The Upside to Being Single

by Emma Hart

  “Tonight.” He brought his mouth back close to mine. “We’re going to talk. We’re going to figure it out. I’m going to cook—”

  “Oh, dear God.”

  “—You’re going to cook,” he corrected himself.

  I nodded. “Better. I don’t need food poisoning.”

  “And when we’re done, we’ll go upstairs and we’ll finish what we started last week.”

  “Upstairs? You’re optimistic for a guy standing between my legs right now.”

  “You wanna do it now? I’m not fussy. I’ve got the worst case of fucking blue balls since I was thirteen and saw my first Playboy.”

  “Was it Sam’s?” I deadpanned.

  He cough-laughed. “Actually, yeah. Yeah, it was.”

  “Not surprised.”

  “So, tonight? It’s a date?”

  I blushed and held his gaze for a second. “It’s a date.”

  He grinned, then leaned forward and kissed me. It took him only seconds to deepen the kiss to something more, and my fingers quickly found their way to his shirt and grabbed on tight.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Jake pulled back, groaning. “Why is it that every time I kiss you, I’m interrupted?”

  I shrugged as he stepped away from me. “Because your cousin is an ass, and right now, you should be working?”

  He stared at me. “You should be working, too.”

  “I was until you made me stop.”

  “Spitfire? Shut up and work.”

  I flipped him the bird, ignoring his stupid grinning face, and sat back down while he went to see whoever was on the other side of the door.

  If we were going to see each other, we really needed separate offices, or I had the feeling he’d never let me get anything done.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Upside #22: You never have to worry about whether or not you need to send fancy photo Christmas cards. Which I might now have to do. Crap.

  If I’d learned anything from meeting Jake, it was that my self-control was practically minimal.

  I mean, I knew that anyway. That was how I’d ended up flashing him in the very first place—my inability to say no to cocktails and to tell my friends where to stick it.

  There were worse things to have no self-control over. I mean, kissing Jacob Creed wasn’t a bad thing, it turned out. The man could kiss, even if he did keep getting interrupted.

  And aside from his apartment, he’d been kissing me at stupid times, anyway.

  It really was all his fault he kept getting interrupted.

  I finished drying my hair and set the blow dryer down on my bed. My hair was now fluffy, but I couldn’t be bothered to get the straightening iron out. Besides, this might have been a date, but it wasn’t really.

  We didn’t need to get to know each other. We didn’t need to see each other at our best, because we’d already spent so much time together, it didn’t really matter at all.

  I did, however, put a lick of mascara over my lashes, do a little to fill in my brows, and powder my face. I needed to look somewhat human, after all.

  I tugged my jeans up at the back and headed downstairs. Since I’d learned that Jake was almost always early—frustrating for someone who was late for everything except work—I was glad I’d left work a little early to make sure I could cook properly.

  Since he’d mentioned wanting to cook jambalaya, I’d cooked one myself and had it simmering in my skillet while I’d showered. I wanted it ready for when he showed up, because I knew that as soon as we were done talking, there’d be no chance of eating.

  So, the plan was to eat first.

  It was a pretty good plan, if you asked me. Nobody had, but nobody needed to, after all.

  I stirred the jambalaya right as there was two knocks at the door. I swallowed hard, putting the spoon on the kitchen side.

  I almost hesitated before I opened the door, but that was only because I was nervous.

  I knew where this night would lead.

  I mean, it had better lead to sex like he promised.

  I wasn’t wearing matching underwear for no reason.

  “Hi,” I said a little too breathlessly.

  “You usually open the door before you greet someone,” he said from the other side of the door.

  And just like that, we were back to normal.

  I opened the door with a pout. “I see normal service is being resumed.”

  “If by normal service you mean you’re a klutz, then yes.” He grinned, stepping inside and holding up a bottle of wine. “And judging by how nervous you look, it’s a good thing I stopped for this on the way over here.”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  “Tell that to your eyes, spitfire. You look like you’re about to lose your virginity.” He turned and eyed me. “Wait. You’re not a virgin, are you?”

  “If I didn’t think you were joking…” I pushed the door shut.

  “You’d hit me, right?”

  “Right.”

  He came back over from the kitchen and locked my front door. “Where’s your phone?”

  I jerked my head between the door and him. “Why did you lock the door? And why do you need my phone?”

  “Because, when we’re done talking, I don’t want to be interrupted. I’d hate for someone to call or stop by when my cock is inside you.”

  Well. That was an excellent point.

  “Um, my phone is by the stove.” My gaze flicked from the door to him. “Is your phone off?”

  “Off and in my car,” he replied. “Mostly because I took great pleasure in telling Sam that the orange juice he and his guest drank out of this morning was the one I opened.”

  “I don’t understand why that’s pleasurable to you at all.”

  His grin was playful but also devilish. “I didn’t use a glass.”

  I wrinkled up my face as I moved to the stove. “That’s gross. But, he totally deserved it.”

  “If I’d been there for ten more seconds, he’d have punched me.” Jake pulled two wine glasses out of the cupboard. “Seriously—I already pissed him off last night by telling him he should worry more about his own fleeting relationships than what I’m doing, so the juice thing was the cherry on the top. He’s borderline OCD, so he’s probably scrubbing his mouth out with bleach right now.”

  “You guys had a fight?” I looked over my shoulder.

  “Not really. His apology to me for interrupting us was bullshit, so I called him on it. It’s not my fault he lives his life like a college bachelor and not an adult with responsibilities. Until he does that, he doesn’t get to lecture me on dating you.”

  “We’re dating?” I turned around like I’d been hit by lightning, and my grip on the spoon weakened.

  The spoon clattered to the floor, splashing sauce everywhere.

  Jake was halfway through uncorking the wine, and he froze to look down at the spoon. “I was about to say yes, but I’m not really sure how you’ll take that answer right now.”

  I bent down for the spoon and turned to the sink. “I mean, I thought we were talking about it. It’s presumptuous, don’t you think? What if we decide this is a bad idea?”

  “We already know this is a bad idea, but no great story ever started with someone saying they had a good idea. If they did, you’d never have flashed me that night.”

  “No, correction.” I turned and pointed the now-clean spoon at him. “Most great stories start with “I have a great idea!” except the idea is almost always a dreadful one.”

  “Fine. No great story ever started with a good idea that didn’t turn out to be a bad one.”

  “There we go.” I gave the food one last stir and grabbed a wet cloth to clean the floor.

  Jake popped the wine with a tiny pop-hiss from the bottle. “Kind of like how we met. I bet you were told it was a good idea.”

  “How did you know?” I drawled, pulling two plates down.

  “Because, in hindsight, it really was a dreadful idea.” He poured the w
ine, then put the bottle in my fridge like it was his own.

  Dear God. Is this what dating felt like? It’d been a long-ass time since I’d done that.

  And why was this so very comfortable for him to just stroll in and pour wine?

  Aside from the fact it was wine, of course.

  I turned off the stove and dished up my latest creation. Jake was already sitting at my kitchen table when I turned around, so I set one plate in front of him and the other opposite him for me. After grabbing cutlery and passing some to him with a smile, I took my seat, and we both started eating.

  We were only a few mouthfuls in when he started speaking.

  “This is good,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I smiled and looked down at my plate.

  “So. What worries you about us dating?”

  I choked on some rice. I banged my fist against my chest, and through my watery eyes, I could see a chuckling Jake get up and get me a glass of water.

  “Here. Can we finish the conversation before you die on me?”

  I took a long drink from the water and wiped my eyes with my finger. “Um, wow, that came out of nowhere.”

  “Not really. The entire point of tonight’s conversation is to talk through our relationship, so I thought I’d start.”

  “You could have given a girl a heads up!” I had some more water. My throat hurt now.

  Jake looked at me for a moment, holding his wine glass. “Okay, here. Let’s talk about us.”

  “Can I have a minute?”

  “Spitfire, if I had my way, we’d go straight to the fucking. You’re the one who wants to talk. I’m pretty damn sure we’re not having sex until we’ve talked about this, so do a man a favor and get on with it. Especially if you’re going to wear jeans that tight.”

  Were my jeans tight? I didn’t know. They were just…jeans.

  “I know you’re worried about us seeing each other.” He stabbed his fork into a piece of sausage. “So, talk to me about it.”

  I set my fork down and sipped my wine. This sucked. I might have been the one who said we had to talk, but that didn’t mean I was good talking about my feelings.

  Hello. I ran a hotel while my best friends handled the feelings stuff. I’d had a chance to go into business with Peyton for Pick-A-Dick, but I’d turned it down.

  “My biggest concern is how we handle it at work,” I admitted. “It’s already awkward with you coming in and changing some things. And, let’s be honest, it’s been two weeks. We’ve spent a lot of time together, but it’s not really long enough to be the basis of a serious relationship.”

  He nodded slowly. “I happen to agree with you there. That said, the solution is simple. We do our best to keep our private relationship away from work until we know for sure that it’ll all work out.”

  “You don’t think it’ll work out?”

  “I didn’t say that. But you can imagine how uncomfortable the staff would be if we were suddenly in a relationship after two weeks. Besides—they don’t need to know. It’s not their business.”

  “Them being uncomfortable is what I’m worried about.”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” He put down his fork and leaned forward, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Really. We don’t have to tell anyone anything while we’re still figuring it out ourselves.”

  My lips curved to a smile. “Good. But that means we have to keep it completely away from work, and you haven’t been very good at that so far.”

  “I can keep it separate. But that might mean I’m going to spend a lot of time here. With you. Naked.”

  “I’ve had worse offers.”

  “Sound a little bit more enthusiastic, would you?”

  I clapped my hands together and squealed. “Oh, yay!”

  “Now, you’re just being a pain in my ass.”

  “On the bright side,” I said, picking my fork back up. “The clumsiest thing I’ve done today is drop a spoon.”

  Jake paused. “You almost knocked over the lamp in our office.”

  “It was in my way.”

  “You threw the office phone at it.”

  I sighed. “I didn’t throw it at the lamp. I threw it in the direction of the lamp. It’s not my fault the person on the other end was stupid or that the lamp was in the phone’s way.”

  “You have excuses for everything.”

  “No, I have a reason for everything. There’s a big difference.”

  “Is there a reason we’re still sitting at this table, and you’re not naked on your bed?”

  I blinked at him. “Yes. We’re talking about our relationship.”

  Jake sipped his wine. “I feel like, right now, we’ve talked enough.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He stood up and walked around the table. My gaze followed him like he was something shiny, and I was a goddamn magpie. He grabbed hold of my hands and yanked me up. My thigh grazed the table, and if it’d hit any harder, it would have knocked something off.

  Crisis one: averted.

  Jake wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. “We can talk more later. We can figure it out. Right now, I want you.”

  “My—my dinner is getting cold.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “No.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “A little,” I admitted. “I’ve never planned sex. It usually happens spontaneously.”

  “I can do spontaneous.”

  “This is already—”

  He bent down and, grabbing me by the thighs, picked me up and hauled me over his shoulder. I screamed and grabbed hold of him, equal parts scared and impressed by his strength.

  “Bedroom?”

  “Upstairs.”

  “Really? I thought we were going down.”

  “Jake.”

  “Which door, Mellie?” he demanded, stopping at the top of the stairs. “This one?”

  He opened the door to my messy closet. “Definitely not.”

  “Not that there was ever a mood,” I said. “But, you’re killing it a little. It’s the next door.” I pointed to my bedroom.

  He opened the door to my room and hauled me inside. “There was a mood. There was a very fucking good mood last night before we were interrupted.”

  “I know that, but now it’s awkward.”

  “You’re the awkward one here, spitfire. All I keep thinking is how quickly I can turn you on as much as I did last night.”

  To be honest, that was a test I was interested in.

  He slid me down his body until my feet touched the ground in front of my bed. One hand went to the back of my neck; the other clamped around my waist. “I already know your neck is sensitive,” he murmured, dipping his head and brushing his lips against my neck.

  That was unfair.

  “And you like it when I kiss it, even though you pretend you don’t,” he continued, kissing my neck a few more times. Short, hot, soft kisses that made me squirm against him.

  This was definitely playing dirty.

  “So, I’m pretty sure you’re already on your way there,” he said right into my ear. He kissed along my jaw until he reached the corner of my mouth. “And if not, you’re about to be.”

  He kissed me before I could respond. And he didn’t go in slow.

  He kissed me hard, almost ruthlessly. It felt so damn good I couldn’t fight him, I couldn’t dispute it. All I could do was grab hold of his shirt and kiss him back just as hard.

  It was like all the things I’d felt for him in the past several days all came to a head. The lust burst through my veins. Desire rippled across my skin, and shivers came out of nowhere until I was practically trembling in his arms.

  My lungs were tight and my heart was fast and everything tingled. The passion I felt in his kiss and his touch was more than enough to turn me on at a lightning speed.

  He broke the kiss, pushing me back to the bed. He tore his t-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor before he covered my body with h
is and kissed me again. My fingers went wild, tracing a map of invisible lines across his back.

  My back arched, my hips moved, and my nails scratched as his kiss got deeper and deeper.

  He stopped. Yanked me up. Pulled off my shirt. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Not as it fell to the floor or as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  I wanted him.

  I wanted him as he moved down the bed, his lips doing the same to my body. Down my neck, across the dip of my collarbone—over the swell of my tits. He even flicked his tongue out, teasing me as my body reacted to him as if it was made to do so.

  His hands reached the waistband of my jeans, and he pulled them down my legs oh-so-slowly, peeling the material away from my skin until my legs were free. He did the same with his own jeans, except his fell a lot quicker than mine.

  My eyes fell to his cock. Hard and thick, the outline of it against his bright-red boxer briefs was obviously. My tongue flicked out to wet my lips, and as I met his eyes, pure desire shone back at me, but his smile was wolfish and sexy.

  It was only seconds before he was back over me, kissing me, but this time, he was between my legs.

  My legs bent at the knee, teasing wrapping around his body. His cock already pressed firm against my clit, and bursts of heat kept flying through my body like I was about to combust.

  He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. Neither did I. All I needed was the crazy rush of having our almost-naked bodies together.

  I needed our totally naked bodies together.

  Brazenly, I reached down and grabbed the waistband of his boxers. He grinned against my lips and whispered, “Condom?”

  Oh. Shit. Did I have a freaking condom?

  Jake laughed, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. “I got it.”

  I relaxed, throwing my forearm over my eyes. Thank god one of us was prepared.

  We both knew it wouldn’t be me.

  He got up and retrieved a condom from the pocket of his jeans. I watched—with way too much enthusiasm—as he kicked off his underwear, opened the condom, and positioned it at the end of his cock.

  My eyes followed his fingers as they rolled it on. I squirmed, the wetness between my legs uncomfortable thanks to the silky material of my panties. Jake’s eyes dropped to the apex of my thighs, and I knew he saw that I couldn’t sit still.