22. Caroline

In my pre-mom days, we probably would've all met up at a bar after the games to wind down and recover. Tonight, though, I take Jake back to the BB. He heads to my bedroom to take a shower while I handle a few loose ends with guests.

Once I've got Walker down for bed, I turn my attention to Jake, who looks considerably better after his shower.

I'm trying really hard not to smile as I sit beside him on the little couch in my room. He's studying some kind of hockey thing on his phone with a serious look on his face.

"So… we're in the lead," I try. "The wedding games are practically ours."

Jake drags his eyes from the phone to me, unimpressed. "That's wonderful."

"I did try to warn you against eating so much."

"Was that because you knew you were going to perform a cannonball on my stomach?"

I choke back a laugh. "It wasn't a cannonball."

"You only stopped short of plugging your nose." He does look a little irritated, but some of it fades at that. The corner of his mouth pulls up just a touch.

"Well, you did great. And I'm sorry I made you throw up. Everybody thought it was hilarious if it's any consolation. They only ever see you in complete control and all commanding and intimidating. I think people enjoyed your vulnerable side."

"Then I hope they remembered it well because it's not coming back."

"You know, Jesse told me about that game of hockey you played with the barstools. The one that got you arrested a few nights before you showed up and agreed to fake marry me."

Jake's cheeks actually go splotchy red at that.

"Jake Summers… Are you blushing?"

"Nope," he says, very obviously embarrassed. "That's anger."

"Liar."

"I had too much to drink that night. I've cut back since then. It's part of the new me."

"Maybe you loosening up isn't the worst thing in the world. I could go out and get us some booze if it'll get you to relax a little."

"I am relaxed."

I fold my arms. "You're about as relaxed as a sphincter that's trying to accommodate a baseball bat."

He squints, raising one eyebrow. "What?"

"Admit it. You've been uptight about something ever since we got back. Me and Walker have our theories, of course. But I think it's time we get it out in the open. I'm tired of tip-toeing around it."

"Everything is fine."

"It's good you took up hockey and not acting."

He sighs. It's a long while before he speaks again. "Maybe I'm just… frustrated."

"Okay. We're getting somewhere. You're frustrated. Because it's hard keeping this lie going with our friends? Because you're actually still mad that I kept Walker a secret for two months? Because–"

"Because of these," he says, stunning me as he touches the pad of his thumb to my lower lip, running it down sensually.

My breath catches.

"Because of this," he says, eyes trailing down my body hungrily. "Because I just watched you ride me in an attempt to pop a balloon and I've been fighting the urge to go jack off like a middle-schooler ever since."

I chew the corner of my lip. "So you liked that? I could ask Paisley if there are any more balloons… I could put one right here and give it a run for its money." I lay my hand on his lower belly, letting my fingertips drag a teasing path downward.

If he's sexually frustrated, he can join the freaking club. I've still been fighting back waves of heat since he gripped my hips and railed me in front of everybody I've ever known. Sure, our clothes were on, and it was for the sake of balloon popping… but I didn't miss the hard shape of his arousal pressing against my ass. I've been practically torturing myself with memories of how it feels to have him inside me ever since.

"Fuck the balloon," he growls, pulling me onto his lap.

"Oh. I was thinking of fucking the hockey player, but if you insist, I can–"

I laugh when he stands suddenly. I have to hook my heels around his waist as he hoists me up and tosses me on the bed.

"Close your eyes, Walker. Mommy is going to be naughty."

Walker is out cold, but he's also still so little that he's completely oblivious to stuff like this. It wouldn't phase him if I invited a full-sized bear into the bedroom and staged a boxing match.

Jake yanks his shirt over his head, powerful body catching every shadow and hint of light in my dim bedroom. The sinew in his muscles stretches and moves as he positions himself above me, eyes absolutely lit with starvation.

"You know," I say, faking a yawn. "I'm actually pretty tired. I don't know if–"

He shuts me up with a kiss.

It's exactly what I've been missing for these last few months.

His lips are the perfect blend of soft and firm. His touch is commanding. His body is heavy on mine and dizzyingly warm in all the right ways.

I squirm under him. "I've wanted this."

"How bad," he asks, pulling my shirt up and cupping my breast before he even gets it over my head like he can't help himself.

"So bad," I moan, rocking my hips up for him.

In some distant corner of my brain, I'm aware that he might be dodging the real problems–that he's just using our mutual need to shove all the emotional questions lingering between us into the closet. But right now, none of that matters. We've done the whole "sex first, ask questions later" thing enough times that I know the drill. I can deal with the insecurity tomorrow.

Tonight, I'm all his.

We take turns peeling the clothes off each other between a frenzy of kisses and greedy hands. By the time we're done, I'm only wearing one sock, which somehow makes me feel even more naked than if I had nothing on at all.

I dig my sock-clad heel into the back of his thigh, urging his delicious weight down on me.

I feel the shape of his hardness between my legs, teasing me as he slides up and down my slit with his length, drawing tendrils of agonizing pleasure straight from my belly to my core.

"I'm already close," I breathe.

"I love how fast you come for me," he rasps in my ear.

"I want you inside me. I want you to come with me."

"Fuck," he groans. He's inside me so quickly I could almost laugh if I wasn't already half-blind with ecstasy.

I pull him in with my heels, and he drives in deep. He moves slowly, even though I can tell he wants to go faster. He's savoring this, and I love that he is.

His friction is perfection.

My vision goes black at the edges and all I can see is his gorgeous face above mine–features rapt with focus as he stares back into my eyes. It's so intimate I almost can't take it. I almost pull my eyes away from his, but I don't.

I reach up, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down.

He kisses me deep, holding the suction on my lower lip as his pace ratchets up, faster and faster.

I'm half screaming now, moans swallowed by his mouth as he showers me with hard, passionate kisses.

I can tell he's holding back as much as he can, trying to wait for my orgasm before he comes.

The fact that he's already there is the last push for me, shoving me over the edge of oblivion until tantalizing warm stars race through me, igniting my body all over. Jake goes tense, then relaxes on top of me like the world's best blanket.

We're both sweaty and tired, but he lifts his head, hair dangling in front of his face. "I needed that."

I laugh. "You and me both."

He slips out of bed, and I hear the sink running. A moment later, he comes back with a wet towel and cleans me off. I just want to lie in bed, but I get up, use the bathroom, and crawl back in beside him.

"Do you feel better now?" I ask.

Jake hesitates just a beat too long, then nods his head. "Yeah. Much."

I swallow my questions. Tonight was the closest to how things were in Manhattan since we've been back in Frosty Harbor. I can save the real questions for another time… even though I feel the clock ticking. The wedding is getting closer every day.

I can't say why, but it feels like we need to find a way to work our issues out before then–like the wedding will either push us apart or bring us together. I decide I'm just being dramatic. There is no reason we can't handle all of this like adults. We agreed to get fake married, and that's what we'll do. Big deal, right?