“I think we should just spend all our time right here,” I sigh as I lay my head contentedly on Jake’s muscular chest.
“No argument here,” Jake replies as he absently strokes my back, tracing his fingers softly over the skin. “It’d help if you stopped sneaking out during the night,” he points out, and I don’t argue. I know he’s right, I just hadn’t realized that he’d found me out.
We’re all tangled up in the sheets, our legs wrapped around each other, our bodies so close that there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. It’s only been a few days since our lives were turned upside down but, lying in bed together in Jake’s makeshift studio above his father’s body shop, all of that feels like a world away.
“Winters, I can hear the cogs in your brain turning,” Jake shifts us both so we’re facing each other. “What’s up?” he asks, his voice soft and full of concern.
I look in his brown eyes and, for a moment, I forget about the reality of what our lives have become; the reality that we only have a few short weeks together before the Bleeding Angels come for Jake. I reach across to trace the line of dark stubble along his strong jaw-line and wonder again at how long it took me to realize that my best friend was so much more than that. Now that I know what Jake means to me, I’m even more scared of losing him.
“Just thinking,” I reply, shrugging. I don’t need to say any more than that—his eyes show his understanding and he pulls me tighter to him. He knows exactly what I’ve been thinking about.
“We have a month,” he reminds me, “We can’t spend all the time we have thinking about what’s going to happen at the end of it. It’ll just drive us both crazy.”
“I know, I know,” I concede; he is right after all. “But we can’t just forget about what’s going on, what’s going to happen. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we’re going to need to start making plans.”
“Plans for what, Aimee?” he asks, suddenly frustrated, sitting up in bed abruptly and releasing his hold on me.
“To get out of here,” I remind him.
“Okay, let’s say for the sake of argument that there was any way that was possible—how would we do it?” Jake asks, getting out of bed and pulling on his crumpled jeans from the floor. He starts pacing around the studio floor, looking anywhere but at me.
“All we need is a car. We just drive, get out of this town,” I tell him. It’s so hard for us to have this conversation, and I if it’s going to get any easier.
“And what stops the Angels from coming after us?” Jake asks, as he starts fiddling with the coffee filter.
“We have to try,” I say, trying not to wring my hands.
“Right.” He slams the jug into the machine and leans over the counter of what serves as his makeshift kitchen. “And once we manage to get out of town—that’s assuming the Angels haven’t followed us and dragged us back, or worse—what do we do for money? They took everything,” he reminds me.
“I know that, Jake.” For the first time, my voice grows louder and harsher. Rationally, I know that he’s still in shock over the events that took place only a couple of nights ago and I’m aware that he’s probably as scared as I am over what’s going to happen to him and to us. But I refuse to be his punching bag or the outlet for his frustrations. “I know they took everything; every damn dollar that I have been saving, I was there, remember? I was there when they burned my home to the ground. I haven’t forgotten, Jake.” I try to keep my voice steady, although it’s threatening to break at any time.
He doesn’t reply straight away. Instead, I see his chest rise and fall as he takes some deep breaths, getting himself back under control. “I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments as the silence stretches out between us.
“It’s alright,” I reply automatically, suddenly not in the mood to talk about how screwed up our lives are. I jump out of bed and grab a band to pile my dark hair up on my head, not even looking in Jake’s direction. “I’m going to take a shower,” I throw back over my shoulder as I head to the bathroom. Jake fitted it out himself when he’d decided to move out of the Summers home and into the body shop.
I lean my head against the cool glass of the mirror, trying to get myself under control. I can feel my heart racing and my breath starting to come in gasps. I think about the fact that we have less than a month before the Angels come for Jake and we can’t even talk about what’s going to happen without fighting. I’ve suffered from panic attacks for years, and I know the only way to get past them is to breathe deeply, to try to calm myself down. It only takes a few breaths today—it’s not a bad one.
I turn the shower on as hot as I can stand it and stare at my reflection. Green, catlike eyes stare back at me and I wonder if it’s just my imagination or if they look older than they did only a few short days ago. My vision is obscured by the steam settling over the mirror as the bathroom heats up. I shake my head, reminding myself that wallowing in how hard things are isn’t going to help anyone; not me, and definitely not Jake.
Stepping into the shower I gasp quickly as the hot water hits my skin, but it’s exactly what I need. The sound of the pounding water goes some way toward drowning out the nagging, anxious voices circling round in my mind. I pull the band out of my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders before I duck my head under the beating water. I close my eyes, starting to work the shampoo through my hair and I try to concentrate on the simple task of showering. It’s comforting to focus on standard, boring, day-to-day activities. Concentrating on them stops me from thinking about everything I wish I could forget about.
There’s a noise behind me that catches me off guard and I whip around, almost losing my footing on the slippery, wet floor, but a strong arm reaches out to steady me. I’ve been a little jumpy since the fire. I blink the shampoo foam out of my eyes to find Jake standing naked in front of me, his dark brown eyes looking even darker than usual. His proximity makes every part of my body feel like it’s standing to attention, as if I’ve been half-asleep until this moment.
“I’m sorry,” Jake says quietly, reaching out his hand and running his thumb over my cheek, an action that has become our shorthand.
“I know,” I reply, breathing out softly as my body responds to him immediately.
“No, really,” he insists, his voice serious. “I acted like an idiot. It’s not fair for me to take out the way I feel on you. Especially when you’re the reason we have this time together at all,” he says, leaning his head towards mine until my forehead touches his full lips.
“It’s okay.” My voice is breathless as his touch works its magic on me, giving me goosebumps and a feeling of warmth in my belly all at the same time. “I’m scared too,” I assure him. Even though he hasn’t said the words, I know that’s how he’s feeling. We’ve been friends for too long for me not to know Jake’s signs and tells.
“You know what scares me most?” he asks after a moment as he wraps his arms around me. He pulls me towards him so we’re skin to skin as the water keeps beating down around us.
“What?” I reply, laying my head against his chest and enjoying being safe in his arms.
“The idea of losing you,” he replies, holding me even tighter against him, as if he were trying to imprint my body against his. “The thought of losing you terrifies me—more so than me becoming an Angel, more so than anything they could do to me.” His voice wavers a little as he speaks.
“That’s not going to happen,” I assure him, pulling away just far enough for me to look up at him and for my green eyes to meet his brown ones. “You’re not going to lose me.” My voice is firm and filled with a certainty that I wish I felt. “Kiss me,” I whisper, lifting my face up towards his, and I don’t have to wait long before his lips meet mine.
The effect of his kisses on me is the same every time. I used to think that when people said they went weak at the knees, it was just a figure of speech. Now I know differently. That’s exactly what Jake’s kisses do to me. They make my whole body tremble with a need I had never even realized existed before that first time that our lips met. It’s as if he were the answer to a question I hadn’t even asked.
“You’re so goddam beautiful, Winters,” Jake says softly against my lips. He skims his hands up from my waist towards my breasts and I feel my nipples harden immediately as he brushes his hands over them. The ache blooming between my thighs is almost painful. “How far did you get?” he asks, looking at me with an expression on his face that just makes me want to melt.
“Hmmm?” I find it difficult to concentrate on what he’s saying while my whole body is buzzing with need.
“The soap.” He nods towards the bar that I’m holding in my hand. “How far did you get?” he repeats, a mischievous grin starting to spread across his face.
“Not far,” I reply, looking up at him from under my long lashes, knowing exactly what he has in mind.
“Well, I guess we’re just going to have to get you all cleaned up.” Jake sighs as if it were a chore, but the slow, deliberate way that he takes the soap bar and works it into a lather between his hands says differently. “Turn around,” he instructs, his voice level.
I obey automatically. When it comes to these moments, I don’t have any qualms about letting Jake take the lead. I trust him completely and all the hang-ups I have over my body all disappear when he touches me. He starts working the soap over my back, from my shoulder blades down my spine, just skimming away as he meets the top of my butt and I feel myself lean back against him unconsciously. His slick hands against my body are so erotic I can already feel the wetness between my legs and the ache there becoming more persistent. I can hear Jake’s breathing behind me becoming more ragged, mirroring my own. But I can’t think about that for long before I lose the ability to think clearly at all. His hands make their way up from my waist, over my belly, and up towards my breasts again.
“Jake,” I moan softly as he slides his hands over my slick breasts, pausing to squeeze my hard nipples gently. I lean against him, needing to touch him, to feel him, and I’m rewarded with his hardness against my ass.
“Looks like someone’s getting a little impatient,” Jake whispers against my hair as I push against him, rubbing him with my pert behind. The growl that reverberates in his throat tells me that he’s just as impatient as I am.
“I can wait,” I reply, struggling to keep my voice from betraying me. I peer over my shoulder at Jake and see his smile as he takes up the challenge. It’s a game that we have started to play. It came about completely unintentionally, but being the competitive two that we are, neither ever wants to let the other win. We drive each other crazy, touching, kissing, sucking, teasing. And whoever asks for release or reaches their satisfaction loses. To be fair, if you lost the game, you were really still a winner.
“Glad to hear it Miss Winters,” Jake replies teasingly. “We still have to get you cleaned up. Can’t have you showing up for lunch with the Summers clan all dirty.” He puts extra emphasis on the last word and I giggle in spite of myself.
“No, we wouldn’t want that,” I reply solemnly. Although I can’t keep the twinkle out of my eye as I snake my hand around behind me to grasp the hardness of his shaft. I enjoy the looks of shock and pleasure that pass across his face in quick succession.
But I know Jake well enough to realize he’s not going to let me get away with that without retaliating. He guides me to turn around so we’re facing each other again and I drink in the sight before me. The muscular, lean body looks like it’s just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. I wonder again at how much time we wasted not touching and kissing each other. It’s hard to imagine why it took me so long to see what was right in front of me all this time.
Jake’s soapy hands make their way down from my hard nipples, over my flat stomach, and towards the dark mound of hair between my thighs. But he stops just before his destination, letting his hand drift aimlessly over the line of my pelvic bone, from one side of my hips to the other. I shiver as his other hand reaches up and gently tweaks my nipples, softly first and then harder and harder, teetering on that line between pain and pleasure.
My hand shoots out towards Jake’s cock and I close my hands around him, feeling how rock hard he is. I look up at him, daring him to say something or make a move as I start to run my hand up and down his shaft, squeezing and tugging in the way that I know drives him wild. Jake closes his eyes. He looks like he’s concentrating on regulating his breathing, but he’s fighting a losing battle. I can feel how desperate he is for this release.
I’m confident that I’m going to win this round when Jake starts to slip his hand over the mound of curls between my thighs. Sifting through them with his fingers, diving deeper, until he touches the slickness that he’s created there. He locks eyes with me, raising an eyebrow. “What do we have here?” he asks, taunting me with my own desire.
I can barely breathe as he strokes the tops of my thighs, making me even wetter and even needier than I was before. I sway a little on my feet as Jake steadies me, gripping my ass, squeezing my cheeks and whispering in my ear how much he wants to taste me.
“That’s cheating,” I pant out at him. He knows how much his dirty talk turns me on.
“No one said this was a fair fight,” Jake notes, before he closes my mouth in a hungry kiss.
Gone are the soft, hesitant, teasing touches. His lips press down on mine hard, telling me without words that I am his and he is mine. I reach up to his head, tangling my fingers in his hair as the kiss gets even deeper—deeper and hotter. When we pull apart we’re both breathing heavily and the water is still hammering down on us, making our bodies slip and slide against each other.
Before I have time to process what’s happening or to prepare myself, Jake slips his fingers down further between my legs and delves into the darkness there. He strokes the wetness and I moan against him, pulling his lips against mine again, needing to be in contact with as much of his body as possible. I trap his bottom lip between my teeth and bite down gently. Jake pulls me tighter against him, the tenderness between us becoming rough and exactly what we need. It’s a product of everything that we’ve been through—an affirmation that we’re alive and we’re together.
Jake inserts two fingers inside of me and I have to hold onto his shoulders as the action physically rocks me. I bite down on his shoulder—not enough to draw blood, but just enough to leave a mark. Jake groans as he strokes me, touching me in exactly the way that I need him to. “You’re so wet,” he breathes out reverently. “So wet and so ready for me.” He finds my clit, rubbing it with his index finger until I cry out as my body is rocked with pleasure. I’m slowly coming back down to earth when I realize my climax means Jake has won the game yet again. But right now I don’t have the energy to care. All I want is for him to be inside of me—there’s nothing else that I need more than that in this moment.
I reach down between us to grasp his cock and, not for the first time, I wonder at how the sight of him, like this, turns me on more than I would ever have thought possible. I can see from Jake’s expression that he’s pleased with himself for winning again. But that’s short-lived—his need and want match my own.
“I want you inside of me,” I tell him, not pulling any punches, not even trying to hide how much I want him, how much I need him.
Jake nods once, as if he doesn’t trust his voice. Without a word he turns me around so I’m facing away from him again and towards the wall. He pushes me towards the tiled wall and I put my hands out to support myself. I feel Jake’s hardness brush against my ass and I push back on him. Jake reaches around me, diving into my dark wetness, stroking me until I’m slick with my own juices again. I’m so ready for him I feel like I might explode.
I take hold of his cock and start to guide him towards me from behind, towards the place where I need him. Jake pushes my back down gently and I bend over obediently as I squirm, wiggling my ass against his hardness. I can feel his tip against my opening, pausing there as he rubs himself into my wetness and I struggle against him. I hear Jake’s intake of breath before he dives into me and we both cry out as he buries himself deep within.
He starts slowly, inching his way back until only the tip is left inside and I moan and squirm, trying to push myself onto him. But he holds my hips still, steadying them and preventing me from moving until he’s ready to submerge himself inside of me again. He pushes harder this time, moving deeper, and my back arches as the sensation of being filled up overtakes me. Still keeping hold of my hips, Jake slowly withdraws again until I wonder if he’s going to take himself out of me. Then he waits what feels like the longest few seconds of my life until he rams himself back in.
The force knocks the breath out of me, and that combined with his hand, which is now rubbing my pussy, turns me into a hot mess. “Jake, I need you, I’m close.” I push myself up against him, so that we both feel everything, every centimeter of each other, every part of the other.
“Thank fuck for that!” Jake replies, breathing out hard in relief and I laugh as I realize that he’s just as much on the edge as I am.
He almost pulls all the way out of me again and then slams back into me, picking up the pace, pumping in and out faster and faster. I’m moving too, leaning forwards and then backwards, matching my movements with his, keeping time with him. I can feel myself building towards the inevitable; my whole body is getting warmer and warmer as we create our own heat.
“Come for me, Aimee.” Jake’s voice comes in short gasps as he pumps inside of me, once, twice, and as he pushes into me again I come apart.
A feeling of intense pleasure passes through my body—slowly and incredibly quickly at the same time. I buck and squirm as my climax overtakes me and if Jake hadn’t been holding me around the waist I don’t think that my legs would have had the strength to keep me upright. Jake lets out a growl that seems to come from deep within his chest—a basic, primal noise signaling that he’s found his own intense release.
We stand like that together, letting the water run over us for what must be a couple of minutes as we get our breath back. Taking deep gulps of air, we wait for our heart rates to go back to normal. Eventually, I feel Jake start to withdraw. He moves out of me slowly, reluctantly, and I’m left with the familiar feeling of emptiness when he leaves. As if sensing my feelings Jake turns me around, pushing away the wet hair that is clinging to my cheeks, and plants a gentle kiss on my mouth.
“Your water bill is going to be huge,” I say after a beat. We both laugh as he envelops me in his arms and holds me tight towards him.
“That’s okay.” I feel the vibrations of his voice against his chest. “You’re worth it.”
“Wow, that’s big of you,” I joke, playfully pushing him away. “You’re the one that came in here when I was just minding my own business and had your way with me,” I point out, doing my best Scarlett O’Hara impression.
“Is that what happened?” Jake asks, tilting his head and grinning at me. “I was just trying to help out with your showering.” He holds his hands up in his own defense.
“Right,” I tell him, nonplussed. “So are you going to let me get on with it so we can go have lunch at your folks’?” I ask. But my words don’t have the weight I had intended. My stomach rumbles when I think about the amazing spread I know Jake’s mom will be putting on.
“I’d rather watch,” Jake replies, smiling his effortlessly sexy smile.
“I bet you would,” I say under my breath. I grab the soap that Jake had let fall to the floor and start working it over his chest. “We’re going to be late,” I inform him as he gives me a questioning look before he starts to mimic my gesture, washing me as I do the same to him.
“Are you nervous?” he asks nonchalantly, but I can tell from the way that he studies my reaction that it’s not a throw-away question.
“Of lunch at your parents’ place? I’ve probably spent more time at the Summers home than I have in my own house,” I remind him. I ignore the fact that I know it’s not what he meant.
“Winters, you know you’re not getting off that easy.” He stills my hands, which were rubbing the soap over his strong chest. “You haven’t seen your mom since everything kicked off,” he says quietly.
“I know, I know,” I respond, reaching around him to grab the conditioner just so that I don’t have to look him directly in the eye. “I’m looking forward to seeing her. Really,” I tell him, summoning a smile.
“So why have you been avoiding her for the past few days?” Jake asks the obvious question.
“I’m done, I think.” I stand under the full force of the shower for a few seconds to wash off the last of the soap. Then I squeeze past Jake and open the screen, hopping out of the bathroom.
I know it’s immature to finish a difficult conversation by walking away, but I just can’t deal with analyzing my relationship with my mother on top of everything else. I roughly towel dry my hair and quickly slip on my clothes before Jake even makes it out of the bathroom. I hear the sound of the rushing water stop, followed by Jake’s wet feet as he walks towards me.
“Aimee, I’m here,” he says, placing a hand on each shoulder. “I’m here. Talk to me. I want to help you fix this.” His eyes are so full of sincerity that I feel like I might break in two.
“I know, I know you do,” I tell him. “It’s just not something that can be fixed like a broken tail light. It’s going to take some time.” I shrug, as if there’s nothing more to it. “You better get ready,” I add as I go up onto my tip-toes to give him a swift kiss on his lips before heading back into the bathroom and trying, ineffectually, to clear some of the steam off of the mirror.
My mother had been in a pretty near catatonic state since my dad had died. It had been over nine years, closing in on ten, since she had been anything that resembled a normal, functioning person. A person that could speak and understand and react to what was going on around them—that wasn’t my mother anymore. She was a shadow, living in the past, hiding herself away somewhere to keep the hurt at bay. That was, until the Angels had come to our home and burned it to the ground. Only a few short days ago she had spoken. I’d heard her voice for the first time in years. She had been aware, conscious of the events playing out in front of her eyes.
She had woken up when I needed her most, but she hadn’t been able to help. She hadn’t been able to get past her own grief and pain to help me, to stand with me against the man that had killed her husband and my father. I haven’t seen her since that night, since Sally and Bill took her in. She’s my mother and I love her, I remind myself as I look in the mirror. She didn’t mean to abandon me when our lives fell apart all those years ago. It’s not her fault. I repeat the words in my head again and again until they sound true. Or at least until they sound like less of a lie.