far open as they’ll go, and sink my cock between those lips so deeply you’ll be seeing stars.” My breathing falters and my vision goes hazy as I picture him doing that exact thing. “And I swear to God, it’s taking every shred of my self-control not to do it. So, pixie, stop looking at me like that.”

  I somehow manage to mumble an “okay,” although it sounds like some gibberish a mouse would squeak out. I inhale deeply, trying to release this craving that is burgeoning in the pit of my stomach. With tentative eyes, I watch him lay back down and smile as I feel his arm make its way behind my neck again, pulling me closer to him. We both sigh at the same time, mutually feeling the rightness we always seem to experience when I am in his arms.

  It takes a few minutes for the sexual tension to die down, but before we know it, we’re laughing hysterically at the TV. Jon Stewart never fails.