I set my purse and keys on the counter and plugged in my phone, turning to him. He tilted his head in a welcoming way. "Let's get the chlorine off."
Ooh. Bath time with Jake.
Holding my hand, he walked down the hall, turning the lights off as we walked, and setting my pajamas in his room.
We stepped into his clean but austere bathroom, and slipped off our wet bathing suits, putting them in the sink. He turned on the shower to warm it up.
And then we were on each other again, but this time with more passion than the slow, sensual lovemaking in the hot tub.
No chance of anyone watching us this time, my hands grabbed his ass and pressed him to me, feeling his muscles, making him start to grow hard again. He reciprocated, taking his big hands up my belly to my breasts, covering one entirely with his hand, palming it, then running his long fingers over my nipples, fondling them, one then the other.
So the thing about sex with Jake. While he was no alpha hero of my books, ordering me around and being all bossy, it was really freaking great to do it with him. He lavished attention on me, his artist's fingers playing my skin, whether gentle, soft touches, or a fierce and fiery clasp. For the most part, he communicated well, which was interesting, given our first terrible misunderstandings with each other. In bed, there was no separation. No door between us, no wall separating us. He let me in. He asked me what I wanted and gave it to me. And he let me know what he wanted. So incredibly healthy.
It was also hot.
The shower warmed, we stepped in, the water a momentary shock to our systems, and we took turns lathering each other up, washing off the chlorine from the hot tub. I ran my soapy hands all over him, feeling his body, enjoying it as the shower sprayed into his chest, his upper back. Then, of course, the shower got steamier, as I ran my soapy hands up and down his hard cock, and he reciprocated on my body, slipping first a finger between my legs, and then two.
"You're good for round two?" I asked.
"Yeah. You?"
I nodded. "Let's get out of the shower. There's a drought, you know."
"A lot of good things get created in water."
But still he turned off the shower, grabbed me a towel, and started drying me off, but didn't finish. He hoisted me up so that I was straddling him, and carried me to his bedroom, still wet.
We smelled the same, like clean shower. He laid me down gently on the bed and lowered his body on me, kissing me with the same passion as before, body to body. Rolling so that I was on top of him, straddling him, he pulled my hips toward his head.
"What are you doing?" I gasped.
"This," he answered, and he wiggled under me and started licking my pussy in earnest.
Oh my.
I'd never done oral sex before in this position, basically sitting on his face, and it was really fucking hot.
While I hadn't had sex in the time between Carlos and Jake, well, I'd done other stuff. But not this.
I reached behind me and angled back, stroking his cock as he licked and sucked my clit, using his hand to assist. He kept going, and going, and then I knew that I was going to come and I gulped, "Oh my loiuhggyrdd." My body, tender from his ministrations in the shower and primed from the hot tub, exploded again.
Straddling his face.
So naughty.
So hot.
When I came down, he pulled out from under me almost like a car mechanic, and then flipped me on my back. In a second, he slid his cock into my primed pussy.
Now, at this moment, immediately post-orgasm, my body barely done shaking and shivering, I entered a place of kairos again. I lost all track of time, and I lost any rational thought. All I did was feel, and I felt the connection with Jake, both physical with his body, but also the way he looked me in the eyes as he thrust, willing me to accept him, showing me the parts of him that he didn't show to anyone else. It was also this period of synergy-being connected together, we were creating something new, bigger than us. Like his drawing or my writing, the creative process and sex were similar. One person taking energy and applying it to something else and making something new, without thinking, only feeling. I knew that we were creating something here, which was beautiful.
Looking at me the entire time, he thrust into me repeatedly, until, with a shuddering jerk, he rammed into me harder than he'd ever done before. It didn't hurt, it just felt like he meant it, like he released, with a groan, all of the tension in him. Collapsing on my body, he nuzzled my shoulder and kissed it.
After a moment, he lifted himself up onto his elbows, and then gently slid out of me. He padded down the hall, got more towels, and gave me one to finish drying off.
Then he tugged on his boxers, and I put on my pajamas, and I crawled into bed, sated, clean-smelling, and happy. He got in bed behind me, spooning me, kissing my shoulder, and I drifted into a restful sleep.
Okay.
I liked this.
I really, really liked this.
Waking up in the arms of a warm, sleepy guy? The way his strong thighs felt, curled into mine? His toned arm across my waist? His face nestled in my hair?
I had all of the good things, all at once-cocooned in a fluffy, supportive pillow of comfort. When I thought the word pillow my mind started free-associating-it was like marshmallow sweetness, hot fudge sundae goodness, and a warm summer breeze that made you feel simultaneously alive and at peace. Above all, I felt safe in his arms, as if nothing could go wrong, as if I were finally at home.
Yeah, I was totally falling in love with him.
This damaged, complicated man. Protective of me, attentive, caring. And the way he embraced the fact that I had a son? Amen and hallelujah. His artistic talent, his nobility. And the practical stuff, too-he was pleasant to be around, chatty, helpful. He didn't snore. He didn't kick. He just peacefully slept, holding me.
Love.
I was totally in trouble.
Because I coughed, leftover from my illness, I woke him up. He squeezed me, holding me closer, and muttered "Morning," into my hair. I flopped over to look at him, and brought my hand up to run my fingers along his morning stubble.
After a moment of leaning into my hand, he spoke.
"You are so stunning, first thing," he started. "And all day."
I turned my head away.
"No, really. No makeup. This nose." He kissed it then shook his head. "I'm just grateful. You in my bed? It's amazing." He paused. His eyes darting around my face. "I was thinking, do you want to go look at my house? See the progress on construction?"
Again, being invited into his world. Cool. "Yeah, I'd like that, but we have to be back before it's time to pick up Rob."
"We can take him with." Even better.
"You're not going to work?" I asked, and then immediately regretted it, because he stiffened.
"Shit."
"Does that mean cancel?"
"No. That means we do not cancel. But yeah, I will have to get to work."
I wiggled a little closer to him. "Do you ever think about what it would be like if you didn't work at your firm? I mean, what would you do if you didn't work these long hours?"
"Probably work for legal aid. Help poor people who can't afford it and need justice."
The part of him that wasn't an artist really was Atticus Finch.
"Why don't you do that now? Do you need the money?"
He looked at me. "The remodel is expensive, yeah, but I have money saved. I don't spend that much. And I work hard so I make a lot."
"I don't mean to pry."
Hand on mine. Eyes on mine. "Lucy. It's okay. I don't need the money. I'm good."
"So yes, you could do that now," I pressed.
He gave me a half smile. "Maybe."
"If that happened, you'd have to totally change your thinking about all this stuff, huh? That you don't have to always go into the office? That you could work part time? It might take some effort, but I think if we worked on it-"
"I'm gonna shut you up by kissing you," he said, and he did.
I knew that he liked to change the subject when he didn't want to answer a question. But eventually, we were going to get to a place where we could talk about it. Work on it. Make his life more balanced. I just knew it.
Jake ended up taking the whole morning off, spending it by first exploring my body in the most naked way possible. We then picked up Rob, who'd had a good time at his dad's house. He loved the Christmas presents from his dad and that side of the family. I couldn't decide if I was pissed they were trying to buy my son or grateful they were showering him with gifts. I decided to be grateful.
But then I looked at the presents. Carlos had given him a complete set of Minecraft gamer books. If that wasn't perfect for my son, I didn't know what was. And it made me wonder if Carlos really did want to be more of a father to Rob. I watched my son stick his nose in the first book in the series immediately, as we drove away from his dad's house.
Then Jake drove us to his house located by Santa Barbara City College, on the hill with a view of the ocean. Spanish-style like everything in Santa Barbara, the work would update it to be environmentally-friendly, but sensitive to the original design.