He was definitely lying about the lawnmower, but why? Did he want to interrupt my date, or was he simply bored and felt like making a nuisance of himself?

My eyes go to the cubist-looking tattoo on one side of his chest. It’s definitely my favourite of all his ink, and he has a lot of it. It’s so vibrant on his smooth skin, and I have the sudden urge to touch it. His chest is rising and falling slowly. I reach out, and just when my fingertips meet his skin, his hand moves, swiftly grabbing my wrist. I startle, my attention going to his face. His eyes are still closed, his expression relaxed, but then his lips curve in a smile.

“What are you doing, Matilda?” he asks in a husky, sleepy voice.

Words fail me. He doesn’t let go of my wrist. Now he opens his eyes.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.”

There it is again. That “dahlin” will be the death of me one of these days. I try to pull my wrist away, but he holds on tight. In fact, he pulls on it, making me lean forward and dragging me closer to that delectable body of his. I suck in a breath.

“I came to have a word with you. You almost ruined my date with your stupid messages,” I say, but there’s no anger in my tone. None at all.

“Funny, it didn’t look like you came to have a word. It looked more like you came to feel me up in my sleep.”

I scowl at him. “I wasn’t feeling you up. I was only going to try to nudge you awake.”

He smirks. “Oh, that’s what it was, was it? Come here, then, and we’ll have a word.”

Quick as a flash he yanks on my wrist, pulling me down onto the bed with him. He moves me so I’m facing away from him, and then he wraps his arm around my middle so we’re spooning. Spooning! When I marched up those stairs, I never thought this was what would happen.

My heart speeds up, and so does my breathing. I can hear it all loud in my ears.

“So, go on. Put me in my place,” says Jay, his breath whispering over my neck.

“This isn’t how people have words, Jay,” I manage quietly.

“It’s not? But this is my favourite way to have words.”

“You messaged me on purpose. I know you did. You wanted to be a nuisance because you were bored.”

“Something you should know about me, I’m never bored,” he murmurs. “The chance for boredom would be a fine thing, but this f**king brain of mine never stops.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I told you, I was looking for the lawnmower.”

“The grass hasn’t been mowed.”

“I got tired, decided to go take a nap. You must be tired, too. You didn’t get much sleep last night. Let’s nap together.”

“I’m not napping with you. I’m still dressed. I haven’t even had the chance to take my shoes off.”

I don’t know why that detail seems so pertinent, but it’s what I focus on. Perhaps so I don’t have to focus on his hard chest pushing into my back.

He lets out a breath. “Go ahead and take off some articles, then, darlin’. I’m not going to complain.”

“Why would I nap with you?” I ask, speaking softly now. “I have a perfectly good bed right next door.”

“Because sleeping in a pile is the best way to sleep, and you can’t do that alone. Haven’t you ever read Where the Wild Things Are?”

“This isn’t a pile. This is a spoon. And just so you know, it takes more than two people to make a pile.”

“Wanna bet?” he asks, and then rolls us swiftly so I end up right on top of him. My body is lying flat along his, and I’m in danger of combusting. I can feel every sculpted inch of him, every hard line.

“Now we’re a pile. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep like this.”

“Stop betting me — you’ll only lose.”

He moves his legs between mine and uses his feet to push off my shoes. “And now your shoes are off. You should definitely be able to sleep now.”

There are a long few moments of silence.

“Jay,” I whisper.

“What, honey?” he whispers back, his hand stroking up and down my spine. I nestle my head into the crook of his neck and close my eyes. There’s no point in protesting anymore. I need to admit that this is probably one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Plus, I am pretty exhausted.

“I think I like sleeping in a pile.”

His answering chuckle vibrates through his chest, lulling me off to sleep.

Fifteen

When I wake up, I find that I’ve slipped off Jay and am cuddling into his side. My face is still in his neck, and his face seems to be in my hair. Oh, yeah, and I’m straddling his leg. Glancing down at our intertwined bodies, my eyes bug out when I notice his “evening wood.”

I can’t stop looking at it. And now I know the answer as to whether or not Jay has a big dick. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say it’s the good answer. Breathing in, I soak up the smell of him, a hint of sweat, a hint of cologne, and something that’s just him. I love how his smell is all over me right now.

Who’d have thought I’d finally go on my first ever Internet date and then come home and sleep with another man? It sounds quite adventurous when worded like that.

Jay groans. “Quit moving around, Matilda.”

His hand goes to my arm and grips it, seemingly to stop me from fidgeting. The heat from his hand makes me melt.

“I should go.”

He opens his eyes and frowns. “Why?”

“Because this is weird.”

“It’s not weird. We’re bonding. Lots of animals sleep together in order to bond. Don’t you ever watch the Discovery Channel?”

“We’re not animals.”

He gives me a devilish grin. “Speak for yourself.”

Moving his face to my hair again, he takes in a deep breath. Is he smelling me? Do I smell good or bad? I showered earlier, so I must at least smell okay. He moves his knee that’s between my thighs, and I let out a tiny gasp at the friction. The movement awakens something inside me, something centred right between my legs, and none of us need to have gotten an A in biology to figure out what that something is. His eyes travel quickly to mine, staring intensely when he moves his knee a second time. Sharp pleasure takes hold as I clench my thighs. He does it again, and I whimper. He stares at me, mouth hanging open slightly, eating up the sound.

Just like earlier, he grips my body and rolls us, but this time he’s the one who ends up on top. Using his thighs, he makes short work of parting my legs and situating himself between them. Still with our gazes connected, he slowly thrusts forward, his hard c*ck in his lounge pants pushing flush against my sex.

His eyes flicker back and forth between mine. “Yeah, this is definitely going to be a problem.” He says it so low it feels like he’s talking to himself.

My voice is breathy, more air than sound, when I say, “Jay.”

His hands come up to cup either side of my face as he rocks his h*ps forward again. “Matilda.”

He builds up a rhythm now, becoming frenzied. I hold onto his big arms, recalling the times I’ve seen him out in the garden doing body weight exercises. He had virtually no equipment, but managed to do so many things using just his body, like a prison workout. I wonder what other things he can do with it.

I lick my lips. What does this mean? Is he just horny again, like when he’d suggested going down on me? Or does he really want this?

He growls and leans down, taking the bottom lip I just licked into his mouth and biting it — hard. It doesn’t hurt. It feels incredible. Electric. I want him to kiss me now, so badly. Then the front door opens and shuts loudly, my dad’s trademark walk clipping down the hall.

Jay goes still as a statue, releasing my lip and pulling back.

“Matilda? Are you home?” Dad calls, and my breath leaves me in a rush.

“I really should go now,” I whisper, feeling mortified at what I’m doing with my parent just downstairs. It was like I was lost in a dream for a few blissful moments. My dad’s door slamming is what woke me up, and I feel stupid for falling into horny Jay’s trap.

He rolls over onto his back, and I get up, slipping my shoes on and hurrying to the door. When I reach it, I glance back at him one last time. He’s lying there, his eyes dark as he watches me, chest heaving, his arousal still blatantly evident through his pants.

With great effort I walk out the door, shutting it behind me and calling back to Dad, “Yeah, I’m home.”

***

The next morning is different from usual. Jay’s not around, and my breakfast isn’t ready for me like it has been every day since he moved in. In fact, when I pass by his room, I see his bed has been made and he’s nowhere to be found. He must have gone out early.

Dad’s sitting at the table, eating toast and drinking coffee, reading the newspaper as always. I grab a yogurt and some fruit, and sit beside him. When I notice the paper he’s reading is The Daily Post, I give a little tut of disapproval.

“Jay wouldn’t be happy about you reading that,” I say, opening my yogurt.

Dad peeks at me over the paper. “Jay’s the one who gave it to me. Una Harris has written another article about him.”

I perk up at this. “Really? What did she say?”

He puts the paper down now, opened on the page with the article so that I can see. There in a full-page spread is Jay standing on the stage in the part where he’d donned the Jason mask for his show the other night.

“Harris went undercover and attended Jay’s show,” Dad explains. “She wrote some unfavourable things. I think she’s feeling brave because he hasn’t taken any steps against her yet. He really needs to get that lawsuit filed. A couple of years ago she destroyed the career of a professional football player by doing an exposé of his background as a drug dealer before he was famous. I think she might be trying to repeat the success of that story with Jay. The woman is a pit bull.”

I eye my father. “You really like Jay, don’t you?”

“I can tell he’s a good man. I trust my instincts,” says Dad simply, and it surprises me because I’d had those same instincts myself.

I read the article, and this time I’m far more annoyed as I scan Miss Harris’ words. That’s probably because I know Jay now, and I’m defensive of my friends. She talks about how the venue was filled with super fans, and that Jay has a following akin to a cult leader. I roll my eyes.

She also mentions how he insulted her and her newspaper, shouting with fervour from his place on the stage, Fuck the Daily Post! I could strangle her right now. That is not what happened. It was an audience member who shouted that. I push the paper away from me after I’ve finished her five-hundred-word rant against Jay. What is this woman’s problem? What did he ever do to deserve her vitriol?

Absolutely nothing.

She’s like a wolf who’s gotten her teeth into some flesh and doesn’t want to let go. When I continue eating my breakfast, Dad says quietly, “I’m considering taking his case.”

This surprises me. “You are?”

He nods. “I didn’t want to at first, but the more I learn about it, the more I think we could actually win this thing, and win big. The practice hasn’t been doing too well this past year or so. Winning a high-profile case like this could inject some new life into the place.”

“It could. But do you think you’re up to it?”

Dad smiles. “I’m not dead yet, chicken. But don’t say anything to Jay. I need another few days to think it over.”

“My lips are sealed.”

That evening when I arrive home from work, I go into the kitchen to find somebody’s placed an expensive-looking chaise longue along the wall in front of my sewing machine. It’s made out of dark wood, the cushioned part a luxurious purple.

Jay’s doves chirp at me from their cage.

“Hello, ladies,” I greet them. “How are you today?”

“Are you talking to Ellen and Portia?” Jay asks in amusement as he enters the room.

I turn around, smiling. “Yeah. What of it?”

He walks over to the cage, taking Portia out and letting her perch on his hand. “It’s a coincidence, because I do, too. These girls are the only ones who know all my secrets.”

“Oh. You have a lot of secrets, do you?”

His only answer is a smile that makes my belly flutter. Is he thinking about what happened between us yesterday? I know I am, but I don’t have it in me to bring it up.

“So, I never got around to asking you how the date with Owen went?” he says in a casual tone as he pets Portia’s soft white feathers. I guess Jay’s not planning on bringing up yesterday, either.

I swallow. “It went great, despite my awkwardness. He even wants to meet up again sometime.”

Jay frowns at this, and it takes me off guard. “Do you want to meet with him again?” he asks, all serious.

“Sure. He was nice.”

I think I see his jaw twitch. “Nice. Is that what you’re planning to settle for, Matilda? Just nice?”

“I’m not settling. It’s early days yet. It could just so happen that he’s the love of my life, but I need more time to get to know him.” I don’t know why I’m saying this. In the back of my mind, I know that Owen isn’t going to be the love of my life, but some sneaky part of me wants to rile Jay up. He doesn’t seem pleased with the topic, which is by contrast pleasing me no end. He puts Portia back in the cage before striding toward me, backing me up against the counter.