“Sex.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve got to feel this raw sexual energy radiating between us.”
I scoff. “I most certainly do not.” Lie. My damn panties are probably wet. Bastard.
He laughs, a deep throaty chuckle that lights up my nerve endings and makes my skin tingle. “Despite your tendency to lie through your teeth about being attracted to me, you’re still outrageously delicious.”
“Delicious?”
“Outrageously so.”
“So now I’m outrageously delicious? Isn’t that a cereal tagline?”
“No. That’s magically delicious. And stop changing the subject.”
“And what subject are we on?” I ask, suddenly breathless.
“The eventual sex we’re going to have. I’m going to open you up in more ways than one, babe.”
Holy shit. My knees buckle and I reach out to grasp onto Jase’s biceps. “Jase,” I rasp. If I had any upper body strength I’d punch myself in the ovaries for the idiotic way I’m behaving. But he possesses the distinct ability to turn me into a pile of hormones, and there’s no denying that fact.
His eyes have gone dark, all the humor has disappeared from his face. “Tell me what you want.”
“I can’t. I need more time.”
His eyes dart from my mouth to my eyes. “We’ll discuss this later. I’ll show you to your room.”
I nod and follow him, being sure to keep my clutch on his arm so I don’t stagger on my uncooperative legs.
Over dinner, Jase asks his mom about her therapy appointments and medication dosage, and I’m surprised they’re talking so openly in front of me. On the car ride over, Jase explained the reason he needed to check on her – saying that she lost it several months ago and was briefly hospitalized. I’m sure there’s more to the story, but not wanting to pry, I allowed him to share only what he was comfortable with me knowing. Lord knew there were plenty of secrets I kept to myself. The fact that Jase has brought me home and introduced me to his mom, someone who’s clearly important to him, leaves me feeling rattled. He continues to surprise me with his openness – making himself vulnerable while I stay closed off.
His mom squeezes his hand from across the table, the simple touch meant to reassure. “I’m on a low dose anxiety pill, but I told you, honey, I really am doing much better. I’ve been exercising again, gardening a little too. Things are good right now.” She smiles at him, but Jase’s face remains serious, guarded, like he’s trying desperately to decipher her words.
I sit in silence while his mom heaps a scoop of mashed potatoes and a slice of meatloaf onto my plate. It’s nice to have a home cooked meal, and the food smells delicious.
“I’m so proud of my son. I can’t believe you’re a junior in college already. Your dad and I are both proud,” Cathy says out of the blue. I think she’s just desperately trying to change the subject. I know I would be.
“Don’t, Mom.”
“I’m serious, Jase. He felt bad about how things went last time you were home.”
Jase shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Let’s just drop it. I’m sure Avery doesn’t want to hear all the family bullshit.”
“Jase,” Cathy pleads.
I find his hand under the table and give it a squeeze. “It’s fine.”
I hate seeing Jase uncomfortable, and apparently discussing his Dad sets him off. I want to take the pressure off him, and feeling inspired by how open they’ve been, I take a deep breath and launch into the story about starting my search for my birthmom. Cathy leans forward, silently encouraging me with the soft crinkles around her eyes. The crease between Jase’s brows disappears. It’s the first time I’ve confirmed to Jase that I went ahead and completed the initial paperwork and he grins at me.
After that little sharing session, I focus on my meal, attempting a bite of the meatloaf. It’s horribly dry and I force the bite down. Across the table, Jase is doing the same, the lump of food lodged in his throat visible.
Cathy sets her fork down and frowns. “Sorry, I didn’t make any sauce or gravy, you guys. Is it too dry?” she asks.
“No, it’s great,” I lie.
She smiles apologetically, like she knows I’m lying but isn’t going to call me on it. Jase smirks and takes a gulp of his water to get the bite down.
* * *
“Sorry about that meatloaf from hell,” Jase says, slipping into the hot tub next to me. It takes a full minute for his words to register. His chest and abs are sickening. His entire torso is sculpted muscle and I’m a horny, hormonal mess. Crap!
“Hm? Oh, it’s fine,” I manage when I realize he’s still waiting for a response.
“She’s normally a really good cook,” he says, sinking onto the bench seat beside me. He finds my hand under the warm water and gives it a squeeze. Chill bumps rise over my skin, despite the heat vapors drifting lazily around us. “You’re already pruned.” His fingers skim along mine.
“You took forever to change,” I explain.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I went to say goodnight to my mom and wanted to ask again about how she was doing.”
“Oh.” Now I feel guilty, complaining I had to wait in a wonderfully relaxing hot tub while he took care of his mom, probably tucking her in and everything like a good son. A bad boy who loves his mom? Oh Lord, I’m done for. I shift on the bench seat, suddenly finding things a bit cramped with Jase’s large form stretched out next to me. There’s nowhere to look that isn’t his tan, smooth skin, nowhere to move where I won’t accidently brush against him.