Cooking Up Love

by Gemma Brocato

  She stood up straighter and moved her feet farther apart, assuming a more comfortable stance. And she let him look. For about fifteen seconds. Until, at last, a smile flirted with the corners of his mouth and the sexy dimples appeared. She cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her face. “Does it seem fair that there’s only one undressed person in this room?” she teased lightly, her eyes wide in mock innocence. “I stripped off for you. Now return the favor, please. I’d like you to get naked. Right now.”

  Jack pulled his hands from his pockets and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt rapidly as he kicked off his shoes. He shrugged out of the shirt, tossed it to the corner of the room and unfastened the buckle of his belt. He unsnapped and unzipped his pants, then pushed them, along with his briefs, down his sturdy, muscular legs and stepped out of them.

  And stood there, completely still as Jem took her turn gazing at him.

  Her eyes roved over the planes of his broad, lightly furred chest and lowered slowly, appreciatively to the six-pack of his abdomen. His wasn’t the kind of build he’d bought with expensive personal training sessions at the local health club. His body was built by honest, hard work. Jem let her eyes drop to his lean hips and then slightly lower. Her eyes got wide at the sight of his jutting arousal, lingering before returning to his face. A smile played on her lips as she cocked her head to the side, putting most of her weight on her right hip.

  “Oh, my! I’m afraid Mason might never excel in weights and measures. He clearly underestimated when he demonstrated the size of you.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Why are you standing so far away?” Jem asked, crooking her finger invitingly at him.

  Without pockets to shove his hands into, Jack reached for her. In two quick steps his arms wrapped around her, lifting her up against him, arranging her legs around his waist before lowering his head and probing with his tongue, seeking entry to her mouth. The skin-on-skin contact between them flamed the fire in her and she felt an answering heat in his kiss. Hearts raced strongly between their chests as he anchored her against him with his powerful arms. Another two steps got them to the bed. He lowered her to the mattress, and followed her down, settling between her thighs. Balancing on his elbows, he continued to have his way with her mouth. She knew he fought urge to cover her body with his, breast to chest, to maximize the contact of their heated skin. Her fingers speared through his soft, wavy hair, returning his wild kisses with as much frenzy as he showed. She tightened her arms around his neck and tugged him down against her, frustrated by his distance. But he pushed away from her even more, locking his elbows in resistance.

  “I want to hold you close, but I’m afraid of crowding you,” he murmured in her ear, nipping at the fleshy part of the lobe.

  She opened her eyes and sighed. He was worried about her claustrophobia, when all she think of how much she wanted him to bury himself deep within her. “Jack, please. Get your chest down here to mine.”

  “I want to Jem, I honestly do. But I don’t want you to be anxious,” he said, looking seriously into her eyes, then groaned when he glanced down at what he was denying himself. “I can maintain a bit of distance from you, if it helps.”

  “Damn it, that’s not what I want. I’ll tell you, honest to God, if I need space. I promise to be so distracted by the wonderful things you’re doing that my claustrophobia will cease to exist. I don’t want you thinking about it, either.” She rocked her hips against him for emphasis as she ran her hands across the straining muscles in his chest.

  As he continued to resist, she trailed her hands to his elbows and took him by surprise when she pushed against them. As he fell on top of her, she grasped his head between her fingers and met his lips, moaning as his chest finally pressed against hers. He still tried to keep his full weight off her and she locked one leg around his hips to hold him in place. Pressing upward, she deepened the kiss, her hands roaming his strong back, down to his hips and over his buttocks. She smiled and moaned when he surrendered and gave her his full weight.

  He slid down her body, claiming her breasts with his mouth and hands, drawing one nipple into his mouth and laving his tongue across the sensitive bud as his thumb mimicked the sensation on her other breast. She breathed his name against the top of his head. Each pass of his warm tongue sent shivers of desire straight to the sweet spot between her legs, pushing her closer to heavenly delirium. She gave herself over to the sensation of his hands, tongue and body, basking in the feel of his hard erection against her soft thigh, floating on a cloud of desire.

  “Oh, Jack. Now, please, I need you inside me now. Please,” she practically sobbed her plea.

  “Sugar, I need that, too,” Jack said, pulling away and getting off the narrow bed. “Need a condom. Be right back.”

  Within seconds, he was kneeling between her legs, kissing his way up her body, lingering again on her tattoo, before pressing kisses on the sensitive flesh from her hip to her collarbone, giving her his weight a little at a time as he progressed upward. Until he finally lay on top of her, pushing his way inside her.

  Chapter 16

  The sensation of sliding deeply within her, watching her eyes glaze with passion, was overwhelming. Clenching his teeth hard, Jack fought to stay in control when he needed to thrust into her until they both reached release. He kept his eyes open and on hers as he began a slow, sensuous ride, in and out of her body. Each time he pulled back, he sipped at her mouth, pulling with his teeth and lips, until he surged forward again.

  Jem made quiet, mewling sounds, panting her pleasure, chasing his hips as he drove her crazy. He felt her losing control, her body humming as he pushed her closer and closer. He pulled back, almost out of her body, before releasing her lips and bringing his hands to the sides of her head, holding her still as he pushed back into her, then deeper, and watched her shatter.

  He felt wave after wave of her release rolling through her, the pleasure so intense he cried out as she pushed against him, trying to get closer, to prolong the ecstasy washing over her. Her eyes fluttered close as she continued to shiver in his arms.

  Caressing her mouth with his gently as she calmed, he thrust deeply again, basking in the reaction of her body. He continued to move until she moaned his name and then he exploded in her, groaning when he realized Jem was convulsing around him again. Her mouth was round with surprise, as she shook apart a second time along with him.

  Floating back to reality was a deliciously slow process, her quivering need punctuating the journey. He bucked against her, the motion drawing quiet gasps from her. He knew he should move; he had to be crushing her with his weight as they clung together. But he couldn’t. The best he could do was push up on one elbow, partially lifting his upper body from hers. This small motion nudged his hips closer against her and she moaned and shuddered. Her breath came hard and fast, but he was sure the reaction was due to what they’d just shared, not from claustrophobia.

  “Oh, sweet heaven. Oh, my God,” Jem exhaled hard as Jack lowered his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “Oh, God, how soon do you think we can do that again?”

  “Does that happen often for you? The multiple thing, I mean,” he questioned, pulling back to look in her eyes.

  “Not ever before,” she gasped, struggling to regulate her breathing. “But, I hope again soon.”

  His chest inflated proudly. “So, it’s me.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Jem smiled suggestively as she wiggled her hips beneath him, making him gasp.

  He laughed before pulling out of her and rolling away to give her space. Reaching across her, he grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and stripped off the used condom. She moaned when he kissed his way back across her breasts, dropping the small wad over the side of the bed before he lay on his side. With his back against the wall, his head propped on one elbow, he looked at her. Her sensitive flesh jumped and quivered as he ran one fingertip down her breastbone to her navel and back. She closed her eyes, drew a deep, contented breath and e
xhaled slowly.

  Jack couldn’t help himself. Encouraged by her smile, he continued to touch her, running his hand along her body, stopping on her breast to squeeze it, gently teasing her nipple, enjoying the shivers his small action drew from her. He was careful to make his hand their only touch point, mindful of her need for space. But even that limited contact drove him insane. Physiologically, he knew it should be impossible, but proof was evident in his body. He wanted her again. Right now.

  As he started to draw his hand away, Jem’s came up to hold it. “No, don’t stop. I want you to keep touching me.” She turned her head and smiled into his eyes, issuing an irresistible invitation for him to kiss her. He lowered his lips to hers. He kept the kiss gentle, but loaded it with passion.

  He reluctantly pulled his head away and smiled back at her as he traced the tattoo.

  “How long have you had this?” he asked, adjusting his head on his hand, getting more comfortable.

  “Eight years. I was a freshman in college.” Jem settled more comfortably on the pillow and trailed her hand toward his, tangling their fingers together. “One night, a group of girls on my floor decided to get tattoos. Our parents would have tried to talk us out of it, but once you’re eighteen, you get to make decisions for yourself. Six of us agreed to do it, but only two of us didn’t chicken out once we got to the tattoo parlor.”

  “Was this just a drunken escapade that you’re sorry about now?” he asked, curious about the decisions Jem, the young adult, had made.

  “I was the only sober one in the group.” She laughed. “Even in college, I didn’t drink much.” Jack smiled, remembering the night she’d triggered the alarm and the entire bottle of wine she’d consumed, completely alone. She stared toward the ceiling. “By the time we talked to the artist, I decided to get something to honor Peter.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Yeah. After his death, I wanted something to remember him by. So I waited until my parents couldn’t object and got this.” She moved her hand up his arm. “It’s a Celtic warrior ring, representing endurance and the circle of life. Especially appropriate because he died for an environmental cause.” She sighed. “Can we be done talking about this now?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I was just curious about it. I think it’s great that you want to honor your brother’s memory. Have you told your parents about it?”

  Jem laughed, her fingers sensuously tracing the muscle in his forearm. “No, I haven’t mentioned it to them. They wouldn’t understand or approve. I used to think I might have been able to convince my mom to get a matching tattoo. She’s cool that way. But I gave the idea up when she refused to even utter Peter’s name.”

  “So, what would you prefer to talk about?” He stretched his arm and curled it over her pillow, toying with her luscious curls.

  She turned back to face him as he laid his head on his biceps and smiled. She shifted, angling her upper body slightly away, but throwing her legs over his, until he cradled her in the curve of his body, nudging his erection.

  “Maybe we could discuss the other positions we could try tonight. I’m sure you mentioned something about me on top. But I think I like this position, too.” Smiling seductively, she wiggled against him, an obvious invitation he chose not to ignore. He grinned at her as he leaned forward for another lengthy kiss.

  * * * *

  At shortly after two in the morning, Jack stirred to life and watched Jem sleep fitfully.

  She was so beautiful, so giving, so enthusiastic about making love to him. He had made her come twice, again. After which, she immediately, and understandably, fell into an exhausted sleep with a gentle, sated smile on her face. He thought about her as he drifted, waiting for sleep to come. He smiled ruefully in the soft light from the bedside lamp about the role reversal they seemed to experience. It was definitely not the norm to have the woman drop off to sleep, leaving the man lying awake, reliving the experience. But everything about Jem was unexpected, delightful.

  He loved how she acted with his niece and nephew. Seeing her wide smile, watching her with his sister’s children, moved him in ways he wasn’t sure he understood. It didn’t take much to go from seeing her dancing and holding Mason’s small body, to imagining her cradling a baby of her own. Of his. Thinking of Jem as the mother of his children should be freaking him out, but the sense of joy and rightness flowing through him smashed any qualms.

  He already looked forward to the next time he could wrap his arms around her and watch her break apart. Hell, there was no doubt about it. He’d lost his heart to her. He loved her laugh, her witty sense of humor, her passion for this new career she had chosen, her bravery in facing what could be a crippling phobia. Jesus Christ, he was falling in love her. When the hell had that happened?

  He’d find a way to make this funny, sweet, beautiful woman his.

  He had been careful even as he dozed to avoid crowding her in the narrow bed they shared. It was hard, considering how much he wanted to hold her close. He settled for holding her hand in his as she slept. He clasped her left hand tightly in his, resting on the mattress between them. Now, he gently untangled his fingers from hers, causing her to stir, her eyes flashing open. Recognition dawned in her eyes and she smiled up at him.

  “I have to go,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

  “Can’t you stay?” she murmured sleepily, an inviting smile curling her soft lips.

  “I have to get home and let Clooney out. Sam walked him at eight, after his meeting, but I bet he needs to go out again. I’m sorry. I’d stay if I could,” Jack said, regret thick in his voice.

  “Next time, bring him with you. I’d love it if you would stay the night. Okay?”

  He answered her with a sweet, promising kiss before climbing away from her and out of the bed. He found his jeans and shirt and pulled them on quickly, trying to disturb her as little as possible. She rolled to her side, watching him get dressed. He returned to sit on the side of the bed to pull on his socks and shoes. She capitalized on the opportunity to run her hand up his spine, distracting him and making him lean down to her for another kiss.

  “I think we’re going to need a bigger bed, sugar. I plan to spend a lot of time with you in it. Although, we could try other places. Like the kitchen table. Or the sofa. Or whatever happens to be convenient. Maybe I’ll even make love to you in the pantry, see if we eliminate your fear of small spaces.”

  At her sharply indrawn breath, he laughed. “You just stay there and think about that. I’ll let myself out.”

  “Thanks a lot. Rev me up and then just leave me,” Jem complained, but laughed as she did it.

  Jack heard her sweet laughter as he closed her front door behind him.

  Chapter 17

  Jem woke with a smile on her lips. She’d lain in her narrow bed, missing Jack, wishing he hadn’t left. Her stomach jumped giddily as she relived her night with him. She didn’t realize, how late it was until she’d heard the noise of the workers arriving downstairs and looked at the clock. She’d put on a pot of coffee, skipped her daily yoga routine, and jumped in the shower.

  By the time she pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, she knew she’d have to let Dave Saunders know lunch would be late. The workers had come to rely on her for this daily meal, had stopped bringing their own food. The only reason they carried their lunch pails now was in hopes of having leftovers to take home for dinner. She’d gone down to the café with coffee and the rest of the apple coffeecake she’d baked yesterday to let him know.

  So she wasn’t too surprised to answer the door and discover Avery standing there, looking every day of his mere seventeen years. God, he was too young, still a baby himself. And he was going to have a baby. Sometimes, life just landed a sucker punch.

  Jack had given the boy a job to help him out. There wasn’t as much to do on a small job like hers—not enough to employ a general laborer every day. Since he came up to help her bring lunch down daily, she found herself talking to him abou
t a variety of things. He was an intelligent, respectful young man, not so young really, just ten years her junior. But he was more grown up than she had been at his age.

  “Hey, Ms. George. Dave sent me up to see if I could help you this morning. There isn’t much going on the job today. I guess it’s his way of keeping me busy.” Avery shrugged, a typical teen.

  “I won’t tell you no. Come on in.” Jem stepped aside, waving him in. “How’s Marissa?”

  The youth shrugged again. “Okay, I guess. Uncomfortable, you know? She’s getting big.”

  “Have you found a place to live yet? Jack told me you’ve been looking.”

  “Nah.” Avery glanced around the apartment. “A place like this would be great. We need a room for the baby. Two-bedroom places aren’t cheap.”

  “You know, it’s a courageous thing you’re doing, standing by Marissa. And scary, too.” And very adult. “You guys made a mistake, and you’ve stepped up to accept the consequences. I admire you.”

  Avery blushed and shifted his feet, changing the subject. “What do you need me to do to help you?”

  “So is this the part of your job description that reads other duties as assigned?” Jem smiled at Avery, receiving a quick grin in return. “Do you know your way around a kitchen?”

  “I used to help my mom fix dinner, and bake and shit, um… I mean, stuff. Sorry.”

  “Crap! I’ve never heard that word before,” she gently teased, letting him know she wasn’t offended. “Let me go grab my dictionary. Can you spell it?”

  His short bark of laughter told her she’d handled the situation correctly. She pointed toward the kitchen and followed him. When she stopped to grab a laundry basket with stacks of dish towels she’d folded, he turned to take the basket out of her hands without a word, then continued into the sunny kitchen. In that instant, she stopped thinking about him as a teen or young man. She stared after him, idly thinking his parents would be proud of him, if they bothered to care. She sighed. It took too much effort to be mad at the adults who let stupidity interfere with their relationship with their only son.