Curiouser and curiouser. I don’t bother to ask him what he’s doing because I know he isn’t going to tell me. When I spot the bread basket beside him, which, might I add, he’s casually eating from, I fold my arms.
“Is that the bread basket Owen gave me?” I ask in disbelief.
His eyes travel to me, wandering up my body in appreciation before landing on my face. “Yup. You left it in my car. Possession is nine-tenths and all that. Want some? It’s good, too.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I say, shaking my head at him but unable to keep from smiling.
“That’s what you said last night,” he quips.
“I did not.”
“Maybe not, but we both know you were thinking it. Don’t be a stranger, darlin’. Come here.” He opens his arms to me, and I can’t resist going to him. I lower myself to the floor, and he pulls me into him, hugging me tight.
“Morning. Did you sleep well?” he asks softly.
“I did.”
His hand moves up under my top, caressing my belly and lower back. Tingles go through me, and I can’t suppress a small shudder. Jay lifts some herby bread to my mouth, and I take a hesitant bite.
“Wow. That really is good. I feel bad about Owen,” I say, frowning.
Jay’s mouth flattens into a straight line. “Why would you feel bad? Do you like him?”
“I don’t not like him. He’s a nice guy. He didn’t deserve to be used like that.”
One eyebrow shoots right up. “Used?”
Oh, God, did I just say that? My face goes bright red. Impossible to disguise, since I’m almost in his lap. His thumb brushes my cheek as I let my eyes fall to the floor.
“Were you playing a little game with me?” he whispers, his mouth close to mine.
“You rejected me. I didn’t want to go to the party by myself in case you brought a date. I would have felt awful seeing you with someone else,” I force myself to admit.
“I don’t date. And I’m sorry for pushing you away. That was a shitty decision.”
I look up, biting my lip. “Why did you push me away?”
He pulls back a little and runs his hand through his hair. “Ah.”
His face makes me backtrack. “No, wait, you don’t have to tell me. If the answer is bad, then I’d probably prefer it if you didn’t. I know I’ve probably been giving you puppy-dog eyes these past few weeks. It’s just difficult for me not to like you. I’m sure it’s difficult for any girl not to like you.”
He smiles. “Don’t stop. I’m enjoying this speech.”
I give him a light smack in the chest.
“In all seriousness, though, it was nothing to do with not wanting you,” he goes on, his voice deep and rumbly. “It had to do with getting lost in you so quickly I was forgetting myself. I have a lot going on right now — you must know that. This case is taking all of my concentration, and when I’m with you, I want to give all of my concentration to you.”
I tug at the collar of his shirt, a massive smile shaping my lips. “Don’t stop. I’m enjoying this speech.”
He leans into me and gives me a soft, wet kiss. “Think you’re clever.”
I don’t say anything, just kiss him back. He breaks it a minute later and continues talking.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I wanna be with you, Matilda. Fuck, do I want to. I mean, I’m all in, you know what I mean?” He pauses and scratches at his neck. “Shit, I’m saying this all wrong.”
My heart is in flutters. I never knew how cute he could be when he’s nervous. “You’re saying it right. Keep going.”
“So, basically, I’m probably going to be contradicting myself with this next bit, but I want to take this slowly. I want to romance you, Watson.” He grins wide, and I clench my thighs. “Give you everything you deserve in a man.”
“I like the sound of that, but you just said you didn’t date. And last night was anything but slow.”
“Last night I was a being a jealous fuck, and I had to stake my claim. I don’t date, but I will with you. You’re the exception.” He bounces me a little in his lap, and I giggle.
“Then I agree to your proposal, Jason,” I announce, holding out my hand to him. We shake on it.
He squeezes my hips and pulls me astride him. “Yeah, ya do.”
We kiss, and it’s real slow, his tongue sliding along mine, making me think wholly inappropriate thoughts for the hour of the day. I practically leap from his lap and to the other side of the room when I hear Dad come out of his home office and walk toward the staircase. I end up over by a shelf housing Jay’s music collection as Dad calls “hello” to him and continues his way downstairs, none the wiser about his daughter hiding within and her slatternly ways. Yeah, I’m bringing back the word “slattern.” Deal with it.
“Not ready to tell your old man about me yet, huh?” Jay asks, smirking.
Blushing, I shake my head and turn my attention to his CDs to try to distract myself from that kiss and how it sent my hormones into overdrive. I smile, noticing that he practically owns Eminem’s entire back catalogue. We have something in common. Jay must have gone through a rap phase, too.
“You like Eminem,” I say as he comes over and sits behind me, pulling me between his legs.
“I was an angry young man in the year 2000. Of course I liked Eminem,” he says. “Still do. The man’s a genius.”
“I agree. I used to buy his albums and listen to them in secret because Dad never let me buy anything with a parental warning sticker. What’s your favourite song?”
He makes a little humming sound in the back of his throat as he thinks about it, his hand brushing my inner thigh. His breath whispers across my nape, giving me tingles, and then he starts to sing the chorus to “Hailie’s Song” in a gorgeously low, husky voice.
Oh, God.
If I thought that kiss sent my hormones into overdrive, it has nothing on what Jay’s singing is doing to me. There’s something so incredibly appealing about his tone. My heart practically stops beating.
He sings about feeling like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and it steals a little piece of my heart. When he’s done, he kisses my neck, and I let out a heavy breath.
“That’s the one about his daughter, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s my favourite. Kind of reminds me of you, actually.”
“It does?” I ask. He has paternal feelings towards me? “That’s, um, okay.”
“The sentiment, Matilda, the sentiment. When I look at you, my head clears. Most times there’s a storm up in this brain of mine, but then you walk into a room and I can focus.”
“Jay,” I breathe.
“What?”
“Make love to me again.”
He chuckles. “Your dad’s right downstairs.”
“I know, but…God, you can’t say stuff like that to me when Dad’s home. Please make a note for future reference.”
He salutes me. “Noted.”
“I should go.”
“Why?”
“Because I still want you to make love to me. And Dad’s downstairs.”
He growls and pinches my bottom when I move to stand up. “Go on, then, Watson. Leave before you ravish me like the sexy bitch that I am. Are we still on for our sewing date tonight?”
“You mean are we on for you lounging on your chaise longue and watching me while I make dresses? Very weird, might I add, but sure. We’re on.”
His laughter follows me out the door.
***
That night in bed, I toss and turn. After spending two sexually frustrated hours in Jay’s company while I worked on my dress designs and he gave me heated looks, I’m not exactly feeling ready for sleep. I’m ready for other things that involve a bed, though. And that’s the problem.
I agreed with him to take things slow. Does that mean no more sex?
A floorboard creaks outside my room and the door opens, revealing Jay in a T-shirt and sleep pants. Without a word he crawls into bed beside me, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me into him, my back flush with his front.