Sweet and Salty (Marshall My Heart #1)

33. Chapter Thirty-Three

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

J esse

I have no intention of seeing Laura on Sunday night when she returns from dinner with her family. None at all. But then Einstein follows me back up to my apartment, and Laura comes to find him, and…

The bed looks better three feet away from the wall.

On Tuesday, I avoid Laura. Until we both arrive home from work at the same time. We feed the animals, then I bend her over a tack box until she comes twice. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do to walk her back to her house afterward and make her dinner. If I wake up in her bed Wednesday morning, it’s only because it’s been a long day.

On Wednesday, Laura has book club at Time Enough at Last. I most definitely do not watch out the window for her car to return home, nor do I time my feeding of the animals to coincide with her arrival. It’s just a twist of fate. Laura has a box full of sex toys beyond her vibe, and we try half before we’re too tired to continue. We fall asleep locked together, her legs entangled with mine.

Tonight, Thursday night, is definitely not my fault. But there is a storm, with the promise of thunder and lightning.

I offer to sleep in the chair. Really, I do. I will go to my grave swearing it.

Laura’s head rests on my shoulder while I stroke her hair. I love her bed. I want to ask where she got her linens, but even if I bought the exact same set, I have a feeling it won’t be the same. It won’t be Laura’s bed, Laura’s quilts, Laura’s misshapen but obscenely comfortable pillows.

“Do you want to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” The words have escaped me but now that they’re out, I don’t feel anxious or worried. I relax deeper into her bed. “I heard at the store that there’s a new restaurant that opened in Egg Harbor. A farm-to-table thing. I thought maybe you’d like to go.”

“I know the pastry chef there.” She stretches and kisses my collarbone, and a warm fog suffuses my body. “She makes an incredible flourless chocolate torte, with warm cranberry sauce and a red wine-and-dark chocolate ganache.”

“You’re making me hungry.” I tilt her face toward mine and kiss her, long and deep. That’s the thing about kissing Laura Marshall. Every taste is different, more exquisite, filled with more flavors and sensations. I could spend four lifetimes just kissing her and it would never be enough.

She giggles slightly, which shakes her perfect tits against my chest, her nipples hard and pebbled. I pull more of the comforter around her to warm her up as the rain pounds on the roof over our heads.

“I can’t tomorrow,” she says softly, nestling against my side and deep into the cushions. “It’s the Friday fish fry down at the lake. Everyone’s going.”

“Oh.” Maybe if she goes out, then I will finally go back to my rented cabin and try to fix it up again. I’ve been getting far too comfortable at Laura’s house. I hope she doesn’t resent that. “Maybe another time.”

She pauses, tracing a circle on my chest. “You could come with me to the fish fry. It’s fun. Relaxed. People play Frisbee golf and sit around chatting and eating. Rory and Davey will be there. Davey’s been asking about you. He calls you ‘the grumpy lumberjack.’” She laughs again.

“Really only the lumberjack part is incorrect.” I stroke her naked spine, feeling the ridges of her vertebrae beneath my fingers. “And I’d go as…?” Why do I care? Why do I ask? I should not be in this bed. I should not be in this house.

I’m keeping my head down. That’s about the only thing I’m doing that Harbor Stryke told me to do. Damn Witness Protection.

My heartbeat pauses, waiting for her response.

“You live here now, Jesse.” Her voice is a soft breath against my skin. “You should be a part of the town. People like you.”

“Right.” People. Great. That really clears everything up for me. “Sure. I’d love to. I like fried fish.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

But I don’t fall asleep until the sun’s early morning rays break through the last of the storm clouds.