AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“For?”
“Dinner” had jumped out of this mouth.
Jake typed a number into the monitor before the large wrought iron gate entrance. It opened and they drove through. The sun had already set, but the moon highlighted the rows upon rows of the vineyards as they drove along a twisty path. Before they pulled up to a Victorian home, two men dressed in black greeted Jake. One took his keys, while the other gestured toward the door and said, “Please follow me, Mr. Skyler. We have been anticipating your arrival.” Opening the doors as they moved through the restaurant entrance, “I will take you directly to your room, sir,” the man said.
“Room?” she whispered, raising her eyebrows as she glanced sideways at him. He encapsulated her fingers with his own, squeezing, his face distracted.
The laugh brewing in her chest had popped out as a whispery giggle. She watched his lips twitch and wondered if he wanted to say something or was trying to control an internal conversation.
“What?” he asked, his features growing stern, his grasp on her hand firming as they’d followed the maître d’ down a long hallway. Passing door after door, she thought she’d counted eight of them.
“What? is exactly the question I wanted to ask you,” she’d quipped back, wiggling her hand within his vise grip. “Jake, I’m not a football.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He’d grimaced, slightly relaxing the tension in his clenched fingers, his eyes brimming with anticipation. The realization that he had something planned shifted her lightheartedness to consternation. He just won another playoff game and they were going to the Super Bowl. Why the hell was he acting so odd, almost cagey? It was like he was flitting between thoughts. Finally, they walked through another door at the end of the hallway.
As they entered, she’d arched back, halting mid-step. A table near a fireplace stood in the middle of a dark-walled room, the only source of light besides the fireplace two candle sconces. It was as if they’d stepped back in time. Jake smiled back at her, tugging her hand, escorting her to the table. He pulled out a navy leather wingback chair, motioning for her to sit, scooted the chair back toward the table, then sat across from her. The maître d’ walked to the cabinet and lit the candle on the table before setting two large golden-looking goblets in front of each of them. He then told Jake he would be retrieving the wine Jake had requested, then pointed to a door, stating that was the bathroom—a private bathroom for them.
“Jake this is…amazing.”
“It’s a pretty unique spot. I’ve been wanting to bring you here, and I took the chance that we would be celebrating with wine tonight and…”
“And you should be partying with your team. They probably don’t like it that…”
“I’m grabbing every second alone with you that I can. I mean Christmas was a blur…my family, Dwayne…and Jaxton. I get that Jaxton didn’t have anywhere to go, but that was painful. He said maybe three words and only when you asked him direct questions about books…”
“He’s read so many books, books most people haven’t read.”
“It’s impressive, but,” Jake had huffed, “you’d think some of that would transfer to conversation. If you read a lot that should mean you have an extensive vocabulary.”
Rakell snickered. “Not necessarily, and just because a person talks a lot doesn’t mean they necessarily have something worth hearing,” she’d stated, picking up the goblet.
His eyebrows shot up. “I hope that wasn’t intended for me, Sweets.”
“Not at all!” she’d replied, smirking. Since their time on the boat in Tahoe, something about Jaxton had been weighing on her. Then, even though Dwayne insisted he join at Christmas dinner, he only stayed to eat. He wiggled in his chair like the cushion was actively pinching him. Rakell kept thinking he was about to crawl out of his own skin. His eyes darted from side to side as if sharing a meal with people was torturous for him. After dinner, he shook Jake’s hand and thanked him “for opening your home to me.” His eyes were downcast, and the stiff way he delivered that line made Rakell think it had been rehearsed countless times. “I just think he has a lot going on in his head, and it stays locked in there.”
Jake had smiled at her. “Are you analyzing him?”
She’d laughed. “I get the irony in that. I still need to work on sharing my thoughts,” she whispered.
“I like your non-verbal communication style,” he’d said as the waiter set down a dozen Miyagi oysters, explaining that they were from off the coast of Washington. He directed his next words to Jake, explaining how they had cultivated the menu Jake chose and even prepared a low-sugar dessert. He said how honored they were that Jake would bring his girlfriend to their restaurant, then poured more wine and said he would give them ample time to enjoy the oysters.
“Well, Mr. Skyler, what are your intentions with these oysters?” Rakell had taunted, using the tiny spoon to scoop pepper-relish onto the oyster, then fixed her stare on Jake. He watched intently as she slurped the briny, small, fleshy oval into her mouth, swallowing ever so slightly as it slid down her throat. “Mmm…the initial hit is always sort of a shock to me,” she said, feeling her spine stiffen as the coolness manifested in her esophagus.
He’d nodded, tipping a shell to his lips before swallowing. “I’m guessing you like shock, darlin’, the acid of the relish hitting your tongue, working to keep your throat relaxed as it oozes its way down. You know it’s coming yet you can’t completely prepare for it. I think you live for that.”
“Mr. Skyler, are we still talking about seafood?” she’d cooed, opening her mouth widely to invite another piece of salty slime into the gulf of her throat.
His eyes had lowered to her lips as he sucked his own into his mouth. “Goddamn, do that one more time…”
“Is that a dare?” She’d fixed her eyes on his as she picked up the silvery shell with her fingers, dousing it in the sauce, then methodically bringing it to her lips, mindful of the contrast of her pink lips to the gray shell as if a camera was up close and she was shooting a lipstick commercial. Every minuscule motion she made with her mouth and tongue would be caught on screen. She ignored the waiter pouring Chablis into their wine glasses. As the waiter stepped away, she tipped back the shell, letting the oysters shock her anew. She took in the sound of Jake’s sharp intake of breath, his chair scraping against the wooden floor, and the shuffling footsteps of the waiter quickly retreating.
Jake had commanded, “Give us some time.” Then the door to the private dining space closed with a thud as Jake’s hand extended toward her. “Get up.”
Once Jake heard the door slam shut, he didn’t wait for her to respond, one hand pulling the chair back as the other tugged her upright. “Jake?” She gulped, finding her footing.
“Hush, bad girl,” he’d sneered. He jerked them toward the bathroom door, pulling her in and locking it. He spun her so she was facing an ornate oval mirror hovering on the wall above a small square black marble vanity. “Put your hands here,” he directed, grabbing her wrists and placing her fingers on either side of the copper sink. “Flat, flatten them on the counter…now!” he growled. “Now.” Letting go of her wrists, his fingers crawled up the back of her sweater dress. “You listened…” he said, stroking her bare ass as the cashmere gathered around her waist. “Good girl,” he praised mockingly. She responded by sticking out her tongue. He raked a fistful of her hair into his long fingers, tugging, and said, “I take that back—bad girl,” watching her in the mirror as he unzipped his pants and pushed them down along with his briefs.
“Jake,” she’d managed to squeeze out between jagged breaths just as he was nudging the small of her back forward.
