True Divide (22 page)

“Did you do this on purpose? Book a room at the Bates Motel so you could just sit back and enjoy the show?”

Jake gives in and laughs, head tossed back and shoulders quaking under the loud sound of him letting his amusement loose into this god-awful room. Finally, he takes a breath to compose himself and cups my face in his hands.

“Fuck, no. I mean, your expression is priceless, but I prefer to make you happy if at all possible.” A small kiss comes to my forehead. “Think of it this way: what a great story, right? Someday, a long time from now, we'll be able to regale a crowd with this story. The time we went to Orcas and Princess Lacey had to sleep in a motel room that rents by the hour.”

My jaw drops open. “Really? This place rents by the hour?” I throw up my hands. “I'm not staying—”

Jake covers my mouth with his and renders me speechless for long enough to tame my urge to punch his sexy abs a few times. Pulling back, he lets his lips continue to graze mine and whispers, “I'm just kidding about the hourly thing. Still, it's a good story we'll have to tell.”

I nearly think he might keep going and say something more emotionally charged. A story to tell our kids. Or grandkids. The ones that wouldn't make him the least bit nervous. But he doesn't. He simply starts to kiss me again, softly and tenderly, until my knees turn mushy and it seems perfectly appropriate to strip down in this atrocious room and let him tell me how the story ends.

Never have I been so thrilled to wake up at five a.m. I was awake most of the night, convinced there was something crawling on me. The exposed skin on my legs and arms itched in the cute little silk sleep set I brought along, from what I was convinced were bedbugs and scabies attacking me. Jake slept like a brown bear in hibernation. Nothing but deep breathing and heavy sighs from that side of the bed, while I stared at the ceiling and tried to imagine a soothing field of wildflowers in my head.

When the alarm goes off, I sit straight up and toss the covers off, then skip over to grab my clothes out of the overnight bag. No shower, no way. I brushed my teeth in the bathroom last night and peeked around the shower curtain as I did, only to find a charcoal-gray ring in the bathtub that I refuse to let my feet come in contact with. I'm dressed and waiting near the door before Jake even has a chance to stand up.

I throw the door open and a gust of cold air comes in. Jake gripes from behind me.

“Hey. Still half-naked over here. Shut the goddam door, at least until I get my pants on.”

Instead of obliging him, I swing the door wider and then wave it back and forth to encourage in a bit more cold air. Standing in the middle of the room in only a pair of boxer briefs, Jake slips a shirt over his shoulders, and when his head pops out, he shakes it.

“Don't push your luck, Lacey. Remember, you're mine once we get in the air. Oops, turbulence. Oops, rough landing.”

“I'm not an airplane virgin anymore. I can handle anything.”

Jake stops and gives me a sleepy smile. “You have no idea how fucking sexy that sounds to me.” Slipping his pants on, he secures his belt with a little clink. “Want me to show you a little more today? If you're ready for it, I'll give you the nonvirgin package on the way home.”

Heck, yes. Whether it's the lack of sleep, the desire to be anywhere but in this room, or just the appeal of Jake saying he wants to give me more, I'm all in. With a head nod, I offer him a little grin.

“Bring it on.”

We land back at Trevor and Kate's in the late afternoon, then drive home so we can spend one more night together before Jake takes off again tomorrow. Somehow, the hours we cobble together to be in the same room always seem unnaturally short. Time moves too fast, no matter how hard I try to slow it down.

At home, I hastily unpack my things from the overnight bag and then scuttle down the stairs to see if we can rummage up something to eat for dinner. Jake is upstairs, whistling to himself as he usually does. His feet moving across to the bedroom, then down the hallway sound above me, following the creak of the closet doors opening and sliding along the track. In a house this old, nearly no movement goes unnoticed, and over the years, I've grown used to the lack of movement around me, excepted only by Stanley creeping around on occasion. Now, after just a few days of Jake in this space, I've started to crane toward every creak and groan when he isn't here, hoping it might be him instead of the wind moving the house on its joists.

In the kitchen, I settle on a frozen pizza. Just as I turn the dial on the oven to preheat it, Jake calls down from the top of the stairs.

“Where does this bag go? I got my stuff out of it. I'll put it away.”

The oven clicks on. I step just into the hallway to answer him. “In my old room. Just stick it up on the shelf in the closet. Anywhere is fine.”

A few minutes later, the oven beeps just as I shut the freezer door and with the pizza box in my hand, I find Jake standing there with an odd expression on his face. Something like amusement, combined with restraint.

“Care to explain this?” He thrusts his arm out, which he was previously obscuring behind his back, and dangling from the hanger in his hand is my old high school cheerleading uniform. Red and white, with the letters CHS emblazoned on the uniform top, and a perfectly pleated skirt to match, all sheathed in a clear dry cleaning bag as it has been for the last ten years or so.

Jakes eyes widen as he waits for my answer.

“Explain what? It's my old cheerleading uniform. Obviously.”

I step away to open the oven door and then pretend to read the directions on the back of the pizza box. The dry cleaning bag makes a rustling sound. When I take a quick glance over my shoulder, Jake is shoving the uniform toward me, pushing his arm out until it is entirely outstretched, elbow locked, and then shaking the bag again.

“Put it on.”

A quick chuckle leaves my gaping mouth. “Excuse me?”

He takes a step forward. “Now. Go put it on so I can finally live out one of my teenage fantasies. I want to fuck you in it. You never let me do anything but get up under the top a little. ‘Can't get it dirty.' ‘Coach would kill me if it got damaged.' ‘I represent the school when I'm wearing it.' Blah, blah, blah. Put. It. On.”

The tone of his voice indicates this isn't up for discussion, and in the glow of that directive and the heat from the open oven door I'm standing in front of, I feel a tiny bit like a fainting spell is only seconds away. Jake steps closer and grabs the pizza box from my hands, tossing it onto the countertop while kicking the oven door closed with his foot. Once my hands are empty, he shoves the uniform into my chest and presses until I grab it with my own hands.

Stepping away, Jake's gaze turns mischievous when he sees that I'm clearly feeling a little jumpy and flustered. I can't decide if I'm turned on or not. Is the fact I can't breathe a good sign or what? No idea.

What I do know is that Jake is definitely turned on, no question, because the glint in his eyes only momentarily distracts from the way he just pointedly slid his hand along the front of his jeans and then gritted his teeth a little. And Jake getting hot about something usually only leads to the same reaction in me. It's a side effect I can't seem to control. When he goes out of his mind, it sufficiently drives me there with him.

In a near whisper, I muster the few protests I can think of.

“Jake, come on, it probably doesn't even fit anymore.”

He stops and narrows his eyes for a moment, seeming to consider my argument. Then he shakes his head slowly, a grin curving slightly across his lips.

“It's totally going to fit. And those curves are going to make it even better.”

With that, he begins urging me out of the kitchen. When we arrive in the entryway, I stop and lean against the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. Jake comes to stand behind me, the length of his body pressed against mine, nestling his mouth right next to my ear.

“No bra, nothing underneath. Got it?”

He doesn't give me a chance to answer or respond, simply smacks my ass and then bites down gently on one of my earlobes. When I start up the stairs, I realize exactly how turned on I am. Quaking and short of breath, no question, my body has already decided this is a perfectly sensible idea.

Small favors, but the uniform does still fit. The skirt sits a few inches higher than it used to, but it zips, thank God. Riding at the smallest part of my waist, but flaring provocatively from my hips, the new fit only means I'm showing a bit more leg than I previously did. Wild guess, but I'm thinking Jake won't mind. Before, it would hang a few inches below my belly button, still loose even then. Standing here in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, I consider doing my hair up the way I used to—a perfectly curled ponytail with a matching red ribbon—but decide that might be taking this whole thing a little too far.

I step out of the bedroom and come to stand at the top of the stairs, taking a quick breath in before descending, expecting that I'll find Jake in the living room waiting for me. Instead, he's standing near the front door, flipping my key chain around in his hand.

“Hey there, pretty girl.”

I want to, simultaneously, leap toward him and bolt from the room. Whatever he has in mind, I'm about to get wrecked alive, and I shouldn't like the idea as much as I do. Unfortunately, my body doesn't quite understand why my brain insists on hesitating. Jake steps a bit closer, then pauses and gestures me forward with a curl of his index finger.

“I was right, huh? It fits.”

“Which is good for you. Because if it didn't, me wailing on the floor while eating an entire of quart of ice cream to drown my sorrows would have been your fault.”

When I stop in front of him, his hands immediately come under the skirt and stroke across the backs of my thighs until one of his hands finds my bare ass. A grunt leaves him, followed by his mouth finding the skin on my neck.

“You look so fucking hot right now. I knew you would.”

A wild thrill surges through me. The kick of looking, feeling, being exactly what he expected. Maybe more. With his hands on my skin, I only see one thing happening in the next few minutes. A scenario involving the back of the door again, or maybe the floor.

The key chain jangles in one hand and the one on my ass lands a smack there. “Let's go. I've got a plan.”

I lean back from him and point toward the door. “ ‘Let's go'? As in let's go
outside
?”

Jake opens the door and stands there, making an ushering gesture with his arm to urge me forward. I shake my head. “I cannot go outside dressed like this. It's winter. I'm twenty-nine years old. People will think I've lost my mind.”

Grabbing a knee-length coat from the closet, Jake laughs and tosses it at me, then starts down the sidewalk. “This is me nudging you out of your comfort zone, Shoelace. Have I ever done that without it paying off in the end?”

I consider the question. But when Jake turns back and grins, I know the answer. Dammit.