Changing Gears

by Roseanne Beck

  “Trust me.” Jake winks. “The best it yet to come. It’s been a long day. Why don’t you go freshen up and get into something comfy?”

  I pause, a hand on my bag. Does he mean comfy sexy? Or comfy sweatpants?

  As if reading my mind, he adds, “Something you won’t mind getting a bit, uh, dirty.”

  “Um... If you signed me up for some secret Jell-O wrestling competition, I don’t think I’m quite at that level of corruption yet.”

  Jake licks his lips. “Oh, God. Don’t tempt me.”

  Before I can ask for further clarification on his instructions, someone knocks at the door. “Room service,” calls a gruff voice.

  Jake crutches to the door and opens it. “Aha! Hey, Bert. Can you put it over there?” Jake gestures toward the table beside the bed. “No peeking,” he says to me.

  An older man with a beer belly and more hair sprouting from his ears than his head enters the room and sets a plastic take-out container down. “Enjoy.”

  “Seriously? This place has room service?” I ask after Bert leaves.

  “Nope.” Jake grins and shakes his head. “It’s from the diner next door. Okay. You ready for that next round of corruption?”

  I look down at my shirt and jeans. “I honestly have no idea. Should I go change?”

  “Nah. You’re fine.” He sits down on the bed, takes off his shoe, then pulls himself back so he’s leaning against the headboard. He pats the empty spot beside him. “Your turn.”

  Following his lead, I kick off my shoes and sit next to him. Ooh—very comfy. Much better than any hotel mattress I’ve ever slept on. I think it might be even better than mine. And I love my mattress. “Okay. Now what?”

  “Now—” he places the plastic container between us and opens it with a flourish “—we eat. In bed.” He gasps in faux horror.

  Aww. This is sweet. Not quite the hot and spicy I’d been hoping for, but maybe he’s planning to work up to that. Although... Is that a hot fudge brownie sundae? Images of my naked Jake dessert fantasy flash through my head, and I gulp.

  Jake’s eyes sparkle as he dips a finger into the whipped cream mountain, then holds it in front of my lips.

  Anticipation flutters in my stomach again. I’m in bed. With Jake. And a hot fudge brownie sundae. “Okay. I think I’m beginning to see the possibilities.”

  “Thought so.”

  I flick my tongue out, capturing the dollop off his finger. His eyes darken, and his Adam’s apple bobs. Ooh, yeah. I think I’m gonna like it here.

  A slow smile curves his lips, and he digs the spoon into the dessert, then wraps his lips around the fudge-drizzled brownie. “Mmm. Damn, that’s good. You want some?”

  I nod, lust clogging my throat.

  He digs his spoon into the gooey fudge again but pauses before offering me a bite. “I don’t know. I’d feel kind of bad if you got chocolate on your shirt. Maybe you should take it off.”

  Oh, that sneaky sonofabitch. He is smooth. “Just to be clear, are you threatening me with dessert?”

  “Threatening? No. Hoping to fulfill one of my fantasies right now? Absolutely.”

  Desire curls in my belly, kinking as I remember what I’m wearing. “Uh, your fantasies don’t happen to include a sensible bra and cotton briefs, do they?”

  Jake groans. “Now they do.” While I’m still contemplating the need to change into something sexier, Jake holds up the spoon.

  Sexy underwear? Or take my chances and go with the flow?

  Leaning forward, I liberate the brownie from Jake. Wow. That is good.

  The low moan from my throat makes Jake’s eyes flash, and he tugs me toward him, flicking his tongue across the fudgy trail on my lips. “Mmm. Sweet and delicious. Just like you.”

  Nudging the take-out carton out of the way, he rolls me so I’m straddling his thighs. As he leans back against the headboard, he draws me with him. He nibbles my lower lip, then moves his attention to my jawline while he skims his fingers under my shirt. Excited tingles follow the path of his hands as they slowly work the cotton tee over my head. “Beautiful,” he breathes before working his way down my neck again.

  Okay. I love this plan.

  His soft, reverent kisses send shivers racing down my spine.

  “Still too many clothes,” he murmurs.

  “Amen.” I tug his T-shirt off, then swipe my finger through the whipped cream. I pause, momentarily mesmerized by his tattoos. The artwork is impressive peeking out from his short sleeves, but absolutely stunning fully exposed. The dragon looks like it’s climbing up his arm, its head resting on his shoulder, and the guardian angel keeps watch over the other side, its wings wrapping around his chest and disappearing to his back.

  “You like what you see?”

  “Definitely. They’re gorgeous. And so are you. But I’ll bet you taste even better.” Holy hell. I do not know where that bravado came from. Probably some mixture of hormones and sugar rush. But right now, I don’t really care.

  I dot his abs with whipped cream, then take my time savoring my handiwork with my tongue. By his hitched breathing, I’d say it’s a safe bet Jake’s enjoying my bravado as much as I am.

  “Okay. My turn.” In one swift move, he pops my bra off and rolls us both over. He props himself up on an elbow, then drags a finger through the fudge sauce and draws lazy chocolate abstract art across my chest and around my belly button. A lascivious grin works its way across his lips. “Oops. Looks like I made a mess. I should probably clean that up for you.”

  I gulp, then shudder as he alternately laps at the chocolate and sucks it off.

  Oh. My. God. If this is what corruption feels like, I am never following the rules again.

  SATISFACTION HUMS THROUGH my veins, and I snuggle closer to Jake.

  When Aunt Sheila told me to enjoy the ride, I don’t think that was what she had in mind. Although it is Aunt Sheila, so who knows?

  What I do know is that Jake is fantastic. And I may never move from this spot. Partly because I don’t want to, and partly because I’m not actually sure I can.

  Jake kept “accidentally” painting me with chocolate, his artwork and subsequent cleanup gradually migrating down my body. Our pants and underwear were quickly discarded “to protect them from his clumsiness.”

  And despite his words, there is absolutely nothing clumsy about Jake. Not when it comes to sex. Not even with his cast. In fact, he’s the best I’ve ever had. By far. A fact which both terrifies and pleases me. Because I’m still not sure if he’s sticking around. And if he doesn’t, am I now ruined for other men?

  Sheila’s words echo through my head. Relax. Enjoy the ride.

  I trail my fingers along his ink patterns, focusing on them in an effort to help calm my mind.

  Huh. Looks like the dragon’s tail is partially covering up a surgical scar, the thin, raised line extending from his wrist to his lower arm. Working my way higher, I trace his collarbone, noticing for the first time that one side has a scar and the other has a bump.

  The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest changes, and I glance up to find his eyes on mine.

  I trace the bump again, comparing it to the flatness of the other side.

  “I broke both of them,” Jake says. “A couple years apart. This one has a plate and screws—” he indicates the flat side “—and they let the other one heal on its own.”

  “How about this one?” I point to his arm.

  “Broke my wrist. Two plates, half a dozen screws each.”

  “All work-related?”

  “Those? Yes. This one—” he touches the scar near his eye “—not so much.”

  “What happened?”

  He hesitates, then hangs his head. “I had a fight with a Care Bear purse.”

  I stifle a laugh.

  “In my defense, it was a change purse, and Tracy whacked me with it. One of those little metal ball thingies caught me.” He gives me a stern look and holds up a finger. “But if anyone asks, I took a header into a handl
ebar.”

  “Got it.” I nod, crossing my heart. “Which one was the worst?”

  “For my pride? The purse. But if we’re talking pain—the leg. Definitely.” He grimaces. “Remember the triple jump?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember how high they went?”

  “Yeah. What, like thirty feet?”

  He nods. “That’s how high I was when I fell.”

  I wince. “Ouch.”

  “Yep.”

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “Not really. Just more of a dull ache now. Mostly when I’ve been standing too long. Or if it’s raining. How about you? You got any good scar stories?”

  “No. Not like yours.”

  “But surely you’ve got something.”

  “Well...” I scrunch my nose, then raise an arm. “This right here—” I say, pointing to a faint raised scar along the side of my hand “—is from a calculator.”

  His chest bounces as he laughs. “Nerd scars. Totally hot.” He kisses the top of my head. “I love it.”

  “Yeah, well, they say Mathletes have the highest rate of injury of any sport.”

  He shakes his head. “No. No one says that.”

  “Okay... Well, do they at least say that we should study some more? You know, to make sure we’re doing our homework right?”

  “Yes. That I believe they do say.” He taps his lips with a finger. “In fact, now that I think about it, I do remember my surgeon saying something about doing exercises. To help my leg.”

  “And you’re sure this is what he meant?”

  “Yep.”

  “You sure your doctor’s not a quack?”

  “Nope. Totally respectable. Best in the business.” He raises an eyebrow. “Any chance you want to try helping me heal a little faster?”

  I purse my lips, pretending to contemplate his question while every cell in my body screams “yes.” “Alright. But on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That I get a front row seat to some of those penis tricks I’ve heard so much about.”

  The wicked grin that stretches across Jake’s face sends flickers of desire racing through every nerve.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Jake

  IT’S WEIRD. I’M LYING here, Lauren sprawled across my chest, and instead of wondering which excuse I’m gonna use or how fast I can make my getaway, I’m wondering what I did to get this lucky. And if I can manage not to screw this up.

  Because this is seriously uncharted territory for me. And I have no clue what to do. How to be there for someone else. How to work through things instead of picking up and leaving.

  Shit.

  I still haven’t completely made up my mind about the whole comeback thing. What if I decide not to go back? What kind of impact will that have on us?

  Holy crap. There’s an us.

  Lauren stirs, stretching her arms. A lazy smile works its way across her mouth. “Morning, handsome.”

  “Morning, gorgeous.”

  She sighs as I trail a finger down her back. “Did you sleep well?” I ask.

  “Yep. Like a rock.” She peeks up at me. “I love this place. I may never want to leave.”

  I chuckle. “I know, right?”

  “How’d you find it?”

  “Well, with all the travel, I’ve tested out a lot of places. I think Hurley and I ended up here once before a big event. We were kind of strapped for cash, and there was some other event going on that had all the usual places packed. This place was booked, too, but it turns out Bert’s grandson rides, and he let us have a cancellation in exchange for a couple of autographs.” I glance around the room. “It’s clean, quiet, and comfy, and the diner has the best damn hot fudge brownie sundaes I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Wow. You should do commercials.”

  “And lose the anonymity? Nope.”

  “Well, I hate to shatter your illusions, but you are definitely good boyfriend material.” A V forms between her eyebrows. “Unless that’s your signature move.” She shifts, uncertainty clouding her features. “Oh, crap. It is, isn’t it?”

  “Nope. Despite what you may think, last night was tailor-made for you. And me. I’ve wanted to do that ever since Kylie mentioned the forking incident. So thank you for indulging me.”

  Her expression relaxes, her cheeks pinkening. “My pleasure. And uh, just so you know, I may have been having similar thoughts.”

  “Ah. Great minds think alike.”

  Lauren grins. “Does that mean you’re also wondering if Bert takes orders for breakfast deliveries?”

  “I wasn’t. But now I am. Have I told you how smart you are?”

  “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

  “Yeah, well, get used to it.” I plant a kiss on her mouth, stopping any of her disagreements before she can make them.

  I STARE AT A NAKED Lauren hovering in the doorway of the bathroom.

  “You sure you don’t want to join me?”

  I huff a laugh and shift on the bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure in my groin. “Want? Yes. Physically able to? No.” There is nothing sexy about having to drape my leg over the side of the tub. Especially when my hip spasms from the position. Plus, even though I know Bert keeps it clean, there’s still something skeevy about taking a bath in a motel tub. “But this thing should be coming off soon.” I tap my cast. “Raincheck?” Although where the hell am I gonna raincheck? Not like I can really commandeer Tracy and Craig’s bathroom for some sexy bath time after I get my cast off. Maybe her place?

  Or maybe it’s time I start to think about looking for my own place.

  The thought zooms through my head like a rider gunning through a straightaway.

  I wait for the panic, but it doesn’t come.

  Huh. Weird.

  “You okay over there?” Lauren asks.

  “What? Yeah.” Surprisingly. “Why?”

  “You looked like you were deep in thought. Or like you smelled something rotten.”

  I shake my head, plastering a smile on my face. “Nope. I’m good. Go ahead and get your shower.”

  Lauren’s forehead wrinkles.

  “Uh-oh. That’s your thinking face.”

  She nods. “I was just thinking that a good girlfriend would take care of her boyfriend. Especially if he’s injured.”

  “Okay...”

  “And you remember these hands?” She wiggles her fingers. “And how they’re good for massages?”

  “Yeah.” She’d demonstrated her skill on several additional body parts last night. I’m a huge fan.

  “Well, they’re also really good for sponge baths.”

  The body part that enjoyed her “massages” the most last night tightens again.

  “And, uh, if you’re not doing anything tonight when we get back, I might have some free time in my schedule.” She darts a look at the cramped bathroom. “I think it’ll be a little more comfortable than here.”

  “Seriously. Are you in my head?” It’s getting kind of freaky how we seem to be on the same wavelength. I kinda like it.

  She grins. “No. But I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

  “Oh, that’s a hell yes. But I’m only doing this so you don’t feel like a bad girlfriend.”

  “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  LAUREN SIGHS AND WRAPS her fingers around the steering wheel. “I don’t want to leave.”

  “Well, we could stay here. But I’m pretty sure Bert’s reached his delivery limit, and sooner or later, we’re gonna need more food. Besides, we should get a move on, or we’re gonna be late.”

  “Late for what?”

  “For the final stop of the Lauren Gone Wild tour.”

  She presses her lips together, but a smile sneaks through anyway. “Just promise me there won’t be any videos surfacing that I’ll regret later.”

  “Damn. I knew I forgot something.”
/>
  We ride in comfortable silence, every now and then singing along with the music, until we reach our destination.

  Lauren stares out the windshield at the tattoo parlor. “Oh. Are you getting another tattoo?”

  “Maybe. We’ll see.” I grab my crutches and extricate myself from the car, nodding her inside. “Come on.”

  Gunther’s face creases into a smile, and he kicks his boots off the counter. “Jake! My favorite customer.”

  “He says that to all his customers,” I say.

  Gunther shrugs. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He extends a hand to Lauren. “You must be Jake’s friend. Let me know if this is what you were looking for. If not, no problem. I can make adjustments. Or we can do something else.” He pulls a sheet of paper from under the counter and slides it toward Lauren.

  Her eyes round into saucers, and they bounce back and forth between me and Gunther. “Wait. We’re here for me?”

  I nod, nervous anticipation churning in my gut when she turns her attention to the paper.

  Wait. Why the hell am I nervous? I’m not the one getting my first tattoo. She can say no if she wants.

  “Oh, wow,” she breathes. “It’s beautiful.” She holds it out so I can see.

  She’s right. It is. In fact, it’s perfect. The bottom is an open book, the pages gradually shifting into butterflies, which arc up like a rainbow.

  Gunther traces the curve with a finger. “It’s totally up to you, but from what Jake said, I’m guessing you’re gonna want this someplace kinda hidden. It’ll show with a swimsuit or with those cami things, but if we did it on your upper back, the butterflies could fly up and over your shoulder blade.”

  “Yes,” she blurts out. “Do it.” The thinking lines between her eyebrows furrow. “What exactly did Jake say?”

  Gunther chuckles. “Dude waxed rather ineloquently for like thirty minutes. But I got the gist. That you were looking to open up. Make some changes. Spread your wings.”

  I shoot Gunther a dirty look. “Shut up, man. I did not wax ineloquently.”

  “Yeah. You did. Damn near talked my ear off.”