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I look like shit.
My heart is still pounding when I finish. Jake is dressed in grey slacks and a powder blue shirt.
Porn.
He’s porn.
“I’m going to run now. Literally.” I laugh nervously. “Thanks for everything. But you’ve got to smuggle me out of here.” I know some of his family work closely with the shelter, and this is not how I want to meet them.
Damn it, Claire.
“You can join us for breakfast?”
I want to be sick again.
“Okay. Okay. I’ll drive you home. But I left your handbag in the kitchen, so you’ll have to wait.”
I wave a finger around the cut on my head. “The one that caused all of this?”
“The exact one. Can I suggest pockets?”
“HA! You can suggest anything you like, but I’ll trip over my own feet.”
The windows downstairs are open, and the fresh air hits me the moment I step onto the ground floor. It does little to ease the banging in my head, but it clears the fog.
This house is beautiful.
“Alex built this?” I can tell.
“Two years ago.”
Foot on the last step, I’m almost out of here, but that’s when I hear it.
The sounds of people.
Oh, no.
I close my eyes, feeling my heart sink to the lowest part of my stomach.
He flinches. “I’ll get your bag.”
“Jay-Jay told us you had a friend stay over. Don’t hide her away.” A woman’s voice echoes from where the kitchen is.
My mouth falls open, but Jake doesn’t seem fazed.
Why doesn’t he seem fazed?
Why isn’t he sweating enough for both of us?
I am.
Is his family used to him bringing home random women?
I’m hyperventilating.
I jerk back as he rubs his palms up and down my arms, gathering heat in my body. “Calm down.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one walking downstairs in your boss’s house, looking like you’ve been nicely fucked all night.” My hand shoots over my mouth, physically preventing further word vomit. I shrug. “Sorry. It must be the concussion.”
