Page 53 of Together We Burn
Chapter twenty
Stevie
“Alldone,”Isaid,slapping Jake on the shoulder, and he winced. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Want to see?”
He pushed off the toilet and angled his back to check out my handiwork. Sticking out his bottom lip, he nodded his head in appreciation, turned to face me, and placed his hands on my hips.
“Thank you, baby,” he said, and kissed my forehead.
I closed my eyes and embraced the fresh smell of eucalyptus and wild mint of his body wash that filled my senses, and a small part of me loved that it was on my skin too.
“You’ll need to keep an eye on it for inflammation. You might need to go to a doctor if it starts to look infected.”
“Aw, are you going to worry about me?” he teased, taking a strand of my damp hair between his fingers and twirling it, which seemed to be something he liked doing. I pulled it from him and shook my head, stepping out of his hold to gather up my clothes that smelled like fire and gasoline.
Holding his hand out, he said, “Here, I’ll chuck them in the wash.”
Handing over the small pile of clothing, I laughed. “You can cook and do laundry? Who’d have known you were so domesticated.”
Jake chuckled, leaving the bathroom and making for the hall. “I can do more than cook and clean, Stefany.”
I was staring as he walked away, having not noticed the low-hanging grey sweatpants he’d put on before. But I noticed now. His ass looked incredible with how the cotton hugged it. His back, in all its sculpted glory, even with my botched stitching skills, made me want to rake my nails down it.
My eyes moved up from the bubble butt he definitely had, up his muscled back, to his dark blue eyes fixated on me from over his shoulder. I closed my mouth, which embarrassingly had been wide open, as I ogled the beautiful man before me.
“Huh?”
He smirked. “I said I’m going to order takeout. Chinese okay?”
I stayed in Jake’s room until the food arrived. Call me crazy or even a fucking coward, but I couldn’t bring myself to go to his door after the last time.
Logically, Alex had been right. I knew this had all been orchestrated, that Emilia was an unhinged batshit crazy asshat who arranged the kidnapping and torture of her own daughter. But fool me once…
Thankfully, Jake had given me space since he’d left to put my clothes in the washer. Tonight had been intense, like a shift in the balance of what we were, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.
Or perhaps, I was overthinking it, and really, he thought I needed time to process what was written in my dad's letter. All that provided was more hurt and pain, and trust issues that I had in spades.
Again, I had broken down and used him as a comfort. The man who had made it abundantly clear that he would not stop trying to wear me down. The butterflies that took flight the moment Jake was around flapped their wings, fluttering against my stomach like mad as an involuntary smile grazed my lips.
A soft knock came from the closed bedroom door, and then Rocky appeared through the gap, pushing his furry head into the room as Jake followed behind.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, pushing myself to sit up against the headboard. Rocky bounded over and dropped his chin on the side of the mattress. I scruffed his fur and made a move to get up.
“You doing okay?” Jake asked, running a hand through his hair. I nodded with a tight-lipped smile. I was far from okay. Now the adrenaline was subsiding, the emotions I didn’t want to feel began to seep into the front of my brain slowly.
You are an intelligent girl, so use your brain.
“Food’s here; I hope you like chow mein.”
Holding out his hand, I placed mine in his as we walked through to his living room, which he’d made all cosy with dimmed lights, blankets over the sofa, and our takeout waiting on the coffee table.
Taking a seat, Jake handed me a box of beef chow mein, chopsticks, and a glass of amber liquid. Taking a sip, I instantly recognised the chocolate undertones of Michter’s Bourbon. I eyed him over the rim as I took another sip, watching as he smiled into his glass. Fucker knew exactly what he was doing.
Biting into the noodles, I moaned as the garlic and soya flavours hit my taste buds.
“Thank you, this is really good,” I said, pointing to the food with my chopsticks as I swallowed. Jake hummed in agreement while struggling to hold on to a piece of chicken, dropping it several times in the box until spearing it in the middle with one of the sticks.
I dug around the noodles, moving them around the container, finding the little pieces of beef I loved the most, eating them first. Alex always thought I was odd eating the meat separate to the noodles and veggies, but I liked what I liked. Why wait to eat the best parts at the end?
