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Six
Nikki was a rule follower, a straight arrow.
Even as she recognized that Jake was neither of those things, she was drawn to him inescapably.
He hitched her legs around his waist and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “You smell good, Nik.”
As he nibbled the sensitive skin below her ear, she shuddered. “You like the scent of tomato sauce?”
“On you I do.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Tell me to go home.” He begged her with as much sincerity as she had ever heard from him.
She smoothed his hair. “You told me you don’t have a home.”
“You know what I mean.”
He let her slide to her feet, but where their bodies were pressed together, she could feel the hard length of him. Her memories of Atlantic City undermined her good sense. “I’ve dreamed of you holding me like this, Jake.”
“I did more than hold you five years ago,” he said huskily.
She unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt and slipped her hand inside to test the warm contours of his chest. “Yes, you did. I was there, remember?”
Sexual tension pulsed between them.
Jake shifted his feet. “At the risk of jumping the gun, are there any condoms in this house?”
“What do you think?” She kissed his chin and tasted his lips, loving the way he shuddered at her touch. “Don’t you have one or two?”
“Not on me.”
His disgruntled response might have been funny if Nikki wasn’t so wound up. Being a single mom for the past four years had been a monastic existence. Life was hard. Busy and good, but hard. Not much time for a woman to indulge her sexual needs. And now here was Jake—sexy, gorgeous, every inch the man of her dreams.
She wanted badly to undress him and explore his taut, hard body. But if she wasn’t going to have sex with him, there were rules to follow. Fair play. Self-denial.
Though it took remarkable willpower on her part, she moved away. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked, trying to pretend as if everything was normal.
Her kitchen looked the same as always, despite Jake’s presence. Pine cabinets. Faded Formica countertops. Beige walls. This little house was dated and homely, but the community was friendly, and crime was low. Nikki’s neighbors were Black and white and Hispanic. Young and old.
The man with the laser gaze stared at her, his jaw rigid. “Coffee? That’s your answer?”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Jake.”
“And you don’t want to have sex with me.”
She shook her head slowly. “Not like this.” She dealt with the coffeepot and turned it on. When she faced him again, he was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, a dark scowl doing nothing to diminish his sexual pull. “Have you bought a return airline ticket?” she asked. No point in pretending.
“I have an open-ended one. Because the judge has fast-tracked the trial, I want to catch the opening arguments. Apparently, my father is planning to make a statement. Given the nature of the case, the judge is also allowing wronged parties to face the man who stole from them. Perhaps even let them speak.”
“Poor Vernon.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “You have more charity than I do. My father deserves public condemnation. In fact, that’s the tip of the iceberg. He should be—”
Nikki held up her hand, halting the flow of angry words. “Stop.” She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “Bitterness will destroy you. Mom and I spent the first several years of our exile constantly in the midst of grief and emotional upheaval. It was only when we decided to forgive my father that we were finally able to move on.”
“I’ve moved on,” he said, his tone defensive.
“You moved away,” Nikki said. “Ran away. By your own admission. It’s not the same thing. I know you’re in Falling Brook for a brief time, but why don’t you use these weeks to find closure with your dad? Actually, closure with the whole dismal experience?”
He stared down at his coffee, his expression moody. “Can we take this outside? I need some air. It’s not all that cold.”
