I walk into her apartment, grab the list of rules, and lean my hip on the kitchen counter as I read through them. They really aren’t that bad. Not that I plan to follow a goddamn one, but I can at least let her believe she’s won this round. I know firsthand what to say to get a girl to believe me.
I stop. That’s exactly what she’s accused me of. She makes me sound like such a dick. I don’t want people to think of me like that.
Okay, new plan. Maybe I’ll pick out a few of her rules and actually follow them. It’s only for twenty-one days. Number four catches my attention. “No parties?”
“We’re about to start finals. I need to be able to concentrate.” She settles in next to me and points at number six. “That one is negotiable.”
“No TV after ten? What are you, my mom?”
“I said it’s negotiable.”
“And I say it’s not.” I grab the black Sharpie she’s been using to mark the boxes and draw a line across number six. “I’ll watch TV whenever I want.”
She thins her lips and nods. Oh, how this must be killing her. “Fine, but I’m not budging on the no parties rule.”
Fine by me. She’s right about that one. We’re about to hit finals and won’t have time to do anything fun. Three weeks. Then I can be free of this hell I’m quickly sinking in to.
“Did you read number twenty-five?”
I sigh and drop my attention to the list. The fact she has so many rules is troubling. She’s only… I don’t know how old she is and for some reason, that bothers me. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
I cross out all the rules after twenty-three without reading them. “You are not allowed to have more rules than years you’ve been alive.”
She shakes her head as panic washes over her expression and color drains from her face. “But, but, but…”
“Stop.” I take her hands and hold them between mine until she stops trembling. Wow. This girl seriously needs to learn to loosen up and have a little fun. Good thing her friends found me when they did. “Look at me. Kayla, look at me. What happens if we don’t play by the rules?”
She blinks, clearly not comprehending the question. Jesus, what kind of parents raise their kid to be terrified of a life without rules? Then again, my dad has been in and out of prison my entire life, and my mom stole food from the restaurant she worked at so we could eat. I’m the last person to lecture Kayla on rules. Maybe if my dad had followed them, he wouldn’t be in prison and my mom wouldn’t be working three jobs to pay the bills.
“Jake, I can’t.”
“You can’t? Or you won’t?”
“I can’t,” she whimpers and trembles. I hold her hands until she settles. When she looks at me, tears shining in her eyes, I feel like shit that I pushed her to this point. “You have no idea how much I want to live life without rules. I want to have fun, but I can’t.”
“Why?”
The vulnerability in her gaze hardens and she pulls back. “I just can’t.”
There’s more to this girl than meets the eye, and I have every intention of finding out what makes her tick. Since we’ll be living together for the next month, I stop pushing her for now. I’ll have plenty of time to get answers. I’ll find out why she’s so scared of breaking the rules.
And then I’ll show her how much fun it is to do exactly that.
10
{Kayla}
Jake grunts as he drops a box on the kitchen counter. “That’s the last one. Where the hell were you hiding all this shit? I don’t remember seeing this much stuff in your place.”
“I’m very good at utilizing space.” I smile sweetly as I work on the kitchen, trying to keep my nerves in check. I’ve never lived with a guy before. There’s only one bathroom, which freaks me out. I have things I don’t want him seeing. Where am I supposed to hang my bras after I wash them? My panties? And I am not sharing any towels with him. I refuse to wipe my face with anything that’s touched his junk.
We both agreed to box up everything of the captain’s son’s belongings before we moved in. We even took pictures of the apartment before removing everything, just so we could put his stuff back exactly as it was when we leave.
One month. Well, less than one month. Twenty-one days, to be exact. I can do this. The time I’m not at work or in class I’ll just spend at the library. It’s not that much different than how I’ve spent every year since coming to BU.
“What are these?” He holds up the decorative towels I’ve attached to the handle of the oven.
“Towels.”
“These are not towels. They have buttons.”
“They set the ambiance.”
“Oh, hell no.” He removes them and tosses them into an empty box. “This is not a chick apartment.”
I rescue them from a life of towel obsolescence. “You don’t get to decide what we use to decorate.”
“Towels are not decoration.”
“These towels are.” I hold them up.
“Then they aren’t towels.” He jerks them out of my hand and drops them back into the box. “Towels dry things. Wipe things up. They were designed with a purpose in mind, not to hang on the oven. Besides, that’s a fire hazard, having something flammable hanging next to a heat source.”
I can’t stand this and already miss my slum of an apartment. It didn’t burn to the ground, but the authorities did step in and condemn the building until the super brings it up to code. Since he’s in jail for multiple counts of voyeurism, he’ll have to sell the building just to pay his legal fees. Even better, I didn’t get charged with arson since it was all the code violations that caused the fire to spread and not the fire itself. “Is this what it’s going to be like living with a fireman? Everything has to be up to code and all that before you allow it?”
“After what we went through last night, you’re seriously asking me that right now?” He looks at me. I need to throw something at him, so I do. The towels hit his impressive chest. He lets them fall to the floor, his gaze never leaving me. “Are you through?”
This man is so annoying. And irritating. And just…just…Gah! I can’t stand him and storm out of the kitchen before I throw something bigger—like a frying pan. “Fine. You do the kitchen the way you want. I’m going to tackle the bathroom.”
“Good. I hate bathrooms anyway.” He opens one of my boxes marked “kitchen” and shakes his head as he pulls out my cute little pizza cutter. “What’s this supposed to cut?”
“Pizzas.” Any idiot knows what the circular cutter is for.
“Not the pizzas I make.” He then scans the room and hurries over to one of his boxes, pops it open, and pulls out the biggest pizza cutter I’ve ever seen. It’s as big as a pizza. “This is a pizza cutter.”
I roll my eyes. I never cook anyway, so I really don’t care what he does to the kitchen. “Fine. Put whatever of mine is not worthy of your acceptance into a box. I’ll do the same in the bathroom.”
“Just don’t touch my towel.”
“Towel?” I stop and stare at him. “As in singular?”
“Why do I need more than one? There’s only one of me.”
“Gross,” I mutter and hurry into the bathroom before he tells me something else equally disturbing that will make me throw up in my mouth. It’s a small bathroom, but it will work. It’s only temporary. I’ll graduate, land my dream job, and be rid of the man-whore known as Jake Swanson soon enough.
By the time the natural light is gone, I’ve got the bathroom in order, my scented candles on the shelf, my loofa sponge hanging in the shower, and the carpet covers around the toilet. All in all, I consider it a successful day. I’m scared to see what little work Jake has done to the kitchen. I grab his box of unacceptable items and take them out of the bathroom for him to do something with.
As I emerge from the hall, my jaw hits the hardwood floor. Not only is the kitchen set up like something I’d see on the Food Network, he’s also tackled the living room. He has my slightly sin
ged couch, my accent chair, and his two beanbags—the only furniture he owned—all facing a ridiculously ginormous flat screen TV. What is it with guys and thinking bigger is better?
“Hungry?”
He startles me and I spin around. He’s at the kitchen counter, a curious look shining in his eyes. For some odd reason, I can’t pull away from that heated expression. It’s a dark, mischievous dance that sucks me in. My libido springs to life and I curse my body for betraying me. I do not like this man. Period.
I flash my best smile to cover my reaction to nothing more than a glance. “Starving. Want to order a pizza?”
“How about I make something instead? I love the layout of this kitchen.”
“You have the energy to cook after today?”
“Cooking is…” He shrugs and I sigh. Damn, he has fine shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess it’s a way for me to relax.”
Another layer of Jake is revealed. Since we aren’t fighting, I go with it. “I thought you don’t do rules. Aren’t there rules when it comes to cooking?”
“Not my cooking.”
Of course. “I’m listening.”
“The key to setting up a kitchen is the work triangle.” He grins and before my very eyes, he whips out all these containers with minimal effort. Hell, he barely moved from his spot. When he gives me a cute, almost shy look, I’m shocked. Literally shocked. Jake isn’t shy about anything. And yet, as he works his magic in the kitchen, he keeps stealing little glances at me. I can’t take my gaze off him. This is a side of him I’ve never seen. I like it. Love it, in fact.
That could become a problem.
“Work triangle?” I ask to distract myself from thinking about anything else I love about my new roommate.
“Stove, fridge, and sink. Everything you need on a regular basis should be within those three points.” He creates a crater in the flour spread on the counter, dumps in some eggs, and works it all together. Amazing. I’ve only made things that come in a box, so watching someone make something from scratch holds my attention. “There’s wine above the fridge if you want some.”
“That would be a yes.” I love wine and eagerly go in search of the nectar of the gods. Good thing it’s red. I don’t like white. Besides, red with red is the rule, and Jake has already opened a jar of red sauce. Oh, and it’s Pinot Noir, my favorite. I’m impressed and don’t know why.
I pop the cork and open the cupboard closest to the sink. Nothing but small glasses and tumblers. I open the next one to find plates, bowls, and coffee cups. “The stemware is in the cupboard above the fridge. There’s an actual glass hanger in there.”
“There is?”
“I know, right? I was shocked as shit, too. Then again, this is the Lynx. I’m surprised the building doesn’t have a doorman.”
“I wouldn’t complain if it did.” I open the cupboard and find a nice collection of wineglasses. They aren’t mine, so I assume them to be his. Guys have wineglasses? I thought they drank everything out of red Solo cups. Again, I’m impressed and don’t know how I feel about that.
I crane my neck. Who puts glasses up that high? Without a word, he wipes his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder, grabs two glasses by the stems, and hands them to me. I both love and hate how tall he is.
“Thanks,” I offer and pour us each copious amounts before handing him a glass.
He thanks me and holds it up. “A toast to our first night together. May we not kill each other.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
11
[Jake]
I can’t believe I’m nervous. I’ve never been nervous with a girl. Well, except my first time, but I was fifteen. What guy wouldn’t be nervous not only having sex for the first time, but with a seventeen-year-old who had a lifetime of experience above his? Besides, I’ve already had sex with Kayla. Twice. She doesn’t have anything I haven’t already seen. And tasted. And buried myself deep inside of.
And yet, as we sit on the couch, our pasta devoured, the kitchen clean, I can’t stop losing myself in those pretty eyes. I’ve always thought she had the most incredible eyes. It’s what first drew me to her. Well, her eyes and her ass.
“I’m not going to lie,” she says and gives me one of those flirty, come-and-get-me glances out of the corner of her eye. I’m going to lose my mind if she keeps giving me those looks. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
I inch closer, unable to stop myself. She’s so sexy, even in sweats. It could be the wine, but then again, it could just be my reaction to spending the day with her. I enjoyed the hell out of it, at least when we weren’t trying to rip out each other’s throats. “What’s that?”
“You never told me you could cook. That was probably the best spaghetti I’ve ever had aside from Bainbridge Italian.”
“Ouch.” I slap my chest. She giggles and pulls a grin from me. “How can you say that? Homemade is so much better than commercial food.” I take a drink of wine. We’re on our last glass and I’m feeling the buzz. I need to be on shift at the firehouse at eight tomorrow, and she has to work at six. We can’t stay up much later or we’ll both regret it in the morning.
We have to find some way to release the restless energy building between us before I pop. I inch just a little closer and casually drape my arm across the back of the couch. She flashes a knowing smile and giggles again. The sound lands in my ears and tightens my chest, and I have no idea why.
“Do you really think this little pasta seduction you’ve got going is working?”
Homemade pasta is my thing. Women can’t resist a man who knows how to cook. But, judging by the way she’s watching me, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, I can’t help but wonder. Has she already grown immune to my moves? They’ve worked on her before, but after the deed she ignores me like we don’t even know each other, which is yet another reason why I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t figure her out. “I, uh, don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure, you don’t.” She slaps my knee and tosses back the rest of her wine. “Nice try, Lover Boy. Once we’re out of this hell we call joint domestication you can put those moves on your next conquest. I’m not interested.”
I don’t know what to say. Hell, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had a girl turn me down before. Like, ever. Kayla fell for my moves the times we were together. So, why not now? This, right here, is why I never stick with one girl for too long. Leave her wanting more. Repeating that over and over in my head, I realize how ridiculous it sounds. Leaving her wanting more leaves me wanting more.
I can’t stand not knowing. If I ask her, she’ll tell me the brutal truth. Another thing I find myself attracted to, yet irritated when she tells me. It’s the mystery that is Kayla Riggs. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked my seduction techniques.”
“Not now that we have to live together. Let’s just keep it platonic. I’ve got enough stress in my life without adding another layer to it.”
Stress? If she only knew what her friends asked me to do. She knows about the wishes, just not what they are, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Not only am I to fulfill three insane wishes ordered by three insane women, I must do them all without Kayla knowing she’s acting out the requests.
If she only knew.
What the hell did I get into agreeing to share an apartment with this woman for close to a month? Sure, I get the benefit of being with Kayla every day, which makes the deal that much sweeter, but at what cost? I have to be celibate for the first time in almost ten years. Well, except when it comes to Kayla. According to the deal, I can have sex with her whenever I want, so long as it falls within the terms of our agreement. And she wants to keep it platonic?
This officially sucks.
Man up, Swanson. It’s not like this is forever. Why not make the most of it? After all, I do have three wishes to grant. I eye Kayla and offer her the sexiest of my smoldering grins. “You think sleeping with me would add stress?”
“I know it would.” Sh
e stands and yawns, stretching her hands high above her head. Her shirt lifts, displaying her delicious midriff. The flat of her stomach. The golden creaminess of her skin.
“You clearly don’t understand the benefit of a good orgasm.” I lick my lips as I imagine trailing kisses along that sweet, sweet flesh. I know how she likes to be touched, to be loved. And, truth be told, I like touching her, loving her.
“Maybe I’ve just never had one.”
I know a challenge when I hear one. I jump to my feet. “Want me to show you?”
“No, Jake. Not everything a girl says is an open invitation for sex.”
“What if we don’t count it, like your friends said?”
She’s already heading down the hall but stops and glances over her slender shoulder. Well, that’s an interesting look. It’s a cross between shock and playful. “What’re you suggesting?”
“We just fool around. No strings attached. If we put it out there upfront, it doesn’t count as a tap.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Jake, the rules—”
“We make the rules,” I insist, cutting her off. “Not everything is black and white. If we say it doesn’t count toward the three-tap rule, then it doesn’t. This is just us finding a way to get along. No wishes. No rules. Just you and me.”
She retreats a step. “And you think sex will help?”
“It can’t hurt. We both agreed that we only get along when we’re naked.”
“You won’t go banging other girls while we do this no-strings-attached thing?”
“Cross my heart.” I demonstrate by crossing my index finger over my chest.
“You’ll just be mine, like you said?”
My heart skips a bit at that thought. I’ve never been isolated to a single woman before. But hey, there’s a first time for everything. Besides, I made a promise to her friends, one I intend to keep. “To have and to hold.”
The Heat Is On (TREX Rookies Book 2) Page 10
