Waking Up With You (23 page)

“I guess.” He gives me a speculative look.

“Ready to go shopping?”

“Are you sure you want me to walk around in swimwear?”

I laugh at the thought. “Right after we both get dressed, I mean.”

“Ten minutes?”

“I’ll be ready by then.”

As can be expected, grocery shopping on the 24
^th
is a nightmare. Too many shopping carts getting in the way of one another. Jake stops to briefly chat with an elderly lady and then comes over just in time to see me putting a big leg of ham in the cart.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Mrs. Reynolds from next door.”

“Mrs. Reynolds?”

“Our neighbor, dear.”

“Oh, does she live in the yellow house?”

“That’s correct.”

“I’ve never even met any of our neighbors.” I’m a terrible person.

“Don’t worry about it. The price to pay for living in the city. One of these days, we should just organize something in our neighborhood and they can come over for tea or dinner.”

“That would be nice,” I say sincerely.

“You can wow them with your cooking.” I jokingly hit his arm.

“What? I’m proud of your cooking… and other skills,” he says playfully.

I lift my eyebrow at his remark, but don’t dare to ask which other skills he might be referring to.

“Hold it!” he says loudly.

“What?”

“Is that a giant leg of ham I see?” he says, while pointing to the ham.

“Too big?”

“You think? Let’s scale it down a bit. Not too much cooking. More cuddling tonight.”

More cuddling
? I say nothing but quickly lift the ham and return it to the meat section.

“How about some juicy rib-eye steaks, mashed potatoes, and buttered vegetables for tonight?”

“Em, you had me at steaks.” He chuckles.

“What do you want for lunch today?”

“Something light. Soup and sandwich?”

“Is the seafood paella for lunch or dinner tomorrow?”

“Dinner. I promised Anita we’d drop by tomorrow for the traditional Christmas lunch. Is that alright with you? Because if you don’t want to, we can just…”

“I’d love that,” I interrupt him. “Shouldn’t we bring something, though?”

“No, this time, the tables will be groaning with food. We got donations from all the big restaurants in town. I also ordered a dozen cakes from Rosamund’s. Got everyone sweaters, scarves, and mittens from Wellington’s, as well.”

I’m not sure why, but Jake’s kindness affects me in a big way. I’m a bit teary-eyed, so I turn sideways so he won’t be embarrassed by my emotional response. I silently take his hand and we both push the cart around the aisles till we take care of all the items on our list.

I’m busy replenishing the snacks we have on the long coffee table. There’s little PB and J triangle sandwiches, apple slices, grapes, nuts, and a bowl of freshly-made popcorn with melted butter. We’re having a great time with our movie marathon. Done with
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation
and
Elf
. Up next:
Home Alone.

“Emma, will you relax? Come over here so we can start the movie.”

I rejoin him on the couch and he puts his arm around me. My feet are inside a comfy pair of Bart Simpson slippers. Mika contentedly chews on her bone as she sits in her own spot. Right here, right now, there is nothing more I can ask for. It’s total bliss to be with Jake this way – no work, no studies, just plain fun.

This movie is one of my big favorites. I first saw it when I was seven. When Mom scolded me for breaking the rules, I would daydream that I was Kevin McCallister, alone on my own, defending my turf.

It seems that Jake likes this movie, too. Whenever he laughs, he looks so young. I wish he could be this way all the time – relaxed and cheerful. I lean my head on his shoulder and he embraces me tighter.

“Sleepy?” he asks.

“Kinda,” I say faintly.

He lets my head rest on his lap, then carefully arranges the throw on my body to keep me warm.

“Thank you,” I mumble. I drift off as I feel his hand lightly rubbing my head.

I wake up in confusion. I’m lying on Jake’s bed, though I’m sure I was lying on his lap when I dozed off. He’s not in the room, so I get up and follow the delicious scent of cooking.

“Feeling refreshed?” Jake asks while mashing boiled potatoes and tending to his sautéed vegetables.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Did you carry me to the bed?” He must have because I know I don’t sleepwalk.

He smiles broadly. “Nope, Santa’s elves did.”

“Har, har.” We both giggle at ourselves.

“Dinner’s almost ready. I’m actually about to grill the steaks now.”

“You stole my job.” I pretend to glare at him.

“Your job? We agreed that I’ll do dinner and you’ll do dessert.”

“Oh God, I haven’t done the dessert.”

“Don’t worry about it. We can defrost one of your apple pies in the freezer.”

“It won’t be special.”

“Your pies are heavenly. But don’t let all the praise go to your head, sweetheart. You are a fantastic cook, but I could give you a run for the money,” he baits me.

“Huh! Not even close,” I mock him.

“Take it back,” he says while he holds me captive against the kitchen island.

“Never!”

Jake starts to tickle me and I tickle him back. We’re like a couple of kids and Mika watches us with her head cocked so cutely.

We finally stop and look at one another for a long time. Simultaneously, we move toward each other and start to kiss. He molds me to his body and I put my arms around his neck tightly. My breasts heave with each breath I take. I am a quivering mass as his hands touch my body. His fingers inch into the waistband of my leggings. Just then, the smoke detector beeps.

“Oh God, I forgot about the vegetables,” he says weakly.

He rushes to turn off the stove and fan the smoke with a damp towel . As he resets the smoke detector, I take a moment to compose myself.

“Shall we have dinner first?”

“Or?” I ask.

“I think you know what comes next,” he remarks drily.

“Dinner.” I can’t trust myself to say more.

He looks at me for a couple of seconds like he’s trying to determine what’s on my mind. I keep a straight face.

“Give me a couple of minutes, then. Just get comfortable. The steaks will be out soon.”

True to his word, he serves two perfect medium-rare rib-eyes on plates, with arugula salad on the side. I help him put the mashed potatoes and buttered vegetables in platters. He opens a bottle of red wine and asks, “Would you like some?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Not at all. In Europe, parents let their children drink wine with dinner.”

“I’ll have a sip, then, Daddy,” I deliberately needle him.

He pours the Merlot into my wine glass, but before I can take a small taste, he stops me.

“Hold the glass to the light.” I do as he asks, and I observe the wine’s clarity and depth of color. Hmmm, there is more to wine than just drinking it.

“Now, give the glass a swirl. Take a series of sniffs.”

“Have you always been a wine expert?”

“Not really an expert, but through the years I have learned to appreciate the finer points.”

Once I give the glass a swirl, I smell its deep fruity aroma. I smile and say, “I think I understand now what you’re trying to teach me. It’s not just about drinking. It’s about using all your senses.”

He smiles in agreement. “As with other pleasures in life.” My cheeks turn pink. Why does it always lead back to that? He is a sensuous man. That’s why. And he likes to torment me. He knows he can light up a fire inside me just through words and images.

I now take a careful sip of the wine, mindful of what happened to me last time. I look at Jake from beneath my lashes, my eyes trying to provoke a response in him.

“Would you rather be doing something else?”

“Certainly not. No point in wasting the feast you prepared,” I say
. But say one more thing and I won’t be able to control myself.

He doesn’t say anything. I guess two can play the game. Instead, he starts to cut his steak and reach for more mashed potatoes. I take his cue and start enjoying the food. I savor everything and sip a little wine every now and then. We are completely silent, like we’re waging a battle to see who will give in first.

“Merry Christmas,” he says while he raises his glass.

I raise mine to clink his glass. “Merry Christmas.”

My throat feels dry and I lick my lips with my tongue. An audible groan escapes him and he abruptly stands up to lift me up from my seat. “No more,” he says softly before his mouth descends on mine.

I’m not sure what possessed me, but I run the tip of my tongue along his lips and I hear him quietly moaning. His tongue touches mine and his fingers tease the back of my neck. I shiver with desire. I want him to tear off my clothes and leave his mark on every part of my body.

“Let’s go the room right now,” he says in a voice so husky that I feel his need.

“What about dessert?”

“Screw dessert,” he says hastily.

“Are you sure you want to do that to the pie?” I give him a smutty look.

He half-smiles at my implication.

“Wait for me in the room. I won’t be long. I promise,” I say.

He briefly nods and I rush to my own room. I search for Paige’s Christmas gift and find it in one of the drawers. I put on the tiny thong and the baby doll negligee. I look at the mirror and see my heightened color and mussed-up hair. I look like a harlot, begging for it. All he needs to do is look at me and my insides turn to mush.

I enter his bedroom slowly, a little bit afraid of how he’ll react. His sharp intake of breath says it all. He’s on the bed and motions for me to be right next to him. I kneel on the bed, close to his chest. Then I lift his hand to my lips and lick his fingers before putting it beneath the seam of my thong. His fingers touch me till I feel the familiar wetness.

Now I lay back and tell him to put his mouth where his hand is. He puts the narrow patch of cloth to one side and uses his mouth and fingers in the most earth-shattering way. “You taste so good,” he whispers.

“Stop,” I say, even as he continues to explore. “Lie down. I want to taste you too.”

His eyes are dark with craving, and he gives in to my demand. I squeeze him and close my fingers around him as I move up and down. Soon I can no longer resist, and I take him deep into my mouth. His response is loud and clear. “Go on,” he says.

I move slowly at first. Then I begin to suck him firmly and deeply. His hardness drives me wild. I need to bury my face in his manly scent. A primitive urge takes over me and I want to see him give in to the pleasure. I feel him throbbing so my warm mouth hurriedly moves up and down, faster and faster, until with one final thrust I taste his sweetness and drink him in.

I lie next to him and he spoons me from the back. My heart leaps at this intimacy. After some time, I feel him moving slowly, taking my ear gently into his mouth. He nibbles my lobe and I turn to gaze at him questioningly.

“So soon?” I ask in astonishment.

In response, he lets me feel him, and I am stunned to see he’s hard again. He lazily kisses me all over my heaving body, as he takes his time to spread me apart and engulf me with his delectable mouth. He is so intent on sending me to the peak that before long I cry out loud, begging him to take me. He positions me on my side and enters me from behind.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks as he plunges into me.

“Yessss…”

His hands palm my breasts as he pulls me closer. He fills me so completely that I don’t want this to end. He pulls slowly back out, all the way, and then impales me aggressively. Every stroke is getting me closer and closer until he sends me to the brink, the white-hot waves of ecstasy causing me to scream. He follows, shuddering and squirming, his embrace so tight I gulp for air. I close my eyes as he presses his lips to my neck.

Somehow, Jake manages to wake up earlier than I do. I go out in my cotton robe and find him already dressed in a casual shirt and slacks with a pale blue cardigan.

“Good morning,” he says quite cheerfully.

“What time were you up?” I ask while yawning.

“Sevenish. I cleared the dishes from last night, walked Mika and prepared breakfast.”

“I’m impressed.”

“We’re having a breakfast casserole, tea, and some croissants.”

“Wow! I’m doubly impressed.”

“Don’t be. The casserole is mine, but I had the bakery deliver the croissants.”

“Do bakeries deliver?” I ask, amazed.

“Not really. I know the owner. And I bribed one of the counter staff. Gave her a huge tip to deliver on Christmas day.”

“Of course you did,” I say wryly.

“Come sit down, my lovely wife, and I’ll get you some tea with lemon.”

I sit down and stare at a beautifully wrapped box on my plate. “This doesn’t look like casserole to me.”

“Merry Christmas, Em.”

“Thank you, but should I be opening this now?”

“What better time?” I untie the bow and unwrap the present. I find a pair of exquisite aquamarine and diamond earrings. My heart lurches as I realize it’s not the necklace I saw when I opened the bathroom door and accidentally saw him looking inside the bedside drawer. Of course. The necklace was for Christina. How could I even have thought that something so grand was meant for me? My eyes are misty, and I hope he doesn’t guess the real reason why.

“Em?’ he asks, apparently concerned over my expression.

“They’re so beautiful. Thank you,” I say with sincerity.

“You’re welcome. I thought they would be perfect for you. It’s your birthstone. But you don’t seem very happy with them, Em.”

“No, I’m just overcome with emotion. You give me such extravagant gifts.” What I say is true, but he can’t know that right now I feel like my heart is being ripped from my chest.

“We’re still on for lunch at the shelter?” I change the subject. There’s plenty of time for me to reflect later on. Right now, I can’t ruin what may be our first and last Christmas together.