Illicit: A Forbidden Romance (3 page)

Still, if there was ever an acceptable time to entertain dirty thoughts about my mom’s boyfriend, it was now. Like I said, alcohol messed with one’s ability to make decisions, good or—in this case—very, very bad.

“
S
o how do
you like Jake?” Mom asked me that Sunday as we ate at Brimstone, a restaurant close to where I worked. She had decided to keep our longstanding Sunday dates just between the two of us, a symbolic gesture to let me know that a man would never come between us.

“He’s nice. But he uses up all the hot water when he showers.”

Mom laughed, taking a sweet potato fry from her plate and offering it to me. “So you’ve noticed too. We’re planning on getting a new hot water heater soon. The one we have is just too small for three adults.” She leaned back in her seat, eyeing me quietly.

I squirmed, wondering if she could read minds because, if so, I was in trouble. I still couldn’t get the image of a naked Jake out of my mind; in fact, my imagination had filled in details, like the v on his hips or the vein running down his swollen biceps, amongst other swollen things. The image had also infiltrated other parts of my life so that every time I read a fiction novel, my brain automatically cast Jake as the male protagonist. Needless to say I’d gone back to reading non-fiction. “He also leaves his running shoes everywhere.”

Mom clapped her hands to her cheeks with a mock shocked face. “No!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “And he doesn’t screw the cap on the orange juice all the way before putting it back in the fridge.”

“The monster!”

“Do you know how many times I’ve shaken the bottle only to have juice come out all over the place?” I asked. “It’s annoying.”

Mom tempered her smile. “I’ll talk to him about that.”

“What prompted these questions anyway?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay with him. So if you have anything else you want to get off your chest, now’s the time.”

I said nothing.

“He’s not making you uncomfortable, is he?” she asked, concern wrinkling her forehead. “I know it’s strange to have a man in the house and all.”

“No, he’s fine,” I said quickly. “Not uncomfortable.”

“I know you two have many things in common. I’m glad you two get along so well.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“So,” Mom said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Let’s talk about your twenty-first birthday. I was thinking a party. A big, crazy shindig where everybody gets drunk and pukes in the hedges.”

“I’d rather not have a party. You know I hate being the center of attention. A quiet dinner is more my speed.”

Mom eyed me thoughtfully, her beautiful green eyes blinking at me while she probably wondered if there’d been a mix-up at the hospital the day I was born and she’d gone home with someone else’s baby.

“I’m pretty sure I’m your offspring. We look exactly the same.”

“That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Then what?”

She let out a soft sigh. “I was making a wish for you. That you’ll find love soon. The bone-deep, borderline obsession kind of love that rips your heart out and shreds you to pieces.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said, even if a part of me wanted it too.

“But see, that kind of love also have the ability to transform you. You don’t know who you truly are until you put yourself back together.”

“So let me get this straight: You want your only daughter to be ripped apart by love?”

“Yes.”

“Very malicious of you, Mother,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

She laughed into her drink.

I chewed on her words. “And have you? Fallen in love like that?”

She nodded gently, setting her glass down. “Your dad. He was the love of my life, at least I thought so at the time. And as you can see, I came out better than ever. I only hope that your love doesn’t end in a messy divorce.”

I chewed on my lip before shaking my head. “Nope, I’m good. I don’t need that kind of bullshit. I’m good with my unbroken self.”

She lifted her glass of white wine. “Sorry, can’t undo it. You’re stuck with my wish.”

“And if it doesn’t come true?”

Her eyes sparkled and I found myself actually believing her. “It will. Give it time.”

I
’m not easily intimidated
; at least, I didn’t think I was. But when I came home from school one afternoon and Jake greeted me with a grin and a blindfold, I about had a heart attack.

I remained just inside the front door, too unnerved to go further. “What… what’s that for?”

He held up the folded black handkerchief. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“It won’t be a surprise if I tell you.” He took hold of my book bag and set it on the floor, then took a step closer so that his mouth was inches away from my forehead. “Now close your eyes while I tie this on.”

“Can’t you just cover them with your hands? We don’t need this Fifty Shades business.”

He laughed heartily, shaking his head. “I hate that I understood that reference.” He reached around to the back of my head, the dip at the base of his throat the last thing I saw before the blindfold stole my vision. But whereas my eyesight was gone, my other senses were heightened. His scent was all around me, a mixture of cool cologne and a unique scent that I’d become familiar with over the past several weeks. I was very aware of my heartbeat thumping a jungle beat in my ears.

“I’m not crazy about surprises,” I said with a shaky laugh. I jumped when he took hold of my shoulders and began to steer me through the house. We walked and walked, circling through the house, until he led me back to where we began.

“Are we back in the living room?” I asked.

He laughed. “Well that didn’t work. I was trying to confuse you.”

“I grew up in this house, remember?”

“I guess that’s true.” I felt him behind me as he untied the blindfold. “I know it’s not your birthday yet, but I got done early.”

It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light then another second to understand what I was looking at. Blinking, I took a step back to take it all in, nearly bumping into Jake.

“It’s a bookcase,” I said. The entire thing was made of solid wood, stained dark, and spanned the entire wall.

He walked over to the end and touched a ladder that was attached to a metal rail. “And the best part,” he said and slid it over to me.

I barely contained my squeal. “It’s beautiful!” I ran my palm along the ladder’s smooth rungs. “You made this for my birthday?”

He tried to act nonchalant, shrugging like building me a freaking bookcase was no big deal, but the crinkle at the corner of his eyes gave him away.

“Thank you.” I shook my head, my gaze drawn back to the molding up top, giving the whole thing a built-in look. “This is too much.”

“It’s really not. Come on. I’ll help you move your books.”

It took several trips to my room but we finally managed to transfer all my books into the bookcase, arranged by genre and alphabetized by author name. But even with as many books as I had, the bookcase was only halfway filled.

We stood back and assessed our work. “It looks wrong. Uneven,” I said.

He frowned. “It does?” His eyes flew to the shelves, automatically searching for flaws in his work.

“I mean, it just needs more books.” I turned to him with a look then headed to the master bedroom, where his books still sat inside packing boxes.

“What about the no fraternization rule?” he asked after I came back with a box.

“Screw the rules.” I opened the box and was immediately overcome with excitement at the sight of new-to-me books. I took the first paperback, a mystery, glanced at the generic cover then began to read the blurb.

Jake crouched beside me, grabbing several out of the box. “This is going to take all week if you read each one first.”

I smiled at him and lay down on the carpet. “I got time.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly, and went back to shelving.

T
hat night
, Jake and my mom went out on a fancy date. Mom looked glamorous in a slinky black dress that accentuated her slim figure, her hair pulled back in a chignon.

But it was her date that really took me by surprise. Jake was good looking on any given day, but tonight, with his freshly-shaved face, pressed slacks, and button down shirt, he looked like a bona fide movie star.

“Damn, you clean up nice,” I told him as he waited for my mom to finish applying lipstick.

He grinned, deploying the dimples. “Because I usually look like crap?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off him if I tried. Which I didn’t. “Something like that.”

When Mom came out of the bathroom and took her place beside Jake, I felt a strange tickle in my chest. Only after they left did I recognize envy for what it was. In an attempt to subdue the green monster that was trying to claw its way out, I sent a text to the guy from my class, the one who was always asking me to hang out.

Hey, Eli. How are you?

A few minutes went by before he finally replied.
Hey. Hi! What’s up?

I was…
I paused, my thumbs hovering over the glass surface of the phone. I took a deep breath and continued.
I was wondering if you wanted to maybe see a movie tomorrow afternoon?

Sure.

And with that one short word, I had a date.

I didn’t know if it was a good idea to start something with Eli, but hell, I might as well be adventurous for once. For all I knew, Eli might be the great love that my mom had wished for. It didn’t seem likely, but what the hell did I know? Sometimes love isn’t obvious; it sneaks up on you and whacks you upside the head with a frying pan and you find yourself laid out on your back, wondering what the hell just happened.

T
he date
with Eli went by without a hitch. He picked me up, met Jake and my mom, then took me to the movie theater where we watched the newest superhero flick. During the movie he leaned over and whispered things that the director had changed from the comic books. Our hands bumped in the popcorn bucket a few times and we shared a package of Twizzlers. Even with our arms pressed together on the armrest, he waited until twenty minutes into the movie to finally work up the nerve to hold my hand.

We had dinner at a Cuban restaurant right after. We talked, we laughed, we experienced no awkward lulls in the conversation. It was all so pleasant, so easy.

“I had a great time,” Eli said as he walked me to my front door like a gentleman. “I’m glad we finally did this.”

“Yeah, me too.” And I meant it. He was laid-back and funny and wasn’t bad to look at either. He had definite second date potential.

He blinked down at me for a few seconds before finally leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. I tilted my head back and returned the kiss. It felt natural to open up and deepen the connection.

My entire body tingled when we pulled away. “Goodnight, Eli. I’ll see you in class,” I said, biting my lips.

He licked his lower lip, looking like maybe he wanted to kiss me again. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” I said, waving before going inside.

The house was completely dark save for the soft glow down the hall coming from my mom’s office. I made my way through the darkness, skimming my fingers along the walls to find my way like I’d done since I was a child.

A few feet from her office I heard a noise that froze me where I stood. And then it came again, another moan that sounded suspiciously like a man about to reach climax.

I pressed my back to the wall, my heart racing. I should just go to my room and bury my head under a pillow, but I couldn’t make my body move. Instead I waited for the exact moment when Jake let out a drawn-out, almost pained groan. I arched my back at the same time, my entire body catching fire as desire surged through my veins. If I’d had the guts to touch myself right then, I’m sure I would have exploded in two seconds flat.

Then it stopped and all I could hear were the sounds of two people trying to catch their breaths.

“Come take a shower with me,” Jake said in a low whisper.

Mom sighed. “I can’t. I still have more work.”

Guilt and shame set in right then, making me feel dirty for getting turned on. Because as exciting as it was to listen to Jake, the other person he was screwing was still my mom.

Before I could push away from the wall, a figure emerged from the doorway and the naked form of Jake passed by, completely oblivious to my presence. I watched him walk down the hall, completely enthralled by the sight of his wide back, muscular thighs, and that ass until he disappeared into the bedroom.

As quietly as possible, I hurried to my room and locked the door.

T
he next morning
I shuffled out of my room in my pajamas, rubbing my tired eyes as I made my way to the kitchen. I hadn’t slept. I’d lain awake most of the night, wondering how the hell listening to Jake orgasm had done more to my body than the awesome kiss with Eli. It didn’t make any damn sense.

I finally got up, made some chai tea, and headed to the living room to read and hopefully take my mind off my issues. But the sight of Jake sitting on the couch stopped me short, visions of his naked, firm rear immediately bombarding my brain.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. “What are you doing?”

He looked up from the hardback he was reading and just about knocked me off my feet. Wearing black-framed glasses and day-old scruff, he was the epitome of sexy to a book nerd like me. Hell, the way he looked right then with his dimples barely showing, the thin material of his tee shirt accentuating his muscles, he was the epitome of sexy to anyone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I found myself saying. He wasn’t real. He couldn’t possibly be. First with the face, then with the body, and now with the reading. Ugh, this guy.

He took off his glasses as his dark eyebrows drew together. “What?”

“You’re in my spot,” I said, agitation setting in. Who had given him permission to look this good? It was seriously pissing me off.

He chuckled as he picked up his cup of coffee and moved to the opposite end. “I see Amanda isn’t the only territorial one around here.”

I sank down into the cushions and set my tea on the side table. “You’ve made an indentation,” I grumbled even as I snuggled into its warmth.

He studied me for long moments. “You’re grumpy this morning. What are you doing up so early anyway?”

“Same thing as you.”

“You get up early on a Saturday to read?” he asked incredulously.

“Do you?”

“Touché.” He set his glasses back on his nose and turned his attention back to the book, taking intermittent sips of his coffee.

I tried to do the same but couldn’t help but sneak glances his way, now knowing what he looked like under his clothes. I told myself I wasn’t coveting my mom’s boyfriend, that I was just admiring a man who reads, but deep down I knew what I was feeling was less innocent. What began as admiration was fast becoming something more complicated and forbidden. It was turning into full-blown infatuation.

I forced my attention back to the book, trying to ignore the warning bells. But my eyes, for whatever reason, kept getting pulled his direction. Finally I shut the book with a sigh. “So where’s Mom?” I asked to remind myself why this crush needed to be, well,
crushed
.

“Still asleep.” He set aside his book. “How was your date last night? I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“Fine. Great. Perfect,” I said, angry all over again that his sexual noises had managed to eclipse a very real and very good kiss with my date. “He’s a good kisser.”

“You going to go out with him again?”

“Definitely. I really want to see where this goes,” I said, somehow finding the need to aggrandize.

He gazed at me for a few heartbeats, his eyes so blue even behind the glasses. Finally, his lips curved into a smile. “I’m glad.” He pushed up off the couch. “I’m going to make some bacon and eggs. You want some?”

I shook my head, burying my face inside the book. “No thanks. I’m good.”

O
n Monday morning
I woke up feeling like microwaved roadkill. My throat felt like sandpaper and my entire body was on fire. Even the act of reaching over to my nightstand to turn off the alarm on my phone was a monumental feat. I barely managed to snuggle deeper into the blanket and close my eyes.

I dreamed many things, most nonsensical and stupid. A few times Jake’s face showed up in there but it was jumbled up with lions and old books and huge bottles of orange juice.

The sound of a chime roused me from sleep, and I opened my eyes to realize I was still holding the phone in my hand. I glanced at it and realized I’d received a text message from Eli.

Missed you in class today.

Flu
was all I managed to type before the phone slipped from my trembling fingers and landed on the floor. I groaned, deciding that it would just have to stay there for the rest of the day.

I turned onto my back and closed my eyes, but falling asleep was hard with a throat as dry as the desert. All of a sudden I was tormented with the idea of a refreshing glass of orange juice. I tried to convince myself that it wouldn’t be worth the effort to get the juice, but the more I thought it the more I wanted it. I was so obsessed I could almost feel the cool, sweet liquid sliding down my throat.

With a resigned groan I rolled my aching body out of bed. I started to shiver the moment the air hit my body; I didn’t think I’d ever been so cold, so hot, and so weak all at the same time.

I shuffled into the hallway, sweating and shaking. I used the wall for support as I stumbled toward the kitchen and struggled to pull open the fridge. But there it was—the gold at the end of the freezing rainbow. I grabbed the jug and, even though my hands felt like oven mitts, I uncapped it with ease and brought it up to my lips.

The relief was heaven, the taste divine. This Minute Maid orange juice was truly the nectar of the gods. I almost felt stronger. That was, until it slipped from my fingers. The plastic jug hit the tile floor with a loud thunk, sending juice spilling all over my feet. I tried to jump out of the way but failed, instead ended up slipping on the wet tile and falling hard on my ass.

“
Ow
,” I said, writhing on the floor sure that I’d broken my coccyx or some other bone in my butt.

“What—” Jake appeared in the doorway with a concerned look on his face, a towel on his hips and nothing much else. Even in my pained stupor I noticed his hair was wet, his wide chest glistening with water. He made his way over, stopping outside the juice splatter perimeter. “Are you okay? What happened?” His hair-covered legs stopped in my line of vision.

“I was drinking juice and I fell,” I said, covering my face with my hands.

He grabbed the roll of paper towels from the counter and got down on his knees to sop up the mess. With every ounce of energy I had left, I pushed myself up to a sitting position then immediately lay back down. “Why’s the room spinning?” I mumbled, pressing my cheek to the cool tile and closing my eyes.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I found myself in Jake’s arms being carried back to my room. He gently lowered me to the bed then stood back with his hands on his hips. “Your shorts are wet.”

“Your abs are nice,” I croaked.

“Do you want to change your shorts or just leave it?”

I lifted an arm, thinking it was possible to touch his body from several feet away. “You work out a lot, don’t you?”

I wasn’t sure; I thought I saw his lips tip up. But then Serious Jake took over. “You’re delirious.” When he came forward to touch his hand to my forehead, I hooked a finger into the towel and pulled.

I don’t know why I did it. Well, yes, I did it because I was curious to see if the front matched the back. But when that towel fell off his hips and his bare crotch came into view only inches from my face, I immediately realized I’d done something inappropriate.

“Joss!” He grabbed the towel and quickly wrapped it back around his waist. “What the hell?”

I couldn’t help it; I covered my mouth and giggled.

A flush rose from his neck up to his face. “Yep, just what a guy wants to hear when a girl sees his dick.”

“No, it’s nice,” I said quickly. “Nice and thick and… wait, why was it hard?”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in deep breaths. Without another word he turned on a heel and marched out of the room.

Another giggle bubbled up from my throat before I lost consciousness.

I
slept for a long time
. I sweated and shivered. I huddled under the blanket and then threw it off in cycles. After what felt like days of sleeping, I finally surfaced. As soon as I opened my eyes I saw a glass of orange juice on my nightstand that I was almost sure hadn’t been there before.

I sat up with a groan, feeling weak but at least coherent. My legs were sticky and my hair was glued together in stiff, sweet-smelling clumps. Then it all came back to me: The spilling of the juice, the hot guy in the towel, and the removal of said towel.

My face flamed at the thought of what I’d done. I had no clue what the hell had come over me, which was not to say I regretted the outcome.

Feeling grungy as hell, I shuffled to the bathroom in hopes a hot shower would make me feel human again. Maybe then I could come up with an acceptable reason for doing what I did. If nothing else, I could blame the flu.

Twenty minutes later I finally pulled myself out of the shower when the hot water threatened to run out. Before exiting the bathroom, I stuck my head out the door and listened out for Jake. Hearing only silence, I headed to the kitchen but froze when I saw him at the cabinet, grabbing a bowl.

Before I could do an about-face, he saw me and said, “Hey.” He moved to a take-out sack on the counter, keeping his back to me. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, I guess.” With no way to make an obvious exit, I sat down at the table and decided to just tackle the subject head on, so to speak. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He turned and placed a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of me. “Don’t worry about it. It didn’t take too long to clean up.”

I filled my mouth with soup, wondering if I needed to go further. I mean, it was possible I’d just dreamed the whole thing up.

Jake leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “Although if you’re apologizing for yanking my towel…”

My face burned like I was spiking a fever again. I kept my eyes glued to the carrots in the soup, wondering if I could convincingly fake fainting to get out of this conversation. “Sorry,” I mumbled around the spoon. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t,” he said with something like amusement in his voice. “You were delirious, not quite yourself. Right?”

The tone in his voice made me look up. He gave me a meaningful look and began to slowly nod his head.

“Right,” I said. We stared at each other for a long time. Finally, I asked, “You’re not going to tell Mom, are you?”

“What? That her only daughter is a pervert who wants to see my junk?”

“I’m not—!”

He pushed off the counter and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I mean, not that I blame you for wanting a peek.”

“That’s not—!” But I didn’t get a chance to plead my case. He raised his beer bottle with a dimpled grin and left.