More Than This
Page 47

   They’re sitting at the dining table, munching, when Kayla walks in wearing her pajamas, which are tiny boy shorts and an ever tinier tank. She’s not wearing a bra. Her eyes are still half-shut, and her hair is all over the place. She’s mumbling something under her breath as she shuffles over to the coffeepot. She pours herself a cup and lazily walks over to me. She leans the front of her body against mine and reaches up to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m cold,” she murmurs, still half-asleep.
   “Uh-huh,” I say, rubbing my hands up and down her arms and glaring at the guys over her shoulder. “Maybe you should put more clothes on, Kayla.” It sounds like a request.
   “Nope,” one of the guys says. “She looks fine just the way she is.”
   Kayla squeals and tenses in my arms. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. She moves my body to cover hers, but first she pinches my nipple and twists it, which really hurts. “Jake, I hate you! Why didn’t you warn me that people were here?” She holds me like a shield as she walks back into her room. Once she’s in, she pushes me out the door then slams it shut.
   “Lucky bastard gets to wake up to that every morning,” one of them says.
   “Asshole,” someone agrees.
   I smile to myself and pick up her coffee. I knock on her door, and she opens it slightly, face flushed from embarrassment. I hand her the coffee and kiss her on the cheek. “You look beautiful this morning.”
 
 
THIRTY-EIGHT
JAKE
       I hear the front door open and slam then a squeal of frustration. I rush out of the study and run to the entryway. Kayla is standing there, drenched from head to toe and covered in mud.
           “It’s storming outside! What are you doing?” I almost yell at her, like she’s a disobedient child.
   “I had to get home from work! This car drove past me when I was walking from the bus stop and splashed all this water and mud on me. Then a dog ran after me, and I got scared and hid in some bushes, which landed me in more fucking mud.”
   “Where the hell was your phone? You should have called me!”
   “It’s dead!”
   I roll my eyes. It’s always dead.
   She starts to move away from the front door, but I stop her. “What are you doing? You can’t walk through the house like that. You’ll get mud everywhere!” But I’m laughing now, because she looks so frickin’ grumpy and adorable.
   “Jake.” She says my name like an annoyed moan. “What do you want me to do? Strip outside and walk through the house in my underwear?”
   I raise my eyebrows at her.
   “Don’t be an idiot,” she says. “What should I do?”
   “Wait here,” I tell her and run to the bathroom to turn the shower on. I make sure the temperature is just right before I go back and throw her over my shoulder. She squeals in surprise. When we get to the bathroom, she shifts like I’m going to put her down, but instead I stand her up in the shower—fully clothed, shoes and all. She screams while I laugh.
   Then she has my shirt in her hands and pulls me in with her. She laughs while I scream—a manly one, though. I’m not a fucking pussy.
   Then we’re both laughing. And I realize it’s been a long time since we both laughed like this. We look at each other. She breaks the stare by throwing her head under the shower spray. She tilts her head back, and the water streams over her face and down her hair. Her lips are partially parted.
   We’re in a confined space with nowhere to move. We’re both soaking wet, and she’s so fucking hot. I try to clean out some of the mud from her hair. Her breath catches when she feels my hands on her. We’re facing each other under the water, her body pulled into mine, because the space in the shower gives us no other option.
   Then she peels off her dress. She’s in a bra and panties, and that’s all. “Dirty dress,” she says and shrugs by way of explanation, throwing the dress out of the shower onto the bathroom floor.
   I clear my throat and try not to look at her tits.
   Or her legs.
   I try to keep my hands at my side so I don’t touch her—balled into fists so I’m not tempted.
   “You’re all dirty, too,” she says, pointing at my clothes.
   I look down and see mud on my T-shirt and shorts from carrying her in here. I take them off and stand under the water in my boxers. She can see I’m hard but tries to play it cool. I see her chest rising and falling with her breaths, and I know she’s as turned on as I am right now. We’re testing each other and seeing how far we can take this before someone snaps—most likely my dick. I’m not going to crack, though. I need to make sure that if I touch her, she’s going to want it. I don’t know what the hell she wants. She’s only made clear that she’s leaving. So I stand there, eyes on her, not moving.
   She turns around to face the stream of water and starts to wash herself. I study her back unabashedly, because she can’t see me. My fingers are itching to touch her. I close my eyes tightly. I make a sound, but I can’t tell you what kind. I imagine my pushing her against the tiles, ripping her panties off, and being inside her. I imagine the noises she would make, and I swear I almost come.
   This is bad—really fucking bad.
   When I open my eyes, she’s facing me. She takes her bra off, and my eyes are glued to her tits like I’m ten and this is my first titty mag. She brushes her palm against the head of my dick lightly, but I feel it—my dick feels it—and it jerks under her touch. I almost pull back, but she does first. She turns the hot water off, and cold water fills the shower. I yelp under my breath and jump out of the stream.
   “You need a cold shower, Jake.” She gets out, grabs a towel, and leaves the bathroom.
 
   By the time I’m done, she’s dressed and on the sofa, ordering food and looking through DVDs to watch.
   She hears me walk in. “Hey,” she says almost shyly. “I ordered Chinese. Is that okay?” She wants to act like nothing happened. Fine.
   “Um, yeah. I’m actually heading out now, though.” Lie.
   “Oh?” she says, surprised and a little confused.
   “Yeah, uh . . . I have a date.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
   Her face falls. She looks away, but I can see her swallow and wipe her face quickly.
   I run to her so fast, I almost trip over myself. I squat in front of her. “Kayla, I was just fucking around. I’m not going out on a date or anything. I was being a dick. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” I try to wipe her tears, but she swats my hands away.
   “You’re an asshole,” she says through a sob.