“Shame I didn’t know how you felt back then.” Jake’s face relaxes into a sexy grin. “Just imagine all the things we could have gotten up to in your bedroom instead of doing our homework.”
My eyebrow lifts, and my panties nearly drop of their own accord.
“Still here,” Stuart says, cutting into the spell Jake’s put me under. “And I’m suffering from a long dry spell, so please cut out the sex talk. Right, let’s get to the important matter,” Stuart adds, rubbing his hands together. “One of you give me my gift already. I’m dying here!”
“Gift?” I give Stuart a puzzled look, then direct one to Jake, who shrugs. He’s in on my little bit. “We were supposed to get you a gift?”
I start to pour tea from the pot into three waiting cups, suppressing a smile.
“Don’t f**k around. Come on, duty-free purchases are part of my contract. Gimme.” He proffers his hand, curling his fingers up in an impatient gesture.
I put down the teapot. Holding a steady face, I bite my lip for effect. “I’m really sorry, Stuart. I didn’t realise we were supposed to get you anything.”
I see the light disappear in his eyes. His face drops. “Oh, it’s okay, honey, don’t worry…”
“I mean, I didn’t realise gifts were part of your contract, so I guess it’s a good job I got you these Oliver Peoples aviators,” I say, reaching over and pulling them from out of my jacket pocket.
Stuart’s been hankering after a pair of these but they’ve been sold out everywhere—I didn’t even know sunglasses could sell out—so I asked Jake to pull some strings and get a pair directly from the designer. Which, of course, he did. The perks of being Jake. They were waiting at LAX for me to pick up.
“Holy f**k!” Stuart says. “How did you…? Never mind. These are so totally f**king awesome! You are so totally f**king awesome!”
He picks me up and spins me around, then sets me back on my feet. He takes the sunglasses from my hand and puts them on.
“How do I look?”
“You look amazing. They totally suit you. You know, with those sunglasses on, you look a bit like that model. You know the British one, David Gandy.”
“More like Gandhi,” Jake quips.
I can’t not laugh at that.
“Fuck off!” Stuart says, admiring himself in the glass of the oven door. “You’re just jealous you wouldn’t be able to carry off something so stylish.”
“Um, hottest male two thousand and twelve here, as voted by the great American public.”
“I think they were voting for the snake, not you.” Stuart smirks, inferring to the nickname for Jake’s huge…anatomy. The one he regularly uses on me.
“So anyway, chica, this David Gandy dude…is he hot?”
“Oh, so totally and completely hot.” I nod enthusiastically.
“Uhum,” Jake clears his throat loudly.
“But not as hot as you, baby.”
“Damn straight,” Jake mutters.
“On that note, I’m going to bed to spend the rest of the night looking at myself in the mirror and researching pics of this hot Gandy dude.”
Stuart picks up his tea and heads out of the kitchen with a wave of his hand. “Good to have you back,” he says to us both.
“It’s good to be back.” I half mean that. “Sleep well,” I call after him.
“You too, chica.”
“You know…” Jake says, pouring milk into the two remaining teas. He picks one up and hands it to me. “Stuart is the only man I will tolerate mauling you. And that’s only because he’s as g*y as they come.”
“Stuart doesn’t maul me.” I laugh. I take a sip of my tea, then set it down. “He’s just a tactile guy. I like tactile people,” I add, positioning myself between his legs.
“Yeah? Well, if any man ever touches you here”—he brushes his finger over my lips—“I’ll kick his ass.”
“What about here?” I point to my br**sts.
“Hospitalised for sure,” he replies, eyes now glued to my boobs.
“What about here?” I point to the V between my thighs.
“Stone-cold f**king dead. You belong to me, Tru.” He lifts my skirt and puts his hand to the very place I just pointed to. “No one touches you but me.”
He presses his fingers into my panties. Into me.
Heat consumes my body, firing through me.
He’s f**ked other women here.
I step back, letting his hand fall away.
“What’s wrong?” He looks confused.
“Nothing…” I glance around, looking for my excuse. “It’s just…Stuart might come back.”
I wonder if he’s ever had sex in the kitchen. Probably. Knowing Jake, he’ll have utilised every room in this house.
The very thought makes me want to throw up.
My fingers curl into my hand, my nails biting into my skin.
“He won’t come back.” Jake hooks his fingers into my T-shirt and reels me back in.
He starts to kiss my neck, his other hand grabbing my ass, pulling me closer to him.
Crap, he’s hard. But then, Jake’s always hard.
I close my eyes and try to get into it. The feel of him pressed up against me. His hard body. His masculine scent.
But all I can see in my mind is a preconceived image of Jake with another woman. Him doing exactly what he’s doing to me, to her, right here.