by E. H. Lyon
“I have a better idea,” I whisper. Taking the glass, my finger dips into the cold liquid, and then I use my finger to rub the drink on his inner wrist near his watch. Making sure he is looking at me, my eyes observe him as my tongue licks his inner pulse. His face tells me he is pleased, to which I respond by placing a soft kiss on the very same spot.
“Your mind and my mind have a lot in common.” He grins as he takes the bottle and pours a little on my neck that arches back, and I laugh. When his tongue finds my bare neck, my arms loop around him as his mouth moves to caress my bare shoulder.
A soft gentle moan escapes me. “Since our minds have so much in common, then you know what I’m thinking?” I smile as I lean back to lie down on the counter.
His sexy look gives me a warning as he pours a little from the bottle onto my bare stomach near my naval. When he sets the bottle down and his warm mouth breathes close to my stomach, he pulls my hips to the edge of the counter with his eyes blazing up at me. His fingers find the edge of my panties; I know that this man knows exactly what I am thinking.
We do not make it to the bed. Not that round, anyhow.
But when we finally decide to take a break after two rounds, I am lying in his bed with the sheet entangled around me, my hair a wild mess. The way he looks at me tells me he is enjoying the view.
“Do you want a t-shirt or something?” he asks, emerging from the bathroom after disposing of the condom.
“Oh yeah, you have that no rushing off when the sheets are warm rule. Sure.”
He tosses me an old Chicago Bears shirt that I throw on.
“Was I a little rough?” he asks with an innocent smile as he pulls on a new t-shirt.
“The claw marks on your shoulder tell me I can take it just fine,” I respond, letting my knees move side to side as I lie there lazily.
He studies me for what feels like a good minute as he leans against the dresser with his arms crossed. “Not sure why I gave you a shirt. It’s only going to come off during the night.”
I let out an enjoyable laugh as he comes and flops on the bed, lying next to me on his side, looking at me, his fingers caressing my arm that I am leaning my weight against.
The way he looks at me tells me he has something to say, and his voice is soft. “I’m really busy. I bill almost 80 hours some weeks. But you should stop by when you can while you’re in town.”
And with his eyes having a glint, I know what he means.
My bottom lip is stuck between my teeth, and then I let out a sigh. “We are two smart people. This is just fun. And we do have fun. I also need to focus on this project at work.” I study him for a clue of how I should answer. His eyes are locked on me with anticipation. “But I might be able to make an exception here or there when my work allows.”
His soft nod tells me he is satisfied. “Settled.”
An inviting smile emerges on my mouth. “Any other requests?”
His smile is flirtatious, and his other hand comes to cup the back of my neck as he brings my head closer to him so he can whisper in my ear. “I have a whole list,” he warns in a deep low voice, and it makes me grin.
I get comfortable on the pillow as he leans to the edge to look at his watch on the side table. I noticed it before. It’s classic with a brown band and silver face.
“What’s the story with the watch?”
Jake leans back in the bed and puts his arms behind his head.
“My grandfather’s. He gave it to me when I passed the bar to practice law,” he recalls.
“You’re close with him?”
“Yeah. We would always play checkers on Wednesdays, but we moved him out to Colorado to be closer to my parents after my grandma passed. He is still pretty healthy, stubborn as a goat, and chases the nurses like he’s still a teenager. But it is easier that way—being closer to my parents, I mean.”
“Sounds like he’s a cool guy.”
Maybe I feel I need to comfort him with that fact. For some reason, I grab his left wrist where he normally wears his watch and I place a soft gentle kiss on his inner pulse point. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Without thought, we find our way into each other’s arms. We don’t question it. But this seems like we are already dangerously crossing lines.
Maybe so, yet neither of us have the sense to complain.
Chapter Five
Jake
I have been to Smokey Java’s many times. Just not recently.
The place looks good since the remodel—an industrial feel with hanging jars and plants. Smooth gray floor and black steel tables and chairs. A few people are with laptops lounging at various spots with coffee, and a tourist taking a photo of her cake on a plate with a travel book in Japanese next to it. Seems like the place to be, I just missed that memo.
Avery made her message clear; she was not going to jump into drinks alone with me. But I’m going to pull an objection to that. She does not get to decide any more of our terms of departure we had in Chicago, because I had let her dictate the terms then for understandable reasons. Enough time has passed that the tables have turned, and my assertive nature has gotten stronger.
Now that I have seen her and know she is within reach, I am not going anywhere. Judging by the bolt of electricity between us when I touched her, I think it’s safe to say that there is still something there. How could there not be with our history?
It only took a few sentences with her and I already know. I know she is still a sweet and warm person, and something in me is itching to know if she is still unbelievably fun and wild when she’s with me.
There is no way in hell I am letting her slip away again. Five years can be a long time, but it also feels like I saw her just yesterday. The moment her eyes fluttered up to my gaze at Matchbox, it came back.
Everything.
The whole weekend I was going out of my damn mind, and now it’s Monday and I’m not going to wait anymore. I walk to the counter next to a glass case full of various baked goods. Cakes, cookies, brownies, everything I remember she used to bake.
“Can I help you?” the young lady with a streak of blue hair behind the counter asks.
“Yeah, uhm, a cappuccino, and maybe you can tell me if Avery is here?” It comes off casually, I hope.
“Yeah, let me check for you.” She puts my cup under the coffee machine. I give her my cash and put a tip in the tip jar as she heads off. I look around the place, studying for clues of Avery.
Vaguely, I hear the blue-haired girl say something to Avery in the back. Something along the lines of… Are you okay? That is the second batch of brownies you destroyed this morning… your mind seems a little lost today… by the way, there is an insanely hot guy here, you know, a Henry Cavill in a button-down shirt type, and he wants to see you.
Oh, so Avery’s mind is also a mess, because that woman never fails when she has a spoon in hand. Or other things in her hand…
A few seconds later, the teenage girl returns.
The kid gives me a fake smile, “Right, so Avery had to go somewhere. Something about a market, bank, or some other adulting thing to do.” The girl is mundane with her tone and seems slightly cynical towards me.
“Really?” The skepticism runs strong in my voice, and I know I have a steely look thrown on my face that has won me many cases.
“Uhh,” the girl draws out her noise.
I shake my head, and without any further thought, I walk around the display case and head to the kitchen in a strong stride.
The moment I’m in the kitchen, those beautiful blue eyes meet mine as she looks up from a bowl on the table. She drops the wooden spoon, which is the only noise we hear, and her chest is heaving. Her look tells me she was waiting for me even though she seems to be avoiding me. Her eyes blink and I can see she is collecting herself. But I will wait all day, if that’s what it takes.
Slowing my pace, I walk to her, already painfully aware that I have an instinct that sparked again the moment I saw her in Matchbox. Slightly pos
sessive, a strong need to protect her, demand her, and care for her, all rolled into one.
She is wearing a long green dress that clings to her body, paired with white converse sneakers that make her dress seem casual. My mind is venturing to what she possibly has on underneath as I catch a glance of a matching green bra, and how good it would be to take her deep while she leaves that bra on.
Shaking my head faintly, I remember I need to keep my head in the game.
“Hi again,” her eyes almost twinkle at me as she swallows.
“Avery,” I can’t figure out if my tone is a warning or if it is still stuck in disbelief that that we share the same air again.
Slowly, I take a few more steps in her direction as she leans against the island table. The suspense of it all is keeping us on edge, because in two seconds, she has no choice. I need to touch her.
After a moment, her eyes soften and her mouth curves slightly up. “I was waiting for this. You to stop by, I mean,” she admits as she looks down at the floor.
I’m in her bubble, and my hand gently grabs her arm. “And I will keep coming back until we talk,” I confirm what Avery already knows, because this woman knows me. My eyes cannot leave her. Her hair is slightly different than five years ago. I guess I didn’t notice the other night since it was up; slightly shorter, still below her shoulders, and beautiful. Still long enough to pull her down to my cock and…
I’m snapped back when she manages to say something.
“I know you will keep coming back,” she admits as she looks up at me.
“Yet still you avoid me.” I lay out the obvious.
“I’m not… I don’t know,” she admits in defeat.
We are being so ridiculous. My arms wrap around her and pull her flush to me in a hug. Instantly she sinks into my body. Her hair smelling of vanilla, the feeling of her in my arms making me tighten my hold. The sound of her inhaling my scent making me want to hold her face and remind her that it’s me.
For a few seconds, we stand there in an embrace. Lost in the moment, feeling one another again. I swear our pulses are syncing.
Slowly she retreats back and looks up at me with a gentle tug on the corners of her mouth.
“You want a coffee? You shouldn’t really be back here.”
I have to gently smile. “Why, because you don’t trust me when you have a spoon in your hand?”
It makes her grin softly. “No. Because health and safety rules.”
She scoots me out of the kitchen and indicates her head in the direction of a free table. I head to the table and sit down as she goes to grab my coffee, and one for herself.
As I briefly wait, I notice there is a box of games on the shelf. My guess is that’s for people to sit and play with when drinking their coffee. She has checkers. I take a deep breath as that fact makes something in me dance a little in enjoyment, and I normally hate dancing.
Avery returns with two big mugs and a blueberry muffin.
“Am I taste testing again?” I enquire, as it’s something I’ve done many times for her in the past. I give her my charming grin.
“Yes,” she says bluntly as she sits down and hands me a fork.
“That isn’t fair. Last time we were on a strict calorie-burning and taste-testing regime,” I tease, because in Chicago we would counter every piece of cake with a session of intense sex that would leave us sweating.
Avery rolls her lips in and her face turns pink as she grabs her coffee mug.
“Saw the checkers,” I indicate by tilting my head to the shelf with games.
She gives me a warm smile. “I like having board games. People can have a coffee of leisure and a game to play. And someone pretty special taught me how to play checkers.”
I’m going to take a wild guess that I am that guy. It does something to my restraint.
The conversation feels familiar. Too familiar. If it weren’t for the fact that there’s a different year on the calendar, I would say that no time has passed.
But it has.
“Look,” I begin, “suddenly we are thrown back into each other’s lives and we won’t be able to escape each other. You at least owe me a conversation.” I’m firm with her and it throws her off as she knows what I mean. But I’m confident with my words and I take a sip of my coffee… wow, that is good coffee.
“I didn’t say I wanted to escape you.” Her tone is strong as she corrects me and gives me a piercing stare.
Setting the mug down, I add, “I just think we owe it to ourselves to talk.” I touch her hand on the table gently. My eyes hold her gaze and my touch makes her draw in a breath.
“I know. But not today. Give me some time,” she softly requests.
“You’ve had five years, Avery,” I remind her almost in a hiss.
She loosens from my hands, but still stays facing me. “That’s fair, but I don’t understand why you would want to speak to me. Shouldn’t I be the last person you would want to see?”
A scoff escapes my mouth, and my fingers pinch the bridge of my nose. Quickly I look around and see nobody is taking notice of us. “You really think that? You have no idea how wrong you are.” I’m frank with her because she is off-base by a thousand miles.
Her eyes study me, and I can tell she is thinking something, but instead, she bites her lip and lets her head roll to the side slightly. She’s about to change the subject, I know her.
“Since this is your first time here, I take it coffee breaks and you don’t mix. One of those attorneys still?” she pesters with a raised eyebrow and her fingers tap the tabletop.
She always mocked me for working too much. But as that summer progressed, I was spending every spare moment with her and relishing our time together. She lets her hand weave through her hair and it falls in layers.
“True. I work a lot, but not as much. And here we are. You, the new bakery owner in town that everyone mentioned, but oddly enough, never by name.”
“And you are the Jake that everyone kept talking about. I just didn’t realize you were my Jake.”
I am her Jake. My heart aches. It sinks. My heart does everything again that it did when that summer ended.
“I am yours.” It comes out subtly and delicately as my eyes stay glued on the view in front of me.
I don’t know if she picks up that I mean it truthfully, or if she thinks I am just confirming who I am.
“Since you are the Jake that Lucas and Abby go on about, and you were living under a rock in recent months, then I think we established you are still married to your work?” She seems genuinely interested.
I scratch my upper lip. “Yeah, that’s true. No wife. No girlfriend. Not even a goldfish swimming in a bowl. You?” My eyes study her intensely to see if she found relief from me confirming that I am single.
I think I see a twinkle in her eye.
Already I know her answer, because I had Lucas fill me in on every fact he knew about Avery. Yet it still sends my body into a spin of satisfaction when she confirms it.
“No husband. No boyfriend. No puppies sleeping on the sofa,” she admits, and we both pick up on the energy between us and it’s like a familiar wind caressing against our skin. It is relief. “So, the single ladies in this town must be dropping at your feet, dying to get in your bed?” That witty bite of hers comes out in her tone, along with a confident crack of a smile, but I’m hoping she just really wants reassurance.
Tilting my head slightly in an angle and letting a half grin form, I tell her, “Maybe. But my bed hasn’t had anyone in it.” Her eyes look at me with surprise and almost contentment. “I just moved to my new house and I got a new bed.” I let my lips quirk as I watch to see if it gives her a rise. She gently shakes her head side to side, but her face is neutral.
We look at each other, letting the silence surround us. I check my watch.
“How is your grandfather?” she asks.
“He’s okay, I see him when I can. How’s Greg?”
“Yeah, he’s Greg. Got married in a
small ceremony in Key West a year ago and now lives in Salt Lake City of all places, working lots of nightshifts. We text a lot because his schedule at the hospital doesn’t make it easy to call.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “I guess you guys didn’t stay in touch?” She is trying to put the puzzle pieces together of what happened after we ended.
I shake my head, “No, but to be honest, we weren’t that close before I saw you that summer. In college, yeah, but once everyone graduated and moved on, we just lost touch.”
“Makes sense. I don’t really keep in contact with people from college except for the occasional social media like. But you’re close with Lucas and you studied together, I hear.”
“True. But that was graduate school, and I went to his wedding to his ex-wife.” I tip my head to the side. I shift our conversation. “I’m happy you’re doing what you love,” I tell her with full honesty.
There is a pause, and she lets her eyes scan me. “Thanks.” She looks at me as if she’s taking in the reality of who is in front of her again. “So crazy. You have been here this whole time. I guess I was also living under a rock,” she admits.
“I guess we weren’t really looking for each other.” It comes out a bit bleak. Realizing she may take it the wrong way, I add, “Doesn’t mean we weren’t waiting.”
She looks at me surprised and does not seem to know what to say. Instead, she swallows.
“Look, Jake, we will talk, and we will—” she starts, but her gentle face forms a frown as her eyes peer behind me and she quickly stands up. “Oh no,” her face drops.
My inner voice drops an oh no too because she did not get to finish that key sentence of what we will be doing. I turn around as she jumps forward. Watching as she races to the Labrador/German Shephard-mix plunging for her.
“I am going to kill Nate,” she huffs with frustration as she kneels to grab the dog by the collar. Tank is Nate’s—the owner of Matchbox next door—dog that he just adopted.
