Page 17 of Crave

But when I go to tug the curtain closed, an intense twinge between my legs stops me from shutting out the view.

As a kid, Jake was hell on wheels. His parents praised me profusely for being the only sitter who could stand him and his brothers. It helped that they also paid profusely.

Jake was smart, but a rabble-rouser. There was the chemistry experiment that almost blew up the kitchen, the illegal fireworks that he charged the neighborhood kids a fortune to watch him set off.An experiential learner,his mom would say, exhausted.

When I went away to college, I wondered about him. The hell-raiser teetering between success and destruction. I had a soft spot for Jake, and I kept my fingers crossed for success.

Now I’m twenty-six, back home, and spying. My love life is in shambles. And Jake is standing directly in front of his window, stretching his muscled arms over his head.

A bulge tents the front of his jeans. He unbuckles his belt, slowly, and I bite my lip. My window’s closed, but I can imagine the clink.

When he unzips his fly, I squeeze my legs together. The intricate tattoo on his shoulder catches the light.

I would never be kneeling here, my breath quickening with excitement, every inch the voyeur, if it weren’t for this morning.

At six am, the crunch of wheels on gravel woke me. I crept to the window and saw Jake taking his family’s trash and recycling bins to the curb.

It was cool out, the summer heat not yet in bloom. But Jake was shirtless, and his pajama bottoms rode well below his hard waist, showing off the trail of hair pointing toward his crotch. I hadn’t realized he was home from college.

I haven’t been home much myself the past few years. Busy with grad school and Kevin, who just tossed me aside like a crumpled tissue.Better to end this now than after the wedding, Ella.

So I missed seeing Jake transition from boy to man.

And in the quiet morning light, he was magnificent. Lean and graceful, his short brown hair glinting in the first rays of summer sun. His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones defined. A tattoo swirled over his shoulder.

He was full of energy and life, and God, I wanted those right now.

Without thinking, I ran outside barefoot, grabbed our bins from the garage, and dragged them next to Jake’s at the curb.

“Hi, Jake,” I said breathlessly, like a seventh grader with a crush. “It’s been awhile.”

His face broke into a grown-up version of his trademark mischievous grin. “Hey, Ella. Too long.”

He took me in as I stood in front of him. Braless, my dark hair falling out of its bun, in my tight white tank top and little polka-dotted shorts. His eyes drank in my face and lingered on my breasts.

When I glanced down, my nipples, tight and puckered, poked insistently through the sheer white fabric.

“I guess it’s pajama day,” I joked, but my laugh caught in my throat.

“Then every day should be pajama day.”

“It pretty much has been. I’ve barely changed out of mine since I got home.” I looked away.

“Yeah, I heard your wedding’s off. I’m sorry.” He put his hand on my shoulder. When did he get taller than me? Like, six inches taller? “He didn’t deserve you.”

“That’s really sweet, but you know absolutely nothing about my ex-fiancé.”

“So tell me something to make it true. I hate being a liar.” He flashed that teasing grin. Totally ladykiller smile, and he had to know it.

“Fine. Let’s see… Right before we broke up, he said he could see me being the mother of his kids, but he couldn’t see having sex with me for the rest of his life.”

Jake let out a long, low whistle.

Jesus, why did I share that? Flushing hot, I rummaged through the recycling bin. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“Wildlyinappropriate. Moms are sexy.”

“Jake…”

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