Jakub looked to Harper who met his eyes with a knowing smile. “Told you,” he mouthed.
Harper reached for a cookie and took a bite, her eyes rolling backward, lids closing with such exquisite enjoyment he envied the damn cookie. He wanted to be the reason for that look on her face. “Mmmm. How did you know? I absolutely love pistachio macarons.”
Aurelia perked up, breaking the kiss. She plucked a red macaron from the plate. “Raspberry is our favorite.” She took a bite and returned her attention to her husband who looked upon her lovingly. She fed him a bite and their eyes locked, enjoying the silent moment of their shared favorite flavor on their tongues.
Jakub was seized with an urgency to have Harper alone. “Well, time for us to get going.” He stood, scraping his chair back.
Harper stood too with nearly the same urgency. “Thank you so much for dinner. It was lovely meeting you both.”
Aurelia and Ritchie hopped up and gave no fuss as they said their goodbyes, the urgent need to be alone with your lover not at all a strange notion to them.
But before she let them leave, Aurelia bounced onto tip toes and kissed Jakub on the cheek. “Thank you again for Marcella.”
Harper gave Ritchie a cheek kiss, whispering quietly so only he would hear, “What did he do for Marcella?”
He met her eyes for a brief moment during which Harper wasn’t sure he would respond. She chastised herself for being so forward.
But he leaned to her other ear as if to complete a double cheek kiss greeting and whispered swiftly, “Five kay.”
She wasn’t sure she understood correctly. But they were out the door and in Jakub’s cab before she could completely roll Ritchie’s words around in her mind. Had he said okay? No, he’d distinctly said five kay. What was five kay?
Jakub slid his hand over her knee. A sweetly possessive boyfriend kind of touch. “Did you have a good time?”
“I did.” Realization tickled over her scalp. Five kay. 5K. Five thousand dollars. “You’re very close with them.”
“Like family.”
“And Marcella? You’ve known her a long time too?” No wonder Aurelia had showered him with so much appreciation outside the fire station. Five thousand dollars certainly warranted a special trip for a personal display of gratitude.
He shrugged. “Actually, never met that cousin. Or maybe I have. Can’t remember. Aurelia’s family is huge.”
“You can’t remember her? And you gave her five thousand dollars?” Her words didn’t have the effect she’d hoped for.
She’d thought to show him she was impressed with his generosity. But the masseter muscle at the corner of his jaw clenched and he removed his hand from her leg.
Turning the key in the ignition, he said, “Yeah,” his gaze out the windshield but his focus receding inward.
She wished she’d never mentioned it. His manner turned contemplative, almost grave. She thought he might even drive her home instead of to his place but he turned down the main artery that led to his condo.
In the quiet, the only sound the turn signal ticking off, he took her hand. For the rest of the way to his place, he held her hand, pinned under his own atop his thigh.
He parked, unlatched his seat belt and gave her a sweeping, hungry look.
“Do you want me to come inside?”
Eyes a little bewildered, he nodded.
“Are you sure?”
He reached to brush a section of her hair away from her forehead with a thumb. “I want you, Harper.”
She had never heard a more heartening sentence in her life. “Good.”
But he didn’t make a move to leave the truck. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her fingers. “I need you. All night. Please stay.”
“I will,” she said, wondering if there was something more to his need beyond simple desire. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was filling some kind of loneliness for his wife.
Her phone vibrated in her purse. She checked the device. Another text from Yamato. The Chancellor will be at the bike race tomorrow morning. Perfect opportunity to get in some face time to lobby for the grant. I heard Gordoni’s going too.
The bike race started at six in the morning in a neighboring town, a thirty-minute drive away. She’d much rather fulfill Jakub’s wishes of her spending the night and waking lazily in the comfort of his arms. The fantasy was made all the sharper when he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip.
Fuck Gordoni. Fuck the Chancellor.
No. The only person she wanted to truly do such a thing with was Jakub Wojcik.
Jakub Wojcik on top of her. Yes.
Between her. Yes. Inside her. Yes. His body all over hers.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
The moment they passed through his door, they tore at each other’s clothing. She ripped out his button-down shirt from his jeans, popping the button fly as violently as possible. He roamed his hands over her dress to find the zipper then tore the metal handle to its extreme end, and she didn’t even care if he ruined the thing.
They were a tumble of flesh. Heavy, muscled male deliciously surrounded her, then was on top of her as his bed greeted her back. His erection, hard steel on her thigh, contrasted with the gentle way he caressed her face, her shoulder, over her breast. He stopped to tease her nipples with his fingers, one before the other, his mouth taking up the job of his finger on the first.
She writhed beneath him, need and pleasure near to bursting. Her pelvis bucked up and he smiled, understanding her need.
He trailed his hand lower until his fingers found her slick wetness. “Mmmm. You want me.”
“I do.”
He teased her opening, ending with a swirl of her clitoris before he raised his hand to his mouth and sucked her arousal off his fingers. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as though his ecstasy was incomplete without her scent. “Your desire is fucking delicious.”
“Oh, God, Jakub.” She had never seen anything more erotic in her life.
“Sorry. Language.”
She shook her head wildly to disabuse him of the idea she didn’t like his explicit talk. She’d never actually had the opportunity to know whether she liked such a thing during sex. Her previous lovers had been silent. But coming from Jakub, she liked it. So much so she could hardly form words. “Don’t apologize. Just…please…fuck me.”
A brilliant smile burst through his lips. “Gladly,” he reached to open the drawer of his nightstand, “I will,” lifted a condom and tore it between his teeth, “fuck you,” put his hand down to his cock in a deft sheathing maneuver before returning his hand to her cheek, “so hard, and so soft.”
She whimpered. “Yes. All of it.” All of you.
His erection nudged at her opening. He hovered above her, drilling his sharp, blue-eyed gaze into her, his eyes so full of passion she felt penetrated by him already.
Suddenly, he buried himself inside her. She gasped.
He paused, watching her, waiting.
When she smiled, he resumed his delicious thrusts. She threw her head back and moaned as he made love to her as promised. Long and hard, soft and sweet, wild and wanton.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Jakub woke, his bed was empty. An uncomfortable feeling seeped into him. Harper had said she’d stay the night. He’d wanted to wake with her in his arms. But all he’d woken to was a hastily written note on the pillow.
Had to go to a work thing early. I’m sorry. Thank you for a wonderful evening.
The last line warmed him a little. But he’d much rather have had her body here warming him. He crumpled up the note and threw it toward the wastebasket in the corner of his bedroom, and watched as the paper ball banked off the wall and fell into the basket.
He rubbed his hands over his face then stumbled to the kitchen to make coffee. In the living room, something out of place caught his eye. His Wildfire Management book was splayed open on the couch. He was sure he’d left it closed on the end table.
As his
dark roast trickled through the coffee maker, he leaned his back against the counter and eyed the book. A spot in his chest went soft at the thought of Harper sneaking a moment to learn about his interests.
Not that he would volunteer in California now. Not when things with Harper were starting to develop. But the fact she cared to read the book tugged at him. He remembered the look on her face when he’d asked why she wanted to play with viruses in the soil, surprising her, apparently, that he’d read up on her phage center plans.
Harper Peters cared about him.
For the first time in a very long time, he felt a twinge of optimism for the future.
As he got ready for work, then throughout the drive to the station, the feeling swelled like a wave peaking before the crash. He pulled up to the curb and for a moment sat quietly, allowing the sensation to grow.
The door of his truck closed with a solid sound of precision engineering, and he found himself on the sidewalk, facing the old farmhouse. Paint curled in long strips from the porch boards, the front steps worn down to the raw wood.
He thought about the absurd sum in his money market account. Waiting for Marianna. But even after Marianna’s college tuition, there would be plenty left. So much damn tainted money. He should have impulsively given it all away like he had with that check to Aurelia’s cousin. He could never imagine what he’d want to use all that money for. Money that was supposed to somehow ease Samara’s loss.
Whatever he spent it on had to be something Samara would approve of. He’d made himself that one promise.
All morning while performing maintenance on the fire truck and equipment, then on a call to a community fitness center to resuscitate a man who’d collapsed on a treadmill, Jakub continued to think about his money.
He thought about Harper carrying around the flyer for that old farmhouse then denying her interest in it as if she were ashamed. As if the house was some kind of dream she wouldn’t let herself have. Which seemed strange.
Surely, she made enough money as a doctor to buy an old farmhouse if she wanted.
He thought about her father. A drunk. Maybe even violent. Jakub hadn’t pried further into her childhood. Considering how uptight Harper was, and now that he knew some of her history, he imagined she hadn’t had a relaxed home life. Her dating rules cried obsessive, compulsive, and maybe even her job had roots in that—trying to gain some control of the world around her by controlling diseases.
But he liked her intensity. He admired how she channeled that energy into trying to restore things to right in the world.
He’d been jacked up on the voltage of his own ideals when he’d become a fire fighter. But when Samara died, some of that energy had died with her.
And now… Now there was Harper. Who cared about him. Who he wanted to protect.
Maybe there were some things he could restore to right.
He retired to his cot that evening to find a stuffed unicorn on his pillow. Bastard, Ritchie. Chuckling under his breath, he picked up the horse with the glittered rainbow horn and lay down.
The plan having cemented—for better or worse—in his mind, he pulled out his phone and called his sister.
“Jakub? What’s up?” Her voice strained to compete with the thumping music of the club.
“Of course you’re at a club.”
“Is this like a judging call? Cause I don’t have time—”
“No, look. I just wanted to tell you before you find out some other way.”
“God, what is it? You sound so grim.”
He crossed his ankles and watched his socked feet as he swished them back and forth. “No, not grim. The opposite, really. I’m about to make a big purchase, and I want you to know there’s still enough money for college for you. I didn’t want you to hear about it and think I blew it all or I’ve changed my mind.”
The din of the club died down, as though she’d walked to a back hallway. “Can you stop being so fucking nice? It makes me feel like such a loser.”
“You’re not a loser.”
“You’re like the only one who thinks that.”
“Well, you need a new boyfriend then. One who’s not an asshole. You still with what’s his name?” The guy was a tattoo artist. And Jakub used the term artist loosely. He wouldn’t care if her boyfriend was a trash collector as long as he treated her right. But this one barely paid attention to her. She was always chasing him down, waiting for him to call.
“Craig. His name is Craig.”
“He get his front teeth fixed yet?” Craig was like a stereotype of himself, had his teeth knocked out in a bar fight. Refused to get them fixed as some kind of statement about his image. Classy.
“We broke up. That’s why I’m here. It’s get-over-Craig party night.”
Thank God. “Good. That’s a step forward at least.”
“So, what’s this lavish thing you’re going to buy? Don’t tell me it’s a sports car or one of those ridiculous crotch rockets.”
Jakub threw an arm behind his head as he sank deeper into the pillow. “A house. A big, old house. A fixer upper. It’ll be a good investment.” And a very short commute.
The phone was silent for a moment. “So you finally talked Mom into this?” Marianna had been there when his mom refused his offer to buy his parents a house. When he’d held up his bank statement and shouted at them all in a strangled voice, What the hell am I supposed to do with this? How does this make anything right?
One day you’ll know what to do with it, his mother had said to him another afternoon in her kitchen. I know you can’t think about this now, but someday you may still have a family, and you’ll want the money for them. Samara would want that.
“The house isn’t for Mom and Dad.”
“Are you going to flip it?”
“I hope I’m going to live in it.”
“Just you in a big house? That’s kind of lonely.” Leave it to Marianna to say exactly what came to mind.
“Who knows? Maybe it won’t always be just me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay. Go on and get back to your get-over-Craig party.”
She didn’t say goodbye. The phone went silent for a moment. “Sadie’s got a single older sister. I could set you up.”
He laughed darkly. “Not necessary.”
“She’s really pretty. Black hair, blue eyes. Medium height. And she’s responsible. She manages this spa downtown and—”
“I’m seeing someone.” He didn’t want to tell her about Harper yet, but he wanted to shut her up. To declare he was seeing Harper aloud to his sister brought the relationship into solid reality. What was real could easily be shattered. He knew that better than anyone.
Marianna inhaled a sharp breath. Then she echoed his words to someone presumably standing next to her.
Great. He hadn’t even told his parents about Harper yet. Now all of Polish Chicago would know he was dating again.
“Way to go, bro! My next drink is for you.”
He appreciated the sentiment, but winced at an image of his sister, trashed, falling in some creep’s lap. “Hey. Promise me you’ll be careful tonight.”
“Don’t you have some old ladies to rescue?”
It was a testament to her maturity at least that she’d never asked him for money to blow on partying. He’d try to trust she’d make good choices.
“One other thing,” he rushed out, before she ditched him for another round of drinks. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad about the house, okay?”
“You have my word. Cross my heart and hope to die.” There was a gasp and the sound of a hand slapping over a mouth. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I swear I’m going to stop saying things like that.”
“No time to coddle your ego, young one. My old ladies are waiting to be rescued.”
She blurted loudly, “She’s lucky.”
Her response didn’t quite match up. Could be she was deeper into the rounds of drinks than he’d thought.
“W
hoever the chick is you’re seeing,” she clarified. “She’s really fucking lucky.”
For the first time perhaps ever, he didn’t have a comeback for his little sister. But it didn’t matter, because she’d ended the call.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Harper stared at the soccer players on the TV screen and strained to understand the appeal of watching a herd of men attempt to kick a ball into a net.
Nope. Still didn’t get it.
A warm hand fell on her knee. “Want more water?”
Harper looked at her empty cup of sparkling lime water, then blinked into the kind, blue eyes of the beautiful man who was talking to her. Her man. “I’m good, thank you.”
For the last hour, his mother, Irena, had been pushing cookies and appetizers on her as though her life’s directive was to fatten up anyone who walked in the door. A charming woman, really, who said what was on her mind. You must be something special if you bring Jakub home to us. A warm blush had crept over her face at the statement, and at the pressure of living up to the woman’s words.
Irena had appeared with a new plate of snacks and stood next to the loveseat, pointing to her husband’s socked feet where he sat on the couch opposite Harper and Jakub. “Harper, maybe you could help Peter. He has this problem on his foot—”
“Mom. Stop,” Jakub flew to her defense. “Harper isn’t here to diagnose Dad’s foot fungus. Besides, she’s more into viruses.”
“I’m into all infectious disease, including fungi.” She pronounced the plural of fungus the proper way, fungee.
“Is that how you say it? Always thought it was funjai.” Peter Wojcik began to remove his sock.
Harper cleared her throat. “Though Jakub has a point in that my area of expertise is rare and critical infections.”
Peter thrust his denuded foot onto the center of the rug.
Jakub groaned and smacked a palm to his forehead. “Are we really doing this?” He gave Harper’s leg a gentle squeeze paired with an apologetic glance. “Sorry,” he whispered.
A Beautiful Fire (Love at Lincolnfield Book 4) Page 16
