Life in a Rut, Love not Included (Love Not Included series Book 1) (20 page)

D
INNER TURNS OUT TO
be incredible. The food alone is a reason to be a returning customer at this place. I’m sure that even if the place was left as-is, it would still be successful.

Antonio personally brought out each course, and took his time explaining to me the detailed ingredients and cooking methods that go into each dish. I could tell that Jack has been through this all before, since he was not paying as much attention to Antonio as he was paying attention to
me.

In-between courses, Jack explained to Antonio that I had finished the project on his restaurant and was ready to sit down and formulate the final steps. Antonio, of course, was over the moon with excitement and kissed my hands and my cheeks so many times, I lost count.

After a while, Antonio finally disappeared back into the kitchen.

“I am stuffed,” I say with a sigh. I am sure I cannot move at this point.

“Antonio spoiled you with all his entrees. He usually doesn’t personally feed individual bites to his customers.”

At that, I can’t help but laugh. Antonio did insist on preparing the perfect bite of lasagna fagioli so I would get all the flavors.

“This place is amazing,” I say. “I’m not sure it even needs a revamp with the food and a person like Antonio keeping busy.”

“Well then, just imagine how well it will do with your added touch,” he says, never taking his eyes off me.

Let’s talk about where my touch will hopefully be shortly.

“So, speaking of touch, are you ready to get out of here?” I say in my most whispered seductive voice ever.

“I’m not done yet, babe,” he says.

Why would he want to hang out at a restaurant when I just offered him a way better plan? I’m totally baffled . . . but also, did he call me
babe?
Because I think my lady parts just did a summersault.

I see Antonio returning from the corner of my eye. I notice he is coming towards us holding a plate with a slice of cake, and a lit candle on top.

Antonio sets the plate in front of me, bows to Jack and then retreats back into the kitchen.

Oh my god!

“Happy Birthday,” Jack says to me in a deep sultry voice.

“How did you—?”
Oh my god! I forgot my own birthday?!
With everything that has been going on lately, I didn’t even remember what month it was!

“How did you know?” I manage to ask.

I am so taken aback by the effort once again that Jack is going through to make me happy. This is just too much for me. I do the only thing I know to do in times like this when my emotions get the best of me.

I start to cry.

I can feel the tears falling down my cheeks. I see the pained and surprised look on Jack’s face, then I grab my face and bury it into my hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Why are you so upset?” He reaches out to try and pull my hands away from my face. I let him and then I look across the table at his worried expression.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I say, unable to further elaborate my question.

“Doing what?” Jack replies with a sense of shock and confusion in his voice.

“Being so perfect and so wonderful. For making me so happy again. For causing me to fall so incredibly, deeply and crazy in love with you.” When I finish, I put my face back into my hands. I can hear Jack exhale a breath which he seemed to have been holding throughout my whole tirade.

He moves the candled cake away, reaches across the table and with both hands cups my face. He lifts my face so I have no choice but to make eye contact with him.” Because I couldn’t stop being in love with you if I tried. I think I’ve been in love with you since day one. And all I think about and all I crave is to make you happy, to make you smile . . . and possibly to hear you scream my name on occasion.”

WOW . . .

I sniffle and wipe the tears that are falling down my face. “I’m sorry, Jack, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s OK,” he says.

“I’m in love with you, Jack.”

“And I with you, Sarah.”

I lean over the table as best I can without setting my shirt on fire and grab his face and crush his mouth to mine. He mirrors the same move and then we’re both head-locked in a passionate kiss. This time, the kiss seems different. With more meaning, more emotion. After admitting the strong emotions that were lingering at the edges of both our minds for some time, it all comes out in our kiss. It feels more
real.
Eventually we both break for air. I pull away and lean back in my chair.

He speaks first. “Now can we finally move on and cross another thing off your list,” he says.

“And which one would that be?” I ask.

He picks up the cake with the candle still lit.

“Make a wish, baby.”

W
AITING UNTIL WE GOT
fully into Jack’s house was simply not an option. With so many words and feelings being tossed around, there was no way we were going to be able to keep our hands off each other long enough to make it in the house, let alone the bedroom.

After heavily making out in Jack’s truck, we finally head towards the house. Jack is carrying me while I have my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck, my tongue deeply down this throat.

I can’t believe he told me he loves me. I can’t believe I spit out that I love him! Was it too soon? I don’t even care. My feelings for him are running so deep that I’m sure I could have told him after day one.

He said he loved me since day one.

The thought just pushes me even deeper down love’s throat.

“Turn the knob,” he says through his teeth and my lips.

Getting good at not breaking our kiss, I continue to wrap my tongue around his while I take an arm away from his neck and push my arm behind me to open the door, which crashes open and we stumble inside.

Jack walks in and stops just long enough to kick the door closed with his foot.

“I love the way you kiss me,” he rumbles. “I can sense your desire through your giving mouth.” He walks me back towards the bedroom. I’m getting familiar with this routine.

This time, instead of tossing me on the bed he gently sets me down on my two feet. We lock eyes and I can’t help but notice our breathing is heavy and Jack is straining to keep himself in control.

This time I feel like it’s my turn offer the dessert. I slide down to my knees and start unbuckling his jeans. Pulling his jeans down, along with his boxers, I can see his arousal in great force. Jack is definitely ready for dessert.

I look at him one final time then place my mouth around home plate. He groans so loudly I almost pull away. The inkling of hesitation sends his hand in my hair and then he cradles my head to continue.

“Oh my god, you feel so good around me,” he groans in a strangled voice.

I continue my feast of pleasuring him while I add a bonus feature and cup his goods. That receives another groan and a squeeze of my hair.

I can feel how bad this is affecting him with the hardness of him in my mouth. Every movement I offer, he clenches his hand in my hair tighter and the sounds of approval are beyond satisfying. Before I know it, he yanks up and aggressively tosses me on the bed. He throws off his shirt and flings it on the floor.

Jack crawls onto the bed and leans just above me. He unbuttons my jeans and yanks them down my legs. Then he disassembles me from my panties. Moving on top of me, he lifts my shirt from my stomach and over my head. He then proceeds to toss my jeans, shirt, and panties onto the growing mound of clothes on the floor.

“You are so beautiful, Sarah,” he practically hisses, then he dips down to press his lips to my chest. He moves alongside my breasts while taking one hand behind my back and unclasping my bra. With ease, he breaks me away from my bra. “Simply beautiful,” he says again, then presses his open mouth around my nipple.

God he feels so good.
I arch my back to give him fuller access and he eagerly obliges, cupping my breast in his hands while erotically assaulting my nipple with his mouth. I may climax if he keeps this up. I am about to beg him to do dirty things to me if he doesn’t give me what my body is so desperately aching for.

Knowing my body well by now, Jack releases my breast and nudges my legs open with his hand. With one hard push, he thrusts himself inside me.

I am seeing stars . . . and I haven’t even climaxed yet! This is how amazing Jack is. His left hand is gripping my hip so tightly it is burning my skin, while his right hand is cupping my breast.

He does what I am hoping at that point and goes for the take. His mouth wraps around my nipple and I moan so loudly I don’t even recognize my own voice. I am so close to exploding but I don’t want this to end. We are wrapped up tightly in each other and it feels so good.

I can tell Jack is at the brink of breaking because his thrusts are gradually speeding up and they are getting harder. Deeper. I wrap my legs around his waist to remove any extra space between us and hold on. Two more pounding thrusts and we both simultaneously climax.

I feel his body crush against mine as he tries to control his breathing. His weight is heavy but feels both wonderful and safe. I hold him in place, hoping he will stay this way forever.

I can feel our hearts starting to beat in unison at a normal pace. And then Jack lifts his head and kisses my neck.

“I love kissing you, Sarah. Your skin is so soft,” he says, his breath slowly steadying. “I love hearing you come. Your sweet moans drive me insane.”

I take my hand and brush away the loose hair hanging in his face. “You are the perfect one, Jack,” I tell him.

We stare at each other for some time until he breaks the silence.

“God I love you,” he says, brushing his nose along mine.

“Well I love God too. But I think I may love you more.”

Jack chuckles, then grabs a hold of my hips in preparation for round two.

I
WAKE UP TO
Jack nuzzling my goods. Best wake-up call for me—ever. Breakfast of Champions for him. After wearing ourselves out . . . twice . . . we take a shower. It is truly amazing the things one finds enough space to do in the shower, I have to admit.

Because it’s Sunday, I am so exhausted. In the past forty-eight hours—which consisted of Friday night on repeat into Saturday, then of course into Sunday—I am unsure my body can hold up for another orgasm. Not that I am one to wave the white flag but if I don’t get a decent amount of food and caffeine in me, I am going to die of sexual exhaustion. What would my poor mother say? Would they write
death by sexual exhaustion
on my tombstone?

Freshly clean, dressed in jeans and one of Jack’s T-shirts, I head towards the kitchen, where Jack is already preparing breakfast. Or lunch. I am not even sure what time it is. I enter the kitchen to the punch of coffee and various other aromas invading my senses.

“Oh good heavens, that smells glorious!” I exclaim. “I am starving.”

After Jack pulls some sort of egg concoction out of the oven, he sets down a plate and slides a variety of danishes and fruit in front of me.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, while pulling bacon off the stove.

“When? I don’t remember doing any sleeping.” When he turns to me, I look at him and continue. “I’m not sure anyone sleeps when inside this house. I might have to go on a sabbatical from you just to get some sleep!”

Jack starts to laugh and slides two slices of bacon on my plate. He reaches over and pours coffee into the mug in front of me and places the cream and sugar within my reach.

“If you dare try and hide from me, I will have to find you, and definitely go back on my word and tie you up in my bedroom and share you with no one.”

I debate whether or not to argue with him but just looking at him makes me realize that there might be a hint of truth to his statement. OK, note to self: no hiding from Jack or he will come find me.

He finishes making another plate, then sits down beside me on the island bar. He grabs for a piece of danish and fruit and turns to me.

“Open,” he says and slowly begins to feed me.

We spend the next hour eating breakfast, half of which Jack insists on feeding me himself. I ask how he became such a good cook, and he admits that he learned the history of fancy food from his ex who was a food connoisseur for a high-profile food magazine in Chicago, so the second-hand food lessons came with the territory. I have to admit, it gives me a bitter taste in my mouth. As much as I enjoy a good piece of creamy danish and eggs, I do not enjoy knowing how someone could just get up and leave a man who recently lost his only family. Why couldn’t she just ditch her so-called
future plans?
But then that thought makes me realize that I think I would do anything for Jack.