Chapter Five

 

 

Harper wasn’t sure what to think about Jacob’s apartment.

She’d assumed that they’d be going to a hotel, like last time. His actual home was more intimate and she balked at the bottom of the stairs outside his adorable coffee shop—Jacob’s Cuppa Joe—in case he wanted to go to her hotel.

Anonymous.

Now wasn’t the time to focus on the big picture window of the café, or the door with the WELCOME sign. She could suggest that he clearly post his hours and perhaps create some sort of decoration for the window to urge customers inside.

She needed him to succeed. He kept going on about how she’d inspired him and she didn’t remember what she’d done to be Angel worthy.

This was something temporary, though they fit on many levels. Harper loved Jacob’s sense of humor, his dance moves, the way he cupped her face to thoroughly kiss her.

“What?” he asked, two steps ahead of her.

She searched his face. “Are you sure?”

He tugged her up the cement block stairs to the top landing and unlocked the door to his flat. Nerves made her stomach jump.

Opening the door and flipping on the light, she stepped inside and turned around to see it all in one gulp and then slowed to take his personal space in, in slower sips. She hadn’t expected to be given the gift of the actual man and it caught her off guard.

A foyer, the living area to her left, the kitchen to her right, a hall that probably went to a bedroom and a bathroom. Paintings of the ocean—navy, gray and blues—hung above a blue couch. A coffee table with driftwood legs was centered between the couch and the television stand.

A blue candle, with a rope tied around it, was in the middle of the table. Books were piled on the stand next to the couch, and a lamp shaped like a dolphin. In the corner was a four-foot tall Christmas tree with a few presents wrapped beneath.

The kitchen had been painted white, with white appliances, and the counter had two bar stools snugged under. A bowl of fruit was on the side closest to the door.

It was welcoming and warm, like Jacob. She would feel right at home on that couch with a cup of tea. “It’s perfect,” she said.

“Really?” He seemed pleased by her approval and rewarded her with a kiss. “Can I get you a sweater, or warm clothes?”

“I wouldn’t mind cleaning up—but then, Jacob, what I really want to see is your bedroom.”

His eyes darkened to near black.

“Too direct?” She took a slow step toward him, not recognizing this woman who had been dormant for so long.

“Not at all.” His biceps flexed beneath the crimson shirt.

“Too fast?” Her breath’s came quicker as she reached him—he’d backed into the kitchen counter.

“No, Harper,” he rumbled, a hand dragging through his hair. “It’s been a year.”

He’d waited for her? Then he had to be hungry, just as hungry as she was, and it was time to feast.

“Give me a minute to freshen up?” She had him pinned against the counter. He gestured to the hall to their left. She grabbed her purse.

“There’s a clean towel in the cabinet below the sink. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

She pinned her hair up and quickly showered the sand from her feet, using his minty toothpaste and her toothbrush before wandering out of the bathroom in just her towel.

Soft Christmas music played in the background, and he’d lit candles that smelled like cinnamon.

His eyes caressed her face, her bare shoulders, her legs as he wordlessly passed her by to dip into the shower. Two glasses of red wine waited on the counter and she picked one up and wandered into his living room.

Pictures of him with a younger woman who had a similar smile—was that Jane? Both with thick dark hair and brown, brown eyes. Them as children with their parents, and Jacob with an older woman with short gray hair. She guessed it would be Nancy, his aunt.

She sipped her wine and surveyed his taste in music—country? That was a surprise, but not a deal breaker. His stacks of books were a random selection of Sci-Fi. The shower turned off and within moments Jacob stepped out of the bathroom.

He hadn’t bothered with a towel and she almost dropped her wine glass.

The man was gorgeous. Dark hair on his sculpted chest led down to lean hips and muscled thighs, tan skin from beach living the perfect shade of gold. Semi-hard, his length was impressive.

“Hello, dahling,” she intoned, bringing her eyes up to his.

He winked and held out his hand for her to join him. She set her wine glass down after another quick drink and turned to take his fingers.

He brought her close, tugging on her towel in a dare.

Naked, in his living room?

Outside of her comfort zone, she nodded anyway. Wasn’t this what she and Jacob were all about? Pushing the boundaries of expectation?

He flung her towel aside and she stepped back, her breasts heavy under his perusal. She kept a sassy smile as she bravely turned around in a full circle before him.

He kissed her knuckles and wrapped his arm around her back in a two-step across the living room floor—then he swayed with her down the hall to a song about being home for Christmas.

How could she feel so connected to this man that she didn’t know at all, and yet, he felt like the place where she belonged. Ridiculous, she told herself.  That was not what she needed right now. Right now she and Jacob were about escape.

He switched on the lights to his bedroom—a man’s space in dark wood and blue, the queen-sized bed covered in a quilted blue comforter with two pillows. Nothing fancy, but inviting to the touch.

He reached for a soft lamp and turned off the main light, then folded back the comforter. All of this time, they hadn’t kissed, but their bodies had been close and so now, when he bent her back to lie on his bed, she was ready for him—beyond ready. She spread her fingers through his hair and pulled him down to her.

 

 

Jacob, in all of his fantasies of his Angel, hadn’t fully realized how beautiful she would be, her blonde hair spread over his pillowcase, her blue-gray eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth inviting and sooooo very passionate.

She was here, with him. Her pale skin—London city girl—silky and scented. Coconut? Her heated kiss demanded and caressed, much like Harper herself. Giving, wanting, taking, sharing.

Languid kisses led to passionate kisses and they couldn’t reach everywhere fast enough. She beneath him—her flesh heated under his palm, slick with desire. He’d dreamed of this, remembered this, and now he rolled so that she was astride him.

He anchored her there, keeping his hand on her hip. He traced the curve of her thigh and the bone on her knee, then behind to the sensitive skin.

She squirmed and laughed—then dropped forward so that when they kissed, her hair spread over his face and shoulders and the points of her breasts pressed into his chest.

He was so near to entering her but so not ready—not yet.

They had all night, and he wanted to draw the evening out and make love several times before Christmas morning.

Harper evidently had other ideas as she aligned herself over him and took control. “It’s been a year of foreplay,” she whispered, sliding down his length and feeling like heaven. “I need you now.”

One night wouldn’t be enough.

As they came together in mind-shattering pleasure, Jacob knew that forever would not be enough.