Page 84 of Never Pucking Ending

Mom stares at me, blinking. “Honey, I love you but we both know you’re not a virgin. You’re in your mid-thirties. Plus, Debra next door to us told me she saw a boy climbing out of your window early one morning when she walking her dog. I highly doubt you two were in there just talking.”

My jaw drops. Did she…? Did she know about Corey this whole time? Then something else strikes me. She wasn’t referring to Jesse and I having sex together. I’m an idiot.

“I knew Debbie was judging me whenever I’d say hi to her,” I grumble in disbelief. Once, she told me that I could attend church with her family if I needed to confess anything. I didn’t go and couldn’t figure out what I’d need to confess much less who to confess it to.

Apparently, she thought I needed God in my life for all of my premarital sins. Whatever.

“Anyway,” Mom goes on with a wave of her hand, like it doesn’t matter that she knew I’d had sex as a teenager. “I’m not even sure a minister has the kind of patience to deal with you.”

Once again, I’m gaping at her. “Um. Rude.”

She winks at me. “A man like that has to be a saint but even they have limits, sweetie. You’re too good at holding yourself back.”

Jesse clears his throat after finishing his water. “I should go jump in the shower. If you let me know when you two will be back, I can have dinner ready. Or we can go out.”

Mom perks up. “A homemade dinner sounds lovely. Frank and I have been ordering takeout a lot lately.”

Jesse nods. “I’ll think of something to make then. Have fun you two. Call if you need me.” He directs the last line to me, looking briefly down at my lips like he wants to kiss me.

I force out a, “Will do,” before watching him disappear up the stairs to the shower where he’d gotten me off again. The second time with the shower head.

When I peel my eyes away from the stairs, Mom is looking at me funny. “Why are you so red? Are you feeling okay?”

I take a long sip of my coffee and smile at her, drowning out the inappropriate thoughts with the reminders of the millions of things I need to do.

“Oh, I’m great. Just thinking of all the ways I can get a good little Church boy to bring up God in the bedroom.”

“Belle!” she scolds, although I see the humor dancing in her eyes. “You are awful.”

I grin at her. “You started it, talking about sex. Finish your drink and then we’ll head out.”

She shakes her head but chuckles to herself. I can count the number of times I’ve been to church on one hand, and two of those times involved bringing clothes to the donation drop-off bin they had outside the building.

We’re gone by the time Jesse is finished with his shower, which is probably for the best. Or I’d be caught staring with little excuse next time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Belle

It’s almost midnight when I hear the door to my bedroom slowly creak open. Even in my groggy haze, I know it isn’t my mother. She’s always been famous for falling asleep by nine o’clock, just like she did tonight after insisting she could stay up and watch our favorite movie. Mom barely lasted thirty minutes into Bridget Jones’s Diary before she was snoring on the couch. Jesse had to help her to the guest room.

I sit up, blinking the sleepiness away as the dim glow from the hallway night light disappears when the door closes behind a large figure. It’s safe to say it can only be one person unless an intruder managed to get past the security alarm.

“Jesse?” I whisper, instantly smelling the familiar body wash he uses as the bed sinks down by my feet. “Are you okay?”

“It felt weird sleeping alone.”

My eyes take time adjusting to the darkness, but I eventually see his body turned toward me through the blur of half-sleep that weighs my vision. There’s no ignoring the little tap dance my heart does at his words, and I find myself smiling at him even if he can’t see it. “I thought you didn’t like sleeping with people.”

He grunts. “Thought we went over that. You don’t annoy me by snoring or taking my blankets.”

I stifle a giggle, not wanting to be loud. Mom is sleeping a healthy distance away from my room, but she hasn’t always been the heaviest sleeper. “Ah, yes. How could I forget when you put it so sweetly?”

He yanks on my legs to lay me on my back while murmuring, “Pain in my ass,” as I yelp a little louder than I mean to. Suddenly, he’s hovering over me. “I was in bed thinking about how I want to cuddle the shit out of you.”

Cuddle the shit out of me. Forget tap dancing. My heart is full on breakdancing in my chest. “I do enjoy cuddling.”

I’m not sure how, but I wind up on my side with his body lined up perfectly behind me and his arm around my waist. It’s comfortable. I nuzzle in, smiling to myself and letting that smile grow when I feel something long and very, very hard press against my butt.