Page 30 of Home for the Holidays

As I watch, he shoves food into the cabinets and the fridge, heedless of where things go. He’s pretty meticulous about his kitchen organization. He showed me his system on the second day and I’ve been mindful of putting things in their designated spot.

“Okay, all done,” Jake says, stowing the empty bags. “Let’s go.”

I blink at him. “Go where?” If it turns into a blizzard, I want to be safe in the apartment.

He reaches for me, and before I know what’s happening, I’m upside down, tossed over his shoulder like a rag doll. Like the first night, he carries me down the hall, lays me in his bed, and strips me bare. He fucks me sweet and slow, and then hard and fast, and when I come I scream so loud I’m fairly sure they can hear us two floors below.

I could get used to this.

twelve

. . .

Jake

When I wake up, Rachel is gone. So is my t-shirt.

Pulling on a pair of sweats and my slippers, I stretch my arms over my head as I search the small apartment for her. Snow falls steadily outside, and when I look down at the ground twenty stories below us, all I can see is a blanket of white.

She’s in the kitchen, wearing my t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks and nothing else. As I watch from the doorway, she stirs something in a big mixing bowl. Flour dusts the countertop.

“Whatcha doing?” I ask, leaning against the door frame.

She jumps, and whatever she’s stirring jolts, too.

“You scared me,” she pouts.

“You were gone.”

Crossing the room, I pull her into my arms, and she comes readily, leaning up to kiss me.

“Wanted to make you pancakes,” Rachel murmurs.

I pause. “I know we have a break for a few days, but I have to eat fairly clean.”

She smiles. “I know. I added protein powder and Greek yogurt to the batter.” Reaching for her phone, she shows me the recipe. “Protein pancakes are on your meal plan, right?”

Nodding, I kiss her shoulder. “You looked up a recipe for me?”

Rachel shrugs. “I wanted to make you something. You’ve done most of the cooking so far.”

“I like cooking.” It’s relaxing. After a long day at practice or in the gym, it’s my favorite way to unwind.

Well. My other favorite way would involve the two of us naked in my bed. But she has a life outside of me. I can’t ask her to quit her job and stay in my house, ready to be railed at any moment.

I can dream, though.

My arms wrap around her belly and I think of other dreams, too. Maybe one day, a few years from now, we could be standing here with her belly swollen with my baby, making these same pancakes. Sometimes there’s a toddler running around the place. Other fantasies have a dog barking in the background and a cat winding it’s way between our legs.

One thing is constant: Rachel.

It’s soon. It’s ridiculously early to have these types of thoughts. I’m afraid to bring them up to her in case she laughs herself out the door.

She’s got enough on her plate. She’s trying to figure herself out. I can wait. I can be patient.

I kiss her temple as she returns to her pancakes. She’s warming chicken sausages in the oven and chopped fruit for a smoothie. She’s thought of all my dietary restrictions and planned accordingly.

Fuck, I love this girl.