Good With His Hands (Good in Bed #1)- Lauren Blakely Page 0,51
concentrating as it is.”
“I told you we should have stayed in bed longer this morning.” He leans against the doorframe, his gaze raking up and down my body, making me wish I’d put on something more than a T-shirt to work in. “I don’t see how you can be expected to concentrate with only two orgasms. You need at least three.”
I shake my head and point a warning finger at his chest. “Stop. If I don’t finish this, I’m not leaving tomorrow. I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He tosses the T-shirt on the couch as he stalks across my small living room toward me. “Panties off. You need to come on my tongue. Coming on my tongue will make everything better.”
“Hard to argue with that,” I say, sighing in surrender as he sweeps me out of my chair and carries me to the couch where he proves he’s a brilliant man with an even more brilliant tongue.
I come so hard I’m still seeing rainbow glitter dancing around the edges of my vision as Jesse says, “Now you’re ready to work. See you at seven,” and leaves to attend to his own packing.
As soon as he’s gone, my focus magically returns. I make a mental note to tell him he was so right about that third orgasm, then I finish uploading all my new cards to my shop and placing my bulk orders in an hour and a half.
Next, I catch up on my PT exercises. Yes, I swam like an animal yesterday, but my physical therapist gave me plenty of exercises to continue with on my own to stay strong, and that’s what I need to do.
Stay strong.
For more reasons than one.
The man who’s making me feel all kinds of scary things is leaving in less than two weeks.
I’ll need unicorn-level badassery to vanquish these feelings.
I lace up my shoes and head out for a run. While I’m at the park, I add squats, lunges, and standing core exercises to my workout before I finish up and head for home.
On the way, I text Gigi with the swimming update—promising to wash and return her adorable suit ASAP—and check in with my mom on her new pie.
* * *
Mom: It’s delish! Come by and try some? Dad and I are having a few friends over tomorrow afternoon to play cards and taste test. You’re welcome to join. Oh! And we can show them the new menu drawings. The printer just sent me a proof. They’re adorable!
* * *
Ruby: Aw, thanks, so glad you love them. But I’m actually going out of town for a few days. With Jesse. Upstate.
* * *
Mom: Jesse, as in, THE Jesse?
* * *
I gulp. But answer her anyway.
* * *
Ruby: Yes. We’re hanging out before he leaves town. That’s all.
* * *
Mom: Are you sure, hon? You’ve always had a little crush on him, haven’t you?
* * *
As I turn the corner, I stare at her message like it’s an infrared laser that can see right through me. I could deny it. I could avoid her. But she knows me. Why lie?
* * *
Ruby: Yes, but it’s all good, Mom. We’re friends. We’ve been through a lot together.
* * *
Mom: Of course you have. So be careful. This is a tender time for you, honey, just finishing therapy and all. Be careful with yourself.
* * *
Twice.
She said be careful twice.
But I am careful.
Friends with benefits is a smart strategy. It protects the heart. We’ve laid out the rules. And we won’t break them.
* * *
Ruby: I will be. Love you.
Later that night, Jesse and I eat pizza and play our own version of Pictionary, challenging each other to see who can draw a pig faster, a llama funnier, an anteater faster and funnier.
By the time I finish my Chardonnay and another slice of cheese and pepper yumminess, claiming sketching victory with a spectacular giraffe with a neck long enough to fill an eighteen-by-twenty-four-inch page of sketch paper, I’m too happy to think about how not carefully I behaved tonight.
Tonight, it felt like we were together.
The kind of together that doesn’t have an expiration date.
The kind we can’t have.
20
Jesse
This is the good life.
Blasting the Rumours album by Fleetwood Mac . . . Cruising in the 1972 Datsun Z-series I couldn’t bring myself to part with before selling the shop down a two-lane highway . . . Road-tripping with my woman.