Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“You think I look hot like this?” he asks.
“Um. Yes. Fuck yeah.”
A small smile pulls at his lips, and he steps into me and leans down to press the softest kiss to my mouth, but I don’t let it end there.
I drop the bag of peas and grab the back of Jake’s neck, keeping him pinned against me as I open my mouth around his, and I’m fully committed to forcing my tongue inside and coaxing him into this way better and much-needed kiss, but our tongues meet and tangle.
And now Jake’s kissing me back in that way better and much-needed way, and it’s everything to me.
We stand there in my kitchen and make out like we’ve never fucked or done anything beyond kissing.
It feels new and heart-pounding special in the way kissing Jake has always felt, but different. This is different.
We’re both slow and lazy and gentle, shy with our hands, and every touch feels important.
Then Jake shifts a little and steps on the bag of peas, and the bag pops so loud, we both jump and start laughing again.
“Way to kill the moment,” I joke.
“Shit,” he says, bending to pick up the bag. “I’ll, uh, buy you more peas.”
He tosses the bag into the sink.
“They’re really only good for ice packs,” I say. “I actually hate how they taste. I never eat them.”
“So, you just keep frozen peas around in case you trip into a door?”
I fake glare at him, and he smiles.
Then he presses a kiss to my forehead before moving away. I watch him walk over to the oven.
And I only let that cheap little dig slide because I have a thing about forehead kisses.
They’re magic.
I’ve only ever gotten them from Jake. And my mom, I think. But that was the second time Jake’s done it.
With his back to me, I can hide the flush in my cheeks I know is there, and I watch him pull a knife out of the drawer and slide the cake pan in front of him.
He cuts and plates a piece of the cake he’s made, and I think I’d do anything for Jake, but I’m suddenly starved and not the best at sharing.
“You might want to cut two pieces,” I suggest.
Jake turns around after ignoring my suggestion (I know I said it loud enough) and he carries over the plate.
He stops when he’s close and holds it between us, showing off the one piece he cut for us to share.
And it’s shaped like a heart.
A slightly mangled, fucked up heart.
The edges are jagged and broken and messy, and one side is definitely bigger than the other. There are crumbs all over the plate.
But Jake did this for me, on his own, without me asking for it.
I love it more than anything.
“This is very romantic,” I tell him.
“Not really. It looks like shit.”
“I’m feeling a lot of things right now and not one of them is embarrassment for how messy this looks.”
“So, you like messy things?”
“I like you so, yeah.”
He smirks at me. Then he hands over the plate.
“Don’t worry. I won’t make you share any of it,” he says.
“Off topic, but I’d marry you.”
Jake laughs all casual and carefree, like he knows I’m joking.
I shove most of the cake into my mouth so I can’t admit that I’m not, and glare at Bella when she slinks up next to me, purring for a piece.
“You are out of your fucking mind, bitch,” I mumble around my bite. “Get your mean ass away from me.”
Jake wastes absolutely zero time and picks her up.
“You spoil her,” I grunt.
“Someone has to.”
My eyes slowly lift to his face. “What.”
Maybe the wedding can wait.
“I’ll have you know that I have done nothing but take good care of her. I give her only the best food. I let her roam free in the house. I even rescued her from a kill shelter.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I saved her cute little life. You should’ve seen her. She looked lonely and scared and I was lonely and scared. It felt right at the time. I don’t know. But every time I try to hold her like that, every time I try and show her any affection, she runs away from me. And she’d most likely be dead if it wasn’t for me, so what the fuck.”
“Shh. Don’t listen to that, sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes when Bella purrs and bats at Jake’s face.
“Maybe you’re more of a dog person,” he says.
“No fucking way. I’m a Capricorn.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” He laughs.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Jake smiles and watches me finish the rest of the cake. “I was supposed to find out what your sign was. I meant to do it yesterday.”
“Why?” I ask, sucking the crumbs off my fingertips.
“Hector and Miguel wanted to know. They were talking about if we were well matched or some shit, and I told them I’d ask you, but then I forgot about it when I got home because you smiled at me…”