“Jake,” I moaned.
“Quiet, baby,” he whispered.
“Jake!” I gasped.
“F*ck,” he muttered before he drove his hand in my hair, fisted it, pulled it back and slammed his mouth on mine.
And when he did all this, I cried my orgasm down his throat.
He took it, kissed me after it then broke the connection of our mouths to order, “Lean back.”
I did as best I could, wrapping my fingers around the faucet and planting my hand in the counter on the other side.
Jake yanked my hips that were on the bathroom counter of my hotel room in Boston deeper into his as he kept powering into me.
I lifted my already lifted knees higher.
Jake’s eyes drifted over me and down to our connection.
“F*ck, I love watchin’ you take me,” he grunted.
I loved watching him watch himself take me. So much, I shivered.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
I clutched him tight with my sex.
His eyes came to mine.
“Beautiful,” he repeated, his voice deeper, rougher and looking into his eyes, I decided he was so…very…right.
Beautiful.
His hips powered into mine harder. “F*ckin’ beautiful.”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Come here,” he ordered.
I pushed up and wrapped my arms around him.
Jake wrapped an arm around my waist, again drove a hand in my hair, shoved my face in his throat just as it arched back, he thrust in and groaned.
I held him tight to me and traced the ridges of his throat with my tongue.
I loved the feel, the taste, but lost it when he bent his head to bury his face in my neck.
“Sucks, I gotta put you in bed and go,” he said there, his voice gruff through his still uneven breathing.
He was right
It sucked.
But it was after the concert. The Taylors and Amber were sharing one room, Conner and Ethan sharing a room with Jake, I was alone in my room at Jake’s decree for the very purpose of what we were doing in the bathroom.
A plethora of photos of the kids and Lavon as well as the rest of Bounce were all over Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. They’d had the time of their lives, been fabulously star struck, Lavon had been unbelievably lovely, we’d come back to the hotel and they were so wound up, I thought they’d never get to sleep.
They all crashed within half an hour.
That was when Jake came to me.
And now he had to leave me.
Which very much sucked.
He lifted his head and I bent mine back to catch his eyes.
“Think the kids are used to you?” he asked.
“Um…” I mumbled as an answer because I didn’t really know what he was asking.
“Babe, we find our times but I want you in my bed, as in going to sleep with you in it and wakin’ up to you in it. Heads up, tomorrow after you leave our house, I’m sittin’ the kids down and having the discussion.”
“What discussion?” I inquired, stuck on him declaring he wanted to go to sleep and wake up with me in his bed thus not following.
“The Josie’s Gonna Be Spending the Night on A Very Regular Basis Discussion.”
“Oh,” I breathed and did it wondering if I looked as delighted as I was.
His lips quirked and he noted, “See you’re down with that.”
I looked as delighted as I was and didn’t care he knew it.
“I am indeed down with that, darling,” I confirmed.
His lips stopped quirking and he smiled. Then he dipped his head to kiss me. He did this for some time, I enjoyed it immensely through this time, and he kept doing it even as he pulled out.
Then he bent deep to kiss my chest before he moved to deal with the condom.
After he was done with that, he pulled me off the counter, took my hand, tugged me into the bedroom and right to the bed. He bent beyond me to pull back the covers before he gently pressed me into it.
I had on my nightie and no undies.
I didn’t mind this.
Not at all.
I had my hands in prayer position under my cheek, watching him dress, when I asked a question I knew the answer to, “Do you think the kids enjoyed tonight?”
His head turned and his eyes caught mine. “Seriously?”
I bit my lip.
He pulled his shirt on, moved to the bed and sat on the side. Once there, he shifted my hair off my neck then leaned into his hand in the bed behind me so his face was close.
“They loved tonight, Josie,” he said quietly.
I nodded my head on the pillow.
“The whole thing. The trip down. Lobster at a fancy-assed restaurant. Cush hotel the likes none of them have ever seen and girl Taylor’s dad is pretty loaded,” he went on. “Definitely the concert and meetin’ the band.”
“I’m glad,” I whispered.
Jake’s hand moved from the bed so he could use it to cup my jaw.
When he did, I turned into it, pressing my jaw deeper into his hand.
“You mean the world to them, baby,” he whispered. “All of them. Even the Taylors.”
“They mean the world to me,” I replied.
“And you mean the world to me,” he stated.
I blinked.
Then I stared.
Then my heart stopped beating.
“Babe?” he called when I said nothing.
“You mean the world to me too,” I pushed out and when I did, it sounded husky.
“Thank f*ck,” he whispered and he meant both words, he meant them a great deal, and that meant a great deal to me. “Kiss me before I do something that does not say good dad and leave my sons alone in a hotel room in Boston all night.”
All our rooms were adjoining. Obviously, the door from my room to his room with the boys was closed, as was the door between their room and Amber and the Taylor’s, but still.
He didn’t want to leave them alone.
Such a good father.
I pushed up and put my lips to his. Then I slid my tongue in his mouth. After mere moments of me enjoying drinking from him, his arms closed around me and he drank from me.
He did it better.
Alas, some time after but still too soon, he ended the kiss, lifted his lips to kiss my nose and put me back in bed.
“See you in the mornin’, Slick.”
“See you in the morning, darling.”
Jake grinned.
I grinned back.
He bent in and kissed my jaw.
Then I watched him move to the adjoining door and through it.
I stared at the closed door long after Jake was gone thinking that I meant the world to Jake Spear.
I meant the world to him.
He told me so.
Thus, mere minutes later, I fell asleep smiling.
* * * * *
It was Sunday.
It was dark.
We were back from Boston. The Taylors had headed home. I’d hung out with Jake and the kids at his house. But now it was time to go home.
Jake was standing outside with me by my Cayenne.
I was in his arms and we were standing close.
“I’ll call you later and tell you how the talk went,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied.
“I don’t get bad vibes, you’re in my bed tomorrow night,” he declared.
This made me slightly nervous but mostly happy so I pressed closer and repeated, “Okay.”
“Okay,” he muttered then dipped his head and touched his mouth to mine. He lifted it and said quietly, “Need to get that shit done.”
“Okay, darling. I’ll talk to you later.”
He touched his mouth to mine, lifted his head again and said, “Yeah.”
I gave him a squeeze and a smile.
Jake returned the gesture.
He then opened my door for me, closed it after I climbed in and stood in the lane that led up to his house while I backed out, turned into the street and drove away.
I didn’t envy him the impending likely uncomfortable discussion with his kids. It was pretty clear they knew what was going on with their dad and I, but bringing it up, discussing it, moving it forward for them in a way that at the very least Conner and Amber would understand, would not be easy.
But I hoped it was relatively painless.
This was on my mind as I drove home.
This was still on my mind when I drove into the curve in front of Lavender House.
It was not on my mind when I saw the shiny black Mercedes parked in front of my house.
“What on earth?” I asked irately into the cab.
I saw Boston Stone move from the shadowed entry of Lavender House as I parked.
I kept my eyes glued to him as I turned off my car, threw open the door, got out, slammed the door, beeped the locks and started to stalk toward him in order to tell him precisely how I felt, not only about a visit late in a Sunday evening, but about any visit from him at all.
However, before I could say a word, I tripped over my feet, righted myself and stopped dead.
Then I went completely still.
And I did this staring at the man who followed Boston Stone from the shadows of the front door of Lavender House.
Staring unthinking but not unfeeling.
And none of the feelings I was having were even remotely good.
For the man who followed Boston Stone was the second to last man I’d ever want to see again in my life.
It was my uncle.