“Know what I think?” I turn the page to the three-tier cake with all the toppings. “I think you should go for this one.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?” She gives me a dorkish smile. “It’s kind of old-fashioned, isn’t it?”
“It’s the one you want. You shouldn’t worry about other people’s opinions.”
“How did you guess?”
“You looked at this one longer than the others, and you had this dreamy expression on your face. Plus, this was the cake you described whenever we played getting married since the age of ten.”
Her smile turns into a grin. “You’re right. I really like the traditional cake.”
“Done. That means you don’t even have to pick a flavor.”
“Fruitcake it is,” she says. “Is it weird that I hate fruitcake?”
“This is your day. If you want a cake just for the looks of it, that’s your business.”
“Right.” She elbows me. “That wedding game was my favorite.” Her gaze softens. “You, on the other hand, only wanted to play house.”
Closing the catalogue, I drop it in her bag that hangs over the back of the chair. “I guess I grew up.”
Kristi
The next few days are the most stressful of my life. The wait is even worse than for the paternity test results. In a far corner of my mind, I have already accepted Jake’s answer, but he still has to deal the blow, and then will come the hardest part. Until then, I try to live in the present. When Jake doesn’t work, we play with Noah in the garden and have long, happy dinners with Gina and Eddie. They’re the kind of dinners I always admired in magazine pictures, the kind where a long table is set with pretty crockery and colorful dishes, and a big family with cheerful faces clink their glasses together. This is my dream. My ambition. It doesn’t matter that it’s not a fancy job or a clever degree, or that most of it sprouts from my dreams of living in a proper house with a big family. It’s a real desire, a valid one, and it’s mine.
Noah is in his own bedroom, adjoining to ours, sleeping in his new bed. Our new sofas arrive. Day after day, our house is turning into more of a home. The only shadow over our happiness is the decision Jake has to make. We take Noah to a speech therapist in Johannesburg. On her recommendation, we spend hours reading to him and singing songs. Jake is nothing if not dedicated, making sure he gets home early enough to read Noah’s bedtime story and tuck him in.
When we’re not having leisurely family lunches on weekends, we spend time with Nancy and Steve or hang out at all the regular town events. We go to the weekend picnics at the lake, the charity ball, and the annual lamb on the spit. No matter how much fun these get-togethers are, I often drift into a moment of quiet observation. The more we’re integrating as a family, the deeper my roots grow in this town, and while I’m making a place here for myself, I can’t help but wonder if Jake is already cutting himself lose, preparing for the inevitable.
October is upon us. The effortless glide from one season into another only adds as a reminder of the swift passing of time when all I want to do is catch the hours in my fist and keep my fingers tightly wrapped around the minutes. We can’t push back the decision for much longer.
As the hourglass empties, our need for each other grows. We’re like starving animals, Jake becoming more dominant and me blossoming at the way he orders me to my knees and defiles my body, only to pick me up off the floor and treat me like a princess afterward. The way he increasingly lavishes attention on me is both amazing and disconcerting. He’s already making up for lost time. In a subtle way, he’s preparing me for his decision. Much sooner than I want, I’m going to lose him, this time forever.
The knowledge makes me desperate, desperate enough to push Jake to his limits. We’re having drinks at the Bluebell Bar with Nancy and Steve and a few of Jake’s colleagues from the factory on Saturday evening. Gina and Eddie are staying in, keeping an eye on Noah. It’s spring, but the weather is still cold. I snuggle closer to Jake on the bench we share, absorbing his heat.
I’m doing my best to focus on a conversation with Nancy while Jake is listening to something Steve is saying over the noise of the music. It doesn’t stop Jake’s hands from wandering under the table to cup my jean-clad sex. My reaction is instantaneous. Heat gathers in my core. A little pressure from his forefinger on my clit sets me ablaze. I open my knees a bit, giving him better access. He drags his thumb along the seam of my jeans, up and down my slit. I’m squirming in my seat, my body humming with need, which invites a knowing smile from him.
Upping the game, I rest a hand on the hard muscles of his thigh. All that physical power and strength flexing underneath my palm as his body tenses sends a rush of desire to my head. Mimicking his action, I slip my hand between his legs and cup the hardness under his zipper. He stills. His chest doesn’t rise with a single breath as I trace the outline of his length and the shape of his head with a fingertip. He visibly shudders before catching my hand, but instead of moving it away, he presses it down harder, letting me feel my effect on him. I’m dizzy from his touch and hot from teasing him. When he scrapes a nail over the seam of my jeans, causing a jagged, erotic vibration as his nail catches on every stitch, a soft moan tumbles over my lips before I can stop it. Thankfully, the sound is lost in the noise.
He turns his head to study me. The heat in his eyes makes me falter.
Without breaking our stare, he says, “I’m afraid we have to go. We have to be up early for Noah.”
There are protests from around the table, but Jake ignores everyone as he drapes his jacket over his arm and uses it to hide his erection. At the entrance, behind the protection of a pillar, he helps me into my coat before getting the door. A cold wind hits me when we exit into the parking lot and make our way to his truck. While he fishes his keys from the front pocket of his jeans, I wrap my arms around him from behind and lean my cheek against his broad back. He smells so good. My hands travel down, finding his erection, and I moan when he rolls his hips and presses harder against my palms.
“Kristi.” His breathing is labored, his voice hoarse. “Let me get you home.”
Home is nice. He’d take me to bed and make love to me gently so we don’t disturb Noah or wake my mom and Eddie, but tonight I don’t want nice. I want Roxy’s Bar. I want to go back to that moment in the past. I want dirty. I want everything I can get before the clock strikes an hour I don’t have to think about with two beers buzzing in my veins and my hands full of his hardness. I squeeze. He hisses. I stroke him through his jeans while grinding my groin against his ass. In a flash, he spins us around so my back is pressed against the truck.
“Not here,” he growls. “Behave.”
I bat my eyelashes. “What’s wrong with here?”
“It’s cold.”
“Are you scared?”
In the bright light shining from the lamppost, the russet color of his eyes shimmers like a winter sunset. “Are you trying to provoke me into fucking you on the hood?” He shakes his head in a slow gesture of disapproval. “By now you should know all you have to do is ask.”
My breath catches at the dare. Jake won’t deny me, but he prefers straightforward honesty, so I give it to him. “Please.”
His reaction is a simple, unquestionable command. “Pull down your pants.”
My hands tremble with anticipation as I undo the button and pull down the zipper. Cold air hits me between the legs when I shove my jeans and underwear down to my thighs.
His gaze caresses me where I’m naked. “Perfect.”
Taking a wide stance in front of me, he lifts his eyes to mine while dipping the tip of his finger between my folds.
“Soaking,” he declares. “Is this for me?”
I nod and moan as he rubs two fingers over my clit. I arch my hips forward, trying to take more, but he withdraws his touch.
“Naughty girl. You’re not getting off this easily. I’m going to take you hard. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
All I can do is n
od again, my eyes drifting closed as he palms my bare ass.
He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Say it, ginger.”
There’s a new wildness in his eyes, a feral light, but I need this too badly to let him go easy on me. “Yes. Please.”
He unfastens his jeans and frees his cock with impatient yanking, stroking it almost violently. Oh, shit. I’m so out of my depth. Thinking I could tease Jake and handle the consequences was a joke. His movements are urgent as he shoves his jeans and briefs over his hips. They’re no less rough when he flips me around and bends me over the hood of the truck. One hand folds around my nape, holding me down, while the other fastens on my hip. With my jeans around my legs, I can’t move, not even widen my stance. I barely have time to register the head of his cock at my entrance before he slams in, taking me in one go. I choke back a cry. I can only hope no one heard, because we’re exposed in the well-lit parking lot. The fear of being caught adds to my arousal, slicking his entry when he pulls back and takes me with another harsh stroke. He pivots his hips faster, not giving me time to adjust, but this is how I want it. I cry out again when he hits a barrier. It hurts in a good way, in a way I don’t want to end.
My pants form white puffs in the misty air. “More.”
He picks up the pace, driving into me with a force that shifts my upper body over the hood. It feels as if he’s going to break me, but I’ll crumble if he stops. When he changes the angle of his penetration, driving up with sharp stabs of his hips, I go on tiptoes to escape the bite of pain that mixes with the pleasure. A sharp slap falls on my ass. It stings as much as it rings out in the quiet lot. I still momentarily, my body tensing, and then I’m over-conscious of the sound of our bodies slapping together with a rhythm that reverberates harshly. It makes me turn even wetter. I strain my neck to look back at Jake. Seeing him punching his hips with sharp jabs against my ass is almost enough to send me over the edge. I’m so close. I try to wiggle a hand between the hood and my body to touch my clit.
Jake abandons my hip to grab my arm, pushing my wrist onto my lower back. “Naughty girl. You come when I decide.”
“Jake.”
“Shh.” He bends over to plant a kiss in my neck. “It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.”
I’m used to Jake’s stamina, but he usually lets me come at least once to take off the edge. This is torture. I ache with need, trying to rub my clit against the cold metal, but with every thrust he drives into my core, my back hollows, pushing my ass out. With his big hands around my neck and wrist, I’m as good as tied up. I’m helpless, forced to take what he’s willing to give. Male grunts punctuate every stroke as he hammers the breath out of my lungs. Pleasure starts building in the spot he repeatedly rubs with the big head of his cock, but it coils through my lower body too slowly.
“Can’t,” I utter on a moan that turns into a muffled scream as he impales me with a deep thrust that feels as if it’s splitting my body in two.
“You love this,” he says, the edge in his voice telling me he’s close.
He’s right. I do. I love everything about this. I love the hard. I love the dirty. I love him.
“Are you ready to come?”
“Yes, please.” I can’t take another minute. My insides feel raw.
“Don’t make a sound.”
I brace myself, barely swallowing the sounds as he goes for the final stretch. It’s savage, raw, and more desperate than any of the times we’ve been together. I watch him with my cheek pressed to the hood, drinking in the beautiful beast who is my husband. He releases my wrist and sucks his thumb into his mouth, all the while holding my gaze. That point of connection, the intangible that flows between our eyes, is as much a warning as reassurance. He wants me to know exactly what he’s going to do. Even if I expect it, I still gasp as his thumb penetrates my dark entrance, stretching the tight ring of muscle. The pressure climbs, adding to my fullness, adding to my need.
Another cryptic command. “Stay.”
He lets go of my nape and slides a hand around my body to roll my clit between his fingers. I bite down on my lip not to scream.
His voice is even. He’s in control. “Condom?”
“No.” I don’t want anything between us. I want him to come inside me.
He bends over me, his lips teasing my ear. “Ass or pussy?”
“Pussy.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I’m not going to fall pregnant. I’ve just finished my period. I need this. I want this. Like a parting gift.
He steps up the game, filling both my holes with a severity that has me on the verge of passing out. His fingers on my clit never falter. When warm jets fill me inside, I come with such a force, my vision goes hazy. He grinds and thrusts, milking every last aftershock from my body until I sag over the hood like a ragdoll. Depleted. Boneless. Ecstatic.
A rustle of clothes followed by the pull of a zipper sound at my back. He pulls up my jeans and turns me around so he can fasten them. The minute we’re covered, his lips slant over mine in a kiss that’s both lazy and greedy. He parts my lips with his tongue, coaxing me to meet the urgency of his demand.
I’m not sure if I’m trembling from the cold or the hard way in which he took me, but I don’t care when he folds his strong arms around me and pulls me to his chest. I lean against him, soaking in the comfort of his warmth, letting him pet and stroke me, and tell me how good I’ve been. Lifting me in his arms, he unlocks the door with one hand and lowers me into the passenger seat before fitting my safety belt. He takes off his jacket and drapes it over me, tugging it around my body. Then he gets behind the wheel, starts the engine, and turns up the heat. Thankful for his consideration, I shift as close to him as the safety belt allows and rest my head on his strong shoulder, glad there isn’t a console putting space between us. He puts an arm around me, effortlessly steering the automatic with one hand. I nuzzle his neck, inhaling his scent and submitting it to memory.
He twists a lock of hair around his finger, the gentle pull soothing and lulling me to a deeply relaxed state. He plays with my hair until we pull into our driveway. I’m warm and safe, close to drifting off.
He kisses the top of my head. “We’re home.”
“Mm. Already?” I want to stay like this forever.
“Let’s have dinner tomorrow night, just the two of us.”
Just like that, I’m wide awake. My heart turns over. Dinner, just the two of us. That’s code for we need to talk. I freeze as if an absence of movement would preserve our beautiful equilibrium. I close my eyes against the sting of tears.
It’s happening. Tomorrow. Finally. Too soon.
Chapter 23
Jake
The best restaurant in Rensburg is the steakhouse, which is why I drive Kristi to Johannesburg for dinner. When she walks ahead of me to our table at a popular seafood restaurant, I swallow. She’s wearing a pink dress that hugs her breasts and hips. With her curvy body and that innocent dress, she turns all the heads in the room, male and female. The waiter serves water before leaving us to go over the menu. From the way Kristi bites her lip as she studies the options, I know she’s nervous. It took me long enough to tell her what she’s been waiting to hear, but I didn’t want to break the news to her before I had all the details sorted out.
She drums her nails on the table as she continues to frown at the menu as if it’s written in Latin. Reaching over the table, I cup her hand. I touch her not only because I can’t resist, but also because she needs the comfort. At the contact, her fingers still.
“Shall I order for us?” I ask.
“Yes, please.”
To look at the menu, I have to tear my gaze away from the woman who has given me everything—love, a child, acceptance, absolution, and most of all freedom. When the waiter returns, I order a bottle of their best wine and a seafood platter for two.
Alone again, I turn my attention to our surroundings. We’re in a private booth in the corner with a magnifi
cent view over Sandton. She stares through the window at the city lights, her pretty face illuminated by the single candle on our table. The strawberry color of her hair, dried straight tonight, glows around her face. With the natural blush of her cheeks and the dusting of freckles on her pale skin, she’s all peaches and cream, all the sugar I’ll ever need. Her attention is slipping again, probably dwelling on the reason we’re here. I’m not going to make her wait longer.
Reaching inside my jacket pocket, I take out the velvet box and slide it over the table toward her. The action catches her attention.
Eyes widening, she glances from the box to me. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
“I’m not sure—”
“I said open it.”
The stern order works. She reaches for the box slowly, then gives me another uncertain glance before flipping back the lid. The rose gold ring sits on a bed of black velvet, the diamond catching the light and throwing it back over the table. She gasps softly. When she looks back at me, her brows pinch together and her mouth puckers around a soundless question.
“I never got you a ring.” I brush my fingers over her knuckles. “Couldn’t afford it the first time round.”
Her voice drifts down like a feather, a frightened whisper. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”
“What do you think?”
She wets her lips, weighing her answer as if there isn’t only one option. “You’re staying?”
I tighten my grip on her fingers. “I’m not leaving you again. Ever.”
“But… But what about the offer? It’s the chance of a lifetime.”
“We’re a family. Families stay together.”
“This is your dream.”
“My dream is right here.”
“Here?”
“In Rensburg.”
“You always said you wanted to leave.”
“I was running away. I have no more reason to run, only reasons to stay. You gave me something I never had. You gave me a family. No job or selfish absolution is more important.”
Catch Me Twice Page 33
