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When Jacob slid into my body—hard and ready—it was already too late.
I was lost in him and the unimaginable ecstasy he brought with every stroke. Each thrust turned my body practically inside out with pleasure, waves of sensation crashing over me, drowning me in bliss. And then, as quickly as it started, he passed out, leaving me breathless and staring at the ceiling.
I slunk out of bed, feeling a mix of exhilaration and embarrassment.
The next morning, the sunlight creeping through the curtains felt like a spotlight on my shame.
There he was. Jacob. Half-naked and searching for water in the kitchen.
The silence between us was broken by his groan and complaint about a splitting hangover. He remembered nothing of our night together—just the headache from too many drinks.
I feigned indifference, but inside, a strange cocktail of relief and disappointment brewed.
How could something that felt so unforgettable for me be completely erased from his memory?
As the days passed, I'd managed to avoid Jacob, losing myself in work for Nonna's sauce company.
I couldn't help but feel a little smug knowing that I held a secret over him. It gave me a sense of power that I didn't want to admit to enjoying.
That is, until that pregnancy test came back positive.
Our stolen moment began to weigh heavier on my conscience. Was it fair for me to keep this from him? Shouldn't he know what really happened?
I decided it best that he didn't. If Jacob Walker had so many one-night-stands that he couldn't remember them, then this would just be another one to add to his list.
I could raise the baby on my own. I didn't need him or anyone else for that matter.
And I hadn't wavered on that...until tonight.
Tonight, surrounded by his teammates who clearly adore him, I remember why I crushed on Jacob all those years as a kid. His charm, his sense of humor, and yes, even his cocky confidence.
I head home, thinking it’s nothing more than the lasagna in my system talking.
But soon enough, I'm in my pj's, flipping through the streaming options when there's a knock at my door.
I peek through the peephole and my mouth drops.
It's Jacob. Standing on my doorstep with a sheepish grin and a take-out bag in one hand.
"What on earth?" I mumble as I open the door. "Jacob, what are you doing here?"
He lifts the bag. "You forgot your leftover lasagna."
"I know," I say, hanging onto the edge of the door. "I ate so much of it that I was afraid if I took any more home, I'd break my kitchen table."
He steps closer. "Oh, come on. I've seen you tackle more food than this. Remember Nonna's Christmas feast with the stuffed shells and the fried calamari?"
Suddenly my mind is alive with memories of sneaking bites of food from Jacob's plate while he wasn't looking and of playfully stealing the last cannoli from him.
"Okay, okay," I laugh. "Maybe I have a bottomless stomach."
He nods and his smile widens until it almost meets his ears. "That's more like it."
"So, you came all the way over here just to give me my leftovers?"
"That, and this." He pulls out a chocolate bar from behind his back and hands it to me. "I know your weakness for dark chocolate."
My heart flutters as if we're still teenagers flirting in Nonna's kitchen.
