Page 50 of Play For Keeps

SEXUAL PREFERENCES

Jake

I woke up in Everly’s bed. She was still sound asleep beside me, her long hair fanned out over her pillow and the soft curve of her shoulders. I tried to let her sleep, but everything in me wanted her back in my arms. I gently pulled her into my chest, her sweet little ass pushed up against my already excited to see her again cock. A soft little sigh escaped her lips when my dick twitched to life, but I knew she probably needed to rest. I was surprised I could even get it up after what we did last night.

We both couldn’t get enough, waking up in the middle of the night for another round, then doing it again after that. It turns out that with Everly, I’m totally and fucking completely insatiable.

I still can’t believe I’m in her bed. This was not what I was expecting when I showed up at her door, but I have absolutely no complaints about how our night went. But as happy as I am, I’m also a little nervous. Will she wake up and have second thoughts? Will she wake up and tell me that it can never happen again, that I’m too young for her, that she doesn’t have the same feelings for me that I have for her?

I swallow the lump in my throat at the thought, breathing in the scent of her. I softly stroke her hair, which is a wild mess from having my hands tangled in it all night and press a soft kiss to her shoulder. We’re both awake now, but neither one of us has made a move to get out of bed.

She will eventually have to pick up Birdie from her mom’s and I promised the guys I’d go for a bike ride. But I don’t want to think about any of that right now. All I want to do is stay in this bedroom, in this warm, little bubble with Everly in my arms for as long as I can.

Turning in my arms to face me, she looks up at me with sleepy eyes, her lips still swollen from my kisses. She’s beautiful. Moving her hand to my chest, her fingertips run an outline of the clock tattoo on my pec.

“I think this one is my favorite,” she says in a raspy morning voice. “It’s sexy. But so are all of your tattoos.”

She props herself up on an elbow, the bedsheets pulled up right below her shoulder blades. She traces the large hand on the clock before gazing back up at me. “What does it mean?”

There are a few reasons I got the tattoo on my 21st birthday. The nightmares I’d had for years, the ones I told nobody about, were not going away. I needed a way to channel that energy. It’s hard to explain, but I think the tattoos were my way of taking control, a coping mechanism. In a strange way, it was oddly soothing. It was my first one, and after that I was hooked.

I draw a circle with my finger on the top of her shoulder and she shudders. “Have you ever felt like time passes, but you realize you haven’t made any progress? Like you’re stuck, or frozen?” Everly nods. “I got it to remind myself to keep going.”

“I love that.” She smiles softly before shifting her gaze to the staircase that winds around my bicep, outlining a spindle with her index finger. “And this one?”

The last thing I want to do is ruin this moment. Having Everly’s naked body pressed up against mine is a special kind of bliss and I’m not ready for that to end. Her smooth, silky skin, the scent of her hair, the curve of her hip under the weight of my palm; I could stay cuddled into her forever.

“Why a staircase,” Everly asks, dragging the tip of her finger over the ink.

“That one’s a little more complicated,” I tell her. “I got it for my parents.”

She gives me a curious look. “Tell me about your family, Jake. Who do you look like? Your mom or your dad?” My stomach torpedoes to my feet, but when I look down at Everly, I realize I feel safe. She makes me want to let my guard down. But the wounds from my parents’ death run so deep it’s not easy.

“I look like my mom, but my personality is more similar to my dad’s.” I say, not ready to say more just yet.

“How? What’s he like?” she asks, resting her chin on her forearm, which is draped across my chest.

“I can be quiet like my dad sometimes,” I say, watching the row of goosebumps that pops up over her skin as I brush my fingers down her arm. “Some people think I’m moody, but I’m not. I just like time to think, to be by myself.”

I can’t explain it, but there’s an ease I feel when I talk to Everly. I lift her hand to my lips and kiss each one of her fingertips. “I get that,” she says, nodding. “It’s smart. We all need time to relax and reflect. Time to re-center ourselves,” she murmurs. “So, are you close with them? I mean, with your parents?”

The question makes my heart stop. It’s been a long time since I’ve told anyone about my parents. Not many know the entire story. Everly shifts beside me, and when I look at her, she’s frowning.

“Jake, I’m sorry. I’m being nosy. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” I say, hating that she feels bad, but knowing we need to have this conversation. “It was going to come up sooner or later.”

She sits up to lean against the headboard, dragging the bedspread with her and I join her, feeling even more naked than I already am.

“When I was 12, there was a fire at my house. It started in the middle of the night… it started in the laundry room,” I say, a familiar anxiety creeping in. “A dryer vent was obstructed, and the machine overheated and caught on fire.”

Fuck. I hate telling this story. But I need to suck it up. I need to tell her.

“Oh my God. What happened?” she asks, but I can tell from the look in her eyes that she already knows the answer.

“My parents died.” There, I said it. The secret I keep locked up so tight.

“Jake…” Everly reaches for my hand, placing her palm over my knuckles. Her eyes are filled with compassion. She doesn’t push. She gives me the space I need to tell my story at a pace that feels right. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

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