Page 53 of Look What You Made Me Do

“Mmmm,” Jake sighed.

Even the brief, loud knock on the door wasn’t enough to kill his morning glory despite Ella withdrawing her hand like a child who’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

His cookie jar.

“Ella, are you awake?” Rosie whispered loudly on the other side of the door. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Jake chuckled and Ella dug him in the ribs. “I’m fine.”

“Jake? Is that you?”

“Morning, Miss Rosie.”

“When I said take care of her I didn’t mean seduce her.”

Jake could hear the smile in her voice all the way through the door. “What makes you think I seduced her?”

Rosie snorted. “Almost twenty years of friendship. Ella thinks too much.”

He laughed, remembering how she’d asked him to send her away. “That she does.”

“Hey, smart asses, I’m right here,” Ella grouched.

“I’m making bacon and eggs,” Rosie said. “You must both be famished?”

Jake was starving. But now Mr. Woody was involved, food was low down on his list of priorities. “No.”

“I do some mean mushrooms.”

“No.”

“And grilled tomatoes to die for.”

Jake laughed. “Go away, Rosie. Ella needs some more TLC.”

“No. I’m good,” she said, her stomach rumbling audibly.

“Really?” he asked, sliding a hand up to cup a breast.

It was gratifying to see her swallow. “Well…”

Jake brushed a thumb over a nipple that seemed more responsive to his suggestion than Rosie’s. “Really?” he murmured again, lower this time.

“Maybe I am having a relapse.”

Jake smiled. “Another time, Miss Rosie.”

“Okay, okay. But you know you’re passing up one of the best experiences of your life.”

Jake smiled into Ella’s eyes. “No, I’m not,” he murmured as he rolled on top of her and she spread her legs to accommodate him.

“Rosie really does make the best breakfast in all fifty states,” she said, twining her arms around his neck. “I know lumberjacks who’ve wept at her breakfast table.”

“I’m craving something a little different for breakfast,” he said, waggling his eyebrows before disappearing beneath the sheets.

Twenty minutes later, having thoroughly succeeded in wiping Ella’s brain of not only food but even more basic things like speech and the ability to name simple objects, Jake rolled onto his back, dragging in ragged breaths. The fact Ella lay beside him in a similar state of breathlessness made him feel like king of the fucking world.

The mid-morning sun pushed bright fingers around the drawn blinds, allowing him a proper look around her space. Ella’s room was surprisingly… girly. A lot of purple. A lot of bookshelves crammed with books. A print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night hung on the wall opposite the bed. Above it was a picture rail boasting a collection of nick-nacks.

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