Page 33 of Raging Fires

Then there was the way he slept, all sprawled out on his stomach, sheet strategically covering his butt, and it was always such a temptation to slide that sheet a little lower. And even though of course she never did, it was embarrassing that she thought about it. What was the matter with her? You’d think she was a teen with the hots for her first boyfriend—or, really, the hots for Jake because he was the only guy she’d dated that she ever felt that much desire for.

It always caused a little catch in her chest when she walked into the kitchen in the morning and saw Jake standing there in his shorts, shirt off, feet bare, eyes still cloudy with sleep and his hair tangled. And if he smiled at her in greeting in that lazy manner, it was like a shock straight through, setting all her nerves dancing and damp heat spreading between her legs.

She couldn’t see that Jake was having any problems keeping to their rules. She would have thought that he would have more trouble with it than she did; as she remembered, he had always been willing and eager, easily turned on. Obviously he’d changed. Or maybe he just wasn’t turned on by her anymore.

Which was good. It would have been a terrible situation if he was always hitting on her. Touching her, kissing her, reminding her of when they’d spent a whole Saturday in bed, talking and kissing and caressing, making lazy love, or recalling the first time they’d had sex, so stereotypically in his car because they couldn’t wait long enough to drive home.

Sometimes it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he even remembered that time. She did. She remembered every detail—that white-and-blue striped sundress with the full skirt that had made it so easy, the white sandals she’d kicked off to crawl across the middle console, the sound of him laying the driver’s seat all the way back so there was room for both of them, the blue ribbon she’d wound through her thick braid of hair that he had teased apart and run his fingers through. He’d worn a blue shirt, and when he had first picked her up, they had laughed because their clothes matched.

There hadn’t been any laughing in the car later, though. Not even when she’d straddled him and he’d pulled her panties to the side and her butt had hit the steering wheel, honking the horn. They’d both been too intent on what was happening. The heat, the friction, the rhythm. That sound hadn’t had any hope of penetrating their haze. Even now, Kelli could remember exactly how it had started. Jake had squeezed her knee when he asked her a question, then left it there. Wetness had bloomed between her legs as he had moved his hand up her thigh. Her sharp intake of breath and involuntary moan had obviously urged him further and soon his fingertips had grazed against her underwear.

“Pull over,” she’d told him.

He didn’t have to ask why. It had felt inevitable from the moment he’d picked her up. She couldn’t remember what else they’d been planning to do, because all she could remember thinking about that night was how much she wanted to feel him inside of her. And it had been even better than she’d ever imagined.

But of course Kelli hadn’t asked Jake if he remembered. It would have been nuts to stir up any old memories. They were doing so well now, living together and being apart.

The worst times were the nights she wasn’t working at the bar. Then she and Jake were alone together, and there was only so much housework one could do in a house this size, especially with Jake actually picking up his messes and washing his dishes. The silence when they were alone together set her nerves on edge.

That was why one evening she suddenly said, “You want to watch Netflix?”

She knew it was a mistake when she said it and realized it even more when Jake, sitting on his bed in his nook studying his playbook, looked up, his eyebrows rising. “What?”

Kelli could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. Well, at least she hadn’t said, ‘Netflix and chill,’ but what if he took it that way anyway? Hurriedly she said, “I mean, I was going to watch a series or something, and it’s kind of hard to get away from the noise in here, so I thought maybe I should watch something you wanted to see, too.” She grabbed the remote to cover her nerves.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Sure. What are you going to watch?” He stood up and ambled to the couch, sitting down as far away from her as he could.

“I don’t know. Something you’d like to watch, too. Um, maybe an old horror movie?” It had been one of the things they agreed on, and they’d had a cheesy horror movie night for years. But maybe that had been the wrong thing to say, too. It carried a lot of old memories. “Or whatever.”

“Okay,” he said again in that same careful voice.

Why had she suggested this? Kelli jumped up, putting the control down on the couch between them. “Here, you choose one. I’m going to make some popcorn. You want popcorn?”

And that, too, was something they always did, but she had to escape for a moment and put a better lock on her nerves. She zipped around the kitchen, opening and closing three cabinets before she found the popcorn—which was right next to the rice where she always kept it—and sticking it in the microwave, then taking it back out to remove the plastic around it and putting it in again. She got out bowls. Better if they each had their own container instead of sharing the way they used to, her snuggled up against his side, his arm around her.

God, that would feel good. And, she had to admit, it wasn’t just because she wanted his body heat. Speaking of, she still needed to mention the temperature in the house to him. They’d been getting along so well recently and she hadn’t wanted to start a fight, but it was getting old. She’d had to start sleeping in full flannel PJs and it wasn’t comfortable.

“I notice you have the A/C set to Antarctica again. Do you think we could raise it a little so I don’t have to wear a parka during the movie?”

“I was wondering how long you were going to hold your tongue about it being a comfortable temperature in here.” Jake grinned.

“Comfortable? It’s not even 70 degrees! You’re from Phoenix. How is that comfortable for you?”

“Because I’m from Phoenix. We like our A/C.”

“The energy bill certainly doesn’t like it.”

“I’ll pay the bill.” He shrugged like it was no problem. Which, for him, it obviously wasn’t.

“No. We split it. Just like roommates.”

“Hey, if you want to waste your hard-earned money on my A/C, I’m not gonna argue with you.”

It was stupid. He had the money. Kelli didn’t. But it would be too couple-y to let him pay for it. And that was a slippery slope. Especially when she already kept staring at his arms, and his hair, and his lips. Kelli wished there was some part of him she didn’t find attractive so she could just stare at that. Why couldn’t he have a big mole or a skinny moustache?

“Can we split the difference and raise it to 74? Still too cold for me, not cold enough for you?”

“Sounds perfect. That way neither one of us is happy.” He grinned. “And if it gets too hot, I’ll just whip off my shirt.”