Chapter 40 The bedroom jake
Okay, so if I’m going with total honesty here … I’m pissed at him because he’s made me want him tonight.
And I don’t just mean I want in his pants. I mean I want him - want him. I want him to be mine.
I know it’s stupid and irrational, and I’m with pine, but I can’t help the way I feel.
He’s Jake.
I’ve loved him for a long time. But this, here now, what I feel inside for him … it’s like a fire is burning inside me, and I don’t foresee a way to put it out anytime soon.
And I’m not exactly in a position to be able to douse that fire named Jake.
I’m also currently in a position where I have to spend an inordinate amount of time with him. A position he put me in.
It’s the worst kind of torture.
So yeah, I’m feeling a little pissed at him, and for some reason it’s decided to make an appearance now, here on the steps of this club, surrounded by hundreds of people.
It’s just … he serenaded me for God’s sake! How the hell am I supposed to recover from that?
“You heard,” I say standing tall. “You serenaded, and outed me in front of two hundred people.”
“Outed you?” he gives an amused look, but I can tell behind the façade, he’s still a little pissed off.
Of course it only manages to annoy further.
“You told everyone my name and I like my anonymity, Jake, and not to become the subject of your bitches hate chat.”
“Okay…”
“And you sang a song like ‘within reach’ to me.”
He looks at me puzzled. “But I thought you liked the song? You said it’s your favourite out of all the songs I’ve ever written.”
“It is, and I do love it. But that’s not the point. It’s an inappropriate song to sing it to me I have a boyfriend.”
He steps back a little and a tiny frown sets on his face. “It’s not like I was dry humping you on stage, shia.”
“I know but–”
“Of course it can be arranged if you want. I’ll be only more than happy to dry hump you on stage, or in private, you know whatever suits, just let me know.”
And there he is. It’s like a bloody affliction with him.
“Arrghh! Stop with the constant flirting!” I put my hand to my head frustrated.
He frowns for real now. “The flirting bothers you?”
“Yes!”
“I thought you liked it.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Okay.” He scrunches his brow up. “Look, song and flirting aside.” He steps closer to me. It muggy’s my thoughts up. “Have I done something else to upset you, Shia?”
Yes, you’ve made it almost impossible for me to not want you. And now I’m confused and wanting you, and worried if I dance with you that I might do something stupid, like make a move on you, and ruin our friendship when you of course reject me, and I’ll also quite possibly screw things with Pine up.
“No.”
“So why the theatrics?”
It’s my turn to frown. “I’m not being dramatic! I just didn’t want to dance with you because my feet are hurting from my shoes and you wouldn’t listen to me, and you all but forced me into it!”
He looks confused now. To be honest I’m a little confused as to where I’m going with this myself.
It’s like I’m desperately throwing mud at him waiting for some to stick.
I want him to fight with me. But he just won’t.
“Okay, I’m sorry. We won’t dance.” He lifts his hands in surrender, looking all wounded and moves to walk back up the stairs past me.
Oh God! Now I feel all bad for projecting my own feelings onto him, and blaming him for just being himself.
I’m such a bitch.
I catch hold of his hand as he’s passing, bringing him to a stop beside me. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He stares at me, saying nothing and I feel compelled to keep talking, to explain my behaviour.
“I’m just tired and ratty, and I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them. I’m just being a bitch. Forgive me?”
His eyes soften. “You’re forgiven. Like I could ever stay mad at you.” He cups my chin with his other hand and kisses my cheek. “Look if you’re tired we can go back to the hotel and go to bed?” he says into my ear, his hot breathe tickling the skin on my neck, and other far off, unreachable places.
Go to bed? Okay, as inviting at that is it’s probably not the best idea, because my belly is pooling warm with the way you feel on my skin right now.
“No, we’ll dance. I mean my feet are already covered in nightclub crap … puke,” I smile. “Come on.”
He smiles back at me, and it’s beautiful. He looks so very beautiful. And all kinds of wrong.
My heart climbs out of my chest and sneaks into his, nestling in for the night.
Enrique Iglesias's, ‘Cuando’ start to pump out of the speakers and in this moment, I know I’m in trouble, but even still, it doesn’t stop me from leading him onto the dance floor.
All eyes are on Jake and me. This is how it always is around him. And to be honest in this moment, I like it.
I like that every women in this club is wishing she were me right now.
Jake grabs my hips and pulls me close to him. Staring down into my eyes, he starts to move me in time with him, and the people around us just melt away.
All I can do is stare up at him, trapped in his thrall, completely helpless as he moves my body with his.
Jake can dance. And I mean really dance. Sexy, sensual every move he makes with me, for me, is like he’s caressing me, heightening my senses to him.
If he can move like this on the dance floor, then I can only imagine how good he is in bed.
An image of me in bed with Jake flickers through my mind. So vivid that I feel lost in it. Lost in him. Too him. Consumed and totally intoxicated.
I feel reckless. Heedless. Like I could do anything … want to do anything, with him, right here and now.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask, forcing my voice to work, as I try to focus my mind on anything but the feel of his body pressed up against mine, as Enrique's vocals continue to aid my mental and physical assault over my need for Jake.
“The Bedroom.”
Bedroom. Bed. Jake in my bed. Naked.