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“I invited her for dinner tomorrow night. I would like it if you would attend,” he states.
“Tomorrow works fine,” I reply. At least then, it gives me time to think more.
“Divorced,” he says like he can’t believe it. “I’m going to marry you one day soon.” He beams at me as he stands. “I’m not sure of many things, but of that, I am positive.”
“Marry me?” I choke out, wondering why that doesn’t scare me more after just ending one disastrous marriage.
“Yep.” He leans in and lifts my chin until our lips are close to each other. “And I’m going to make you scream every bad word possible when I make you come.”
“You tried that, it doesn’t work.”
“I can always fuck it out of you.” He winks before his lips touch mine. He kisses me softly, sliding his tongue past my lips and tasting me. His kisses are like bliss. They take over your body and send sparks into every follicle of my being making me want to combust. I close my eyes before he pulls away abruptly. “I like you, Oriana.”
“I like you too, Jake.”
“Good.” He turns, walks to his car, and opens the door. “Go inside, so I know you are safe.”
I stand from the steps and turn to go in, my knees a little wobblily from that toe curling kiss. But before I open the door, I blurt out, “Kyler recorded you the other day…” I turn my head to catch his reaction, “when you said I was your whore.”
“I know.”
“You think of me like that?” I ask, a little angry.
“Of course I do. You’re also so much more. But he isn’t privileged enough to know that. Only you are.” He winks, then adds, “I can be your whore any time you please.”
“I may like that very much.” My lips pull up to a smile at his words. Is Jake romantic? Because that to me is super romantic. Maybe he has warped my head, but I am here for it. All of it.
“That’s my girl,” he says, then waves his hand. “Now, get that sweet ass inside before I decide to change my mind and come up and tie you to your bed and fuck the whore right into you.”
I’m giggling as I reach the door.
“Promises, promises,” I sing back to him. When I step in and turn back to him, I see the smile that was missing when he first arrived, and it looks good on him. “You’ll pick me up tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“How should I dress?”
His eyes roam me. “I prefer you in your birthday suit.” His tongue darts out and licks his lips. “But I guess any type of clothes will do.”
“Clothes I can do.” I nod. “Goodnight, Jake.”
“Goodnight, Oriana. Dream of me?”
“Of course.” I shut the door and lean against it.
Did he really just ask me to marry him?
Or was I dreaming?
