Various States of Undress (11 page)

“Carolina,” he ground out, pushing himself deeper and deeper.

She threw her head back as she came, a thin, high-pitched cry ripping from her throat.

“Carolina,” he repeated, and then groaned loudly, his arms wrapping around her as he buried his face in the side of her neck.

Hot breath exploded on her shoulder, and she splayed her fingers across his skin, glorying in the feel of the shudders that coursed through his muscular back.

She was shuddering too, she realized—positively trembling in his arms. There was no thought in her head except for him. Except for Jake.

After an endless moment, he dropped a kiss onto her shoulder and rolled to the side, taking her with him. His hands, sure and swift, flipped the blankets over them and he gathered her close, his chin resting in the crook of her neck. He raised her hand up to his lips to place a lingering kiss on her palm and then he laced his fingers through hers.

With a long sigh, he relaxed against her, his chest warm and solid against her back. She sighed in return, letting her eyes slide closed. She was sated. She was sleepy.

She was also supremely happy, which set off a distant alarm bell. Could she pretend that the intimacy didn’t affect her so profoundly? But they were two people who liked each other—two people who lusted after each other and had given in to impulse. Nothing more, right? It was okay to lie here with him as if they were long-time lovers completely in tune with each other. Because that’s what it felt like. She snuggled closer, allowing her wariness to subside.

The little voice in her head didn’t like that one little bit. It nagged at her to ruin the moment—say something casual—something witty.

Really, Carolina?
It whispered.
This can’t end well.

“Shut the hell up,” she whispered back.

“Sorry. Was I snoring?” Jake tensed, lifting his chin from her shoulder.

“No, no. I’m just trying not to talk to myself,” she answered, snuggling their joined fingers close to her middle.

He chuckled, but it turned into a yawn.

“Sleep now, Jake. We’re both safe.”

He relaxed against her again, and within a moment his breathing was even. Deep. It lulled her toward sleep, but she didn’t feel as if she were sinking anymore. She felt as if she were floating.

Chapter Seven

T
WO HOURS LATER,
Carolina’s eyes cracked open and half asleep, she fixated on the undulating pattern of the knotty pine wall next to the bed. It looked the same, but something was different. Altered. She blinked once and then smiled. Oh yeah. It was
her
who was different because her entire universe had been altered. By Jake. This moment of her life was sheer perfection and she didn’t want it to end. Snuggling into the pillow, she pulled the covers over her head.

But as usual, tendrils of apprehension curled around the edges of her consciousness. They were easy to ignore—she wasn’t in DC, after all. She was truly safe from the typical things that drove her nuts every morning—people raising cell phones to snap photos of her as she walked into a Starbucks to grab a coffee before heading off to class, sidelong glances from fellow grad students as they pretended to be indifferent when she walked down the hall, but really weren’t. Nobody was indifferent about a First Daughter. Everyone had an opinion.

Right now, though? There was only one person’s opinion she cared about. Jake. She reached for him, whispering his name.

He didn’t answer. She paused, still curled on her side, her hands clasped together as awareness of his absence brought her fully awake, and then she rolled onto her back and felt the mattress beside her. It was still warm, so that was something at least. He hadn’t ditched her the minute she’d fallen asleep, but he hadn’t stayed, either. Really, what had she expected—that he would still be wrapped around her like a sexy octopus? The man had a job to do. It wasn’t as if he was going to bring her lunch in bed or something.

“Carolina? Are you under those covers? Respond, please.” Jake’s clipped voice came from somewhere near the foot of the bed.

“Well . . . yeah.”

Where else did he think she was going to be?

He let out a relieved-sounding sigh. “I had to make sure. There are a lot of blankets and pillows and . . . you’re small.”

“Small?”

“Petite.” He paused. “Delicate. Fragile-looking. Not to imply that you’re weak or something. Because I don’t think that.”

She flipped back the covers. “I hope not.”

Jake, grinning, stood at the side of the bed with a tray in his large hands. Spicy-scented steam wafted up from two bowls. “You hungry?”

She sniffed the air and smiled back at him. “Yes. You bringing me lunch in bed?”

“No. I’m bringing
us
lunch in bed.” He placed the tray carefully on the nightstand and crawled onto the bed, settling across from her, but close enough that their legs were touching. “I hope you like my special chili with shredded cheese and sour cream.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at his twinkling eyes. “You could bring me chili out of can and I don’t think I would care.”

“Oh, it’s out of a can, that’s for sure.”

She let out a laugh and Jake winked in response. He leaned down and retrieved her nightgown from the floor and handed it to her. “Here. Not that I want you to put it back on, but I assume that
you’ll
want to.”

“Your assumption is correct.” She sat up, letting the covers fall away from her briefly as she stuck her head into the neck opening. When she’d put her arms through the sleeves, she glanced at him. “I usually don’t make a habit of eating hot chili naked in bed.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Believe it or not, the possibility of third-degree burns on my boobs doesn’t excite me.”

“Boobs?” He looked alarmed.

She raised an eyebrow. “Um, yeah. Those small round things on my chest.”

“I’m painfully aware of them.”

“Painfully?”

“I mean that it’s been painful trying to keep my hands to myself. Not that I succeeded.”

She smirked at him. “Best failure ever in my opinion.” Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored the tray and continued to look at him. “My boobs are not the issue anymore, so why do you have that funny look on your face?”

He tried to smile. “Never expected the word ‘boobs’ to come out of your mouth.”

“Because of who I am.” She said it quickly, as if it was a given. Which it was.

Jake looked as if he might backpedal, but after meeting her gaze, his smile widened. “Okay, yeah. It just seems incongruous. Like—”

“Like what?” She cocked her head to the side.

He paused. “Never mind. The juvenile thought that just came to my mind would probably get me smacked. Either that or you’d think I was a weirdo.”

“No, I want to hear it.”

“I was going to say . . . hearing the word ‘boobs’ come out of your mouth is like witnessing a nun lighting a fart on fire.” He grimaced, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

“That’s disgusting.” Carolina glared at him, trying to control the laughter that burbled up in her throat.

“But it’s funny.”

“Hilarious.”

“Oh, come on.” Jake dropped his hands on top of her thighs. “You know it’s funny
and
you know that I wouldn’t have said it if I thought you had a stick up your butt.”

She smiled slowly, processing his words. Then she wiggled forward a bit, causing his hands to slide farther up. “I’m not a nun.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. I mean, no. You’re not.” His fingers drummed against her hips.

“And lighting anything on fire, even farts, is highly dangerous.”

“I know that. I would never put you in harm’s way like that. I mean, not that I expect us to be encountering nuns with Zippos or anything. That would be ridiculous. So, yeah. Uh, anyway . . .”

“Jake, are you tongue-tied?”

“I’d like to be,” he said gruffly. “Unless . . .”

Her breath caught as his fingers pressed into her hips. “Unless what?”

“Unless this morning was just a one-time thing,” he said quickly, pulling his hands away.

A rush of panic invaded her empty stomach. “Is that what you want?”

“No.”

She nodded. “Good.”

Pushing herself to her knees, she wrapped her arms around his neck and settled onto his lap. She rubbed her cheek against his scruffy jaw and then kissed it. “We have a whole week,” she murmured near his ear. “And I don’t want to think about anything besides you. I know that . . . that outside of this cabin our lives are what they are. But we’re not outside. Can we agree to enjoy ourselves until then? Enjoy each other’s company?”

He turned his face to look at her and the clear green of his eyes made her breath catch. He must have seen the expression on her face change, because he gave her a crooked grin. “I agree.”

“Oh, good. Think you could kiss me now?”

Groaning, Jake turned her sideways and covered her parted lips with his own. He kissed her softly, slowly. His tongue teased just inside of her lower lip and she angled her chin up, wanting more.

He sighed reluctantly. “We need to have some food.”

“No,” she breathed out. “I need—”

“I can hear your stomach.”

“Fine.” She gave him a tiny eye-roll.

Chuckling, Jake unwrapped her arms and settled her against the pillows. Then he smoothed out the blankets and carefully placed the tray between them. “Let’s eat.”

With a smile, Carolina picked up a spoon and dipped into a bowl of chili. “This looks good.”

“It’s not homemade, but it will do.” Jake winked at her and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. “Mmm. Mediocrity.”

Giggling, she handed him a cracker. “Was your mom a good cook?”

Jake nodded, glancing away. As she watched, he ate a couple of more bites and then cleared his throat. “Yeah. She didn’t have the patience for fancy cooking, though. Her temper kind of matched her chili. Talk about lighting things on fire . . . that would do it.” He gave her a quick smile and looked down at his bowl.

“Is she . . .?” Carolina asked, searching.

“She’s gone,” he said. “Five years now.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked up. “Thanks. Look—”

“I’m not trying to pry. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay. Uh . . . how’s school?”

She bit back a groan. “It’s fine.”

“But . . .” he prompted.

“But nothing. It’s okay.”

He chuckled. “You hate it.”

“No, I don’t!”

“I’ve seen the look on your face when you walk into class,” he said dryly. “You hate it.”

She hated it. She really did.

The classes were boring. Her heart wasn’t in any of the seminars, or the in-field hours spent observing at local schools. And her skeptical thesis advisor knew it, but he was too afraid to say anything because of who Carolina was. Both of them were going along with the charade, nodding and smiling at each other. And then someday, in the not-so-distant future, Carolina would be in charge of her own classroom. A few years later—too few based on actual experience—she would be a grade-school principal—again, because of who she was. Just thinking about it made invisible walls slam down around her, and before she could stop them, words ripped out of her mouth.

“I hate it so much. Just the thought of standing in front of a group of bored kids, day after day, shoving rigid curriculums down their throats makes me want to run screaming. I’d rather poke my eyes out than work with kids.” She frowned. “I’m horrible.”

“Not everyone is suited for that type of job. It doesn’t make you horrible.” Jake eyed her cautiously. “What would be horrible is to do it anyway, knowing that the kids would be getting an apathetic teacher.”

She stared at him. “You think I haven’t considered that? Worried about it?”

“I’m not trying to get in your head, Carolina.” Jake set his empty bowl back on the tray. “It’s just that sacrificing yourself doesn’t always result in helping others.”

“Says the man who lays his life on the line every single day.”

He folded his arms. “That’s different.”

It
was
different, and it hadn’t been fair to make the comparison. She knew that, but he had managed to sting her right where she was most vulnerable—her massive sense of responsibility. But still. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t appreciate his service.

“You’re right. It’s different, and I’m sorry. But I’m curious—why did you become an agent?”

Jake took her empty bowl and stacked it on top of his. “My dad was an agent.”

“Is he . . .”

“He’s still alive. Enjoying retirement.” With a grim smile, he lifted the tray and walked to the bedroom door. “I’m getting something to drink.”

Carolina scrambled up and followed him into the kitchen, watching as he puttered around. His shoulders were tense and when he pulled two bottles of water from the fridge, he let the door slam a bit too hard. She shouldn’t press him, but she’d caused his discomfort. She wanted to ease it.

“You looked up to your dad?”

Jake handed her some water. “I looked up to what made him who he was. I looked up to the job.”

She nodded. “Is the job everything you dreamed of as a kid?”

“Of course.” He saluted with his water, pulled off the cap and took a long drink.

Watching his throat work, Carolina leaned against the counter. She should stop with the questions, but she didn’t want to.

“You hate your job too, don’t you, Jake?” she asked quietly.

He went still, the water raised to his lips. His eyes, flat and cold, met hers.

Oh, God. Now she’d done it.

“That was out of line,” she said.

After a moment he looked away and turned toward the counter by the sink. He set the water there and folded his arms. “It was, kind of.”

“Jake, I—”

“But, you’re right.” He faced her. “I don’t hate it, exactly. Especially since
you
are my job. But when I’m not around you, it’s exhausting, boring and not nearly as glamorous as people think. I’ve always been used to working hard . . . pushing myself, no matter what I was doing.” He shrugged. “I’m good at this. I ought to be happy and grateful, right?”