In The Heat Of The Moment
JULES
AFTER SPENDING THREE DAYS AT the hospital, Jake brought Mimi home with around-the-clock hospice care.
The cancer had metastasized into the lungs. She didn’t have long, and I prayed she made it until the wedding. Not for me, but for her, and Rory, and Jake.
With Mimi settled in her room, Jake and I had eaten and showered and next on the list was sleep, but neither of us could fall asleep.
It was seven in the evening, and the sun was still shining way too bright.
I looked over at him stretched out on the bed as he stared at the ceiling. There was so much I wanted to say but didn’t know where to start. There was so much I wanted to be able to do for him, and nothing I could. Nothing except be here for him.
“Tell me a story,” I whispered.
Jake put an arm behind his head. When he did, his shirt lifted. I wanted to lick the smooth stripe of skin exposed between the hem of the material and his belt, but I settled for running a finger along it.
He had been quiet for most of the day, and I knew he had a lot on his mind. Between organizing Mimi’s care and also calling Rory and telling her she should think about coming home very soon. I understood why.
At my touch though, he shivered and moved a little closer. He turned to look at me, and the circles under his eyes conveyed his lack of sleep. “I’ve told you all of them.”
I spread my fingers flat on his firm belly and rubbed in slow circles. “You can’t possibly have. Tell me the craziest one.”
Jake’s sigh sounded annoyed, but I knew he was anything but. He loved telling me stories about the ER as much as I loved hearing them. There was no patient confidentiality violation, as he never mentioned any names.
I rested my head in the palm of my hand and studied him. The way his chest rose and fell as I stroked his stomach, the way his eyes seemed to grow a little less dim, and the way his frown lines eased.
Slowly, tentatively, I tugged his shirt a little higher to bare him to me. “One more,” I pleaded. I wanted to take his mind off Mimi, and right now this was all I had.
“Fine,” he sighed again. “Once upon a time, there were three little doctors . . .”
“Stop!” I protested with laughter in my tone. “Don’t go any further.”
His brow rose. “What? You don’t want to hear about doctors, only patients?”
“No, that’s not it.”
He turned to face me and mimicked my pose. “Then what? You don’t think doctors are sexy enough for once upon a times.”
My hand went to his belt buckle, and I slipped the leather from it. “As a matter of fact, I think they’re very very sexy. It’s the little part that I disagree with.”
He glanced down at his manhood. “Oh,” he said. “You have a valid point. Then how about this: Once upon a time, there were three big doctors . . .”
“Jake, don’t go any further with that or I’ll have to turn that opening line into a nursery rhyme, and I guarantee you won’t like my ending.”
He gave me two raised brows.
I started to lower his zipper and raised my own brow. When he said nothing, I went on. “Once upon a time there were three big doctors, they were sooooo big one couldn’t fit in the ER, one couldn’t fit in his scrubs, and the one named Dr. Kiss . . .”
“Okay, okay,” he halted me. “Stop right there. I’ll tell you a real one. This might not be the craziest story, but it’s one I’ve never told anyone about.”
Intrigued, I stopped lowering his zipper. “Keep going.”
He looked down at my hand. “I will when you do.”
With a grin, I slowly eased the rest of his zipper down, and I could feel his cock pulse from outside the denim.
He flipped onto his back and resumed his position with his hands behind his head. Clearly what I had in mind was more than acceptable. “It was my first week of residency when a woman in her late twenties came in the department crying hysterically. She had, she told me, something on her bottom and it was growing larger by the day.”
I slipped my hand inside his jeans. “Bottom?” I laughed.
“Ass,” he corrected, looking over at me. “That feels good, and she said bottom, not me.”
I worked my fingers around the tight denim, shoving it down his thighs. “Got it, on both counts.”
“Anyway, I was expecting to see a small lump or spot that needed to be biopsied, so I asked her to lower her pants so I could take a look. As I bent down to peer at the spot, I poked it and something erupted, and I swore it was looking at me.” He said this arching as he lifted his hips to allow me to undress him.
“What was it?” I cringed.
He looked over at me again, his eyes hooded and filled with desire. “A very large worm that had burrowed into her skin. And I vomited right there in the exam room.”
“You did not?”
“I did. My attending ripped me a new one for it, too. It was the first and last time I ever threw up, in front of a patient, anyway.”
My breathing was ragged. “There were other times then?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, more than a few. My first year of residency was rough.”
I kissed him on the lips. Soft. Sweet. Intimate. “You’ll have to tell me about them, later.”
He kissed me back. Hungry. Desperate. Needy. “Yeah, later.”
That’s when I dragged my mouth down his throat. Lower. And lower. Kissing a path down to his chest, the smooth skin above his navel, and then down to his cock, I took him in my hands. Full. Thick. Beautiful. The crown of his cock was swollen and dripping . . . with desire for me.
I licked that drop, and then I stared up at him. For some reason, I couldn’t look away as his eyes flashed in the sunlight. His beauty was so strong, his body so incredibly perfect, and his being made just for me.
He was watching me with a predatory look in his eyes. And then as if anxious, he cupped the back of my head and tugged me closer—closer to his cock.
Gripping the base of his cock with my hands, I tucked his broad head into mouth and sucked gently as I pulled him in. The sharp inhalation that was audible in the quiet told me he liked what I was doing.
Those butterflies I got every time we were together flitted and spun and tumbled around in the lowest part of my core.
I fucked him with my mouth and tongue, my teeth, and then I let my jaw go slack to take him even deeper.
Overwrought with lust, he arched under my touch and twisted his fingers in my hair. My pulse stuttered and my body ached with wanting to please him, maybe even more than I wanted pleasing.
He let out a long, tortured groan, and then whispered my name, “Juliette.”
His hands slid from my head to around my shoulders and pulled me upward. He fumbled between us to shove his jeans down even further than they were. He twisted out of them and kicked them aside. I had already ripped my shirt over my head and thrust my shorts off.
And then we were both lying face-to-face totally naked.
I cupped his cheeks against mine and fluttered my lashes against his skin, over and over, and he laughed softly, but the laugher faded quickly.
Moving swiftly, he was hovering over me and then inside me in one solid thrust.
My mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp when his hands rushed up the back of my thighs and he hooked my knees over his forearms.
In this position, he took me hard and fast, the pace turning almost frantic. Our bodies pitched and strained, grasped and clutched. I raked my nails down his back, and he bit me hard enough to bruise.
And then he turned me so he could take me from behind. He pounded into me. Like this, we were nothing but flesh on flesh. The headboard creaked from how hard I was gripping it and he yanked my hair until my head tipped back.
My orgasm hit me like a shock wave that ripped through my core and erupted as a passionate cry from my throat.
Jake growled and turned me back around. His face contorted, and hot, rough hands grasped my knees, forcing them apart. Then his mouth was on me, his lips devouring me as much as his body was.
More pleasure rushed through me. Desperately, my fingers dove in his hair. I held and gripped him, never wanting this to end.
Never wanting us to end.
I cried out his name as my orgasm surged throughout my entire body.
Jake’s face contorted, and hot, aggressive hands grasped my knees, forcing them apart wide enough to allow him to go deeper inside me. Maybe even deeper than anyone had ever been.
Sensations burst behind my eyes.
“Fuck, Juliette.” Jake’s movements were harsh and rushed, his body jerking, his breaths short and ragged.
I stared up at his face, watching his eyes close as he came. It was erotic and wild. It sparked like a wildfire out of control, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
Moments later, he opened his eyes, and warm blue irises looked down at me, and that was when I knew for sure . . . I loved him.
Really loved him.
I loved him with everything I had.
He kissed me softly and then crushed his chest to mine. When he rolled to lie beside me, he buried his nose in my hair and whispered something I couldn’t hear.
We stayed that way for the longest time, neither of us able to move, our bodies locked tightly.
“I love you, Jake.”
There it was.
His eyes flew open. I thought he was going to jump out of the bed, run out the door, flee as far and as fast as he could away from me. He didn’t. I think what he did might have been worse. He just stared at me in bewildered silence.
Right then I knew they were words I shouldn’t have spoken.
Words that slipped out.
Words he didn’t want to hear.
Yet, I’d said them and there was no taking them back. I had to own them. Then again, I felt as though they were written in the stars.
I held out my hand to his, but I didn’t move to take his. I simply held it out, waiting. Waiting for him to accept my love or reject it. The seconds that ticked by were torturous, but I kept my hand right there, held up, and offered.
Accept or reject.
I had no idea what he was going to do or what I was going to do if he rejected me. Once again I’d acted before thinking. Jumped without looking. Dove without a net.
Taking a breath, he slowly reached for me and slid his palm on top of my upturned one. “I quit my job today,” he whispered.
Everything went black, and I started to free-fall. His grandmother was dying, there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it, and as soon as she was gone, so was he. We weren’t written in the stars after all, but the fact that he was leaving was.
Those feelings of panic I never could control started to take over.
I needed air.
I needed to be alone.
I needed to get out of his room.
I tried to pull my hand away, but he wouldn’t let me go. He squeezed it tighter as if he wasn’t going to allow me to flee. My heart thundered erratically in my chest when I raised my gaze back to his. “You feel the same way. I know you do.”
His eyes looked icy blue. “What does it matter how I feel? You know I have to go.” The words raked from his throat as sharp as a razor.
“It matters, Jake. It matters. I could go with you.”
He shook his head. “I need to do this on my own. So please, just stop.”
And I did.
Yanking hard, I jerked free of his hold and threw my legs over the side of the bed. I needed to get some air. I needed to breathe. To take a few moments to put things in perspective.
Determined to keep me in his bed, he pulled me back to him. I threw myself backward to break free of him once again, but he got hold of my wrists and pinned me down. “I’m not letting you leave like this, Juliette.”
“I just need a few minutes alone.”
He shook his head but said nothing. He was shutting down. I could see it in his eyes.
I tried not to sob, but the sound I made instead was even louder. It was a tortured cry of rejection that I couldn’t contain. He closed his eyes as if unable to witness my reaction.
“Let me go,” I said quietly. I wasn’t looking for drama or to cause a scene, but I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Opening his eyes, he pinned both my wrists with one hand and lifted my chin. “I love you! Is that what you want to hear? I fucking love you,” he said louder.
Tears sprung hot from my eyes. From the day I met him we were hard and soft, up and down. Both good and bad. Gentle and rough.
He truly was the Ying to my Yang.
The realization stunned me, and I stopped trying to run.
Once I’d settled, Jake dropped down beside me and pulled me to his chest. “The thing is it doesn’t change anything.” This he said softer, quieter.
I closed my eyes, wishing I could take those words back. They caused too much pain. Too much heartache.
“It doesn’t change anything,” he said again, stroking his hand down my back.
“I know,” I whispered. “I just wanted you to be my North Star.”
He sighed, and it was full of pain and torment.
I said nothing more.
Minutes of silence passed. I had no idea how many, but the sun had set, and the room went from bright to dim in a heartbeat. It was a perfect reflection of the state of our relationship. Exhaustion hit me hard, and I hoped sleep would take me under sooner rather than later.
He was right. Saying those three little words didn’t change anything. In the end . . . it would only make parting ways that much more difficult.
Breaking up was going to be so very hard to do.