Page 52 of Jump

Humored, he flips my book open and scans random pages. “Woman is experiencing loss and dealing with her trauma after some nasty shit happens to her. Hero steps in and sweeps her off her feet.” He purses his lips and stares straight into my soul. “You ran the risk of handing me a terrible cliché, Vivian.”

“Really? I felt it suited you perfectly. What, with the book-hero thinking he was what she needed to heal.”

“She needed him.”

“No, she needed to find herself. She needed to heal herself. He was just…” I bring my wine up and sip, if only to hide my grin. “An enjoyable side benefit.”

“A side benefit who brought her multiple orgasms, found her G-spot on the first try, and pushed her into getting out of her shell a little more. Don’t pretend he wasn’t instrumental in her healing.”

“His contribution was in the form of encouraging her to find her own strength! He didn’t fight her demons. He didn’t sweep in and slay the dragon or save the day. He was her sounding board and cheer squad in the times she felt low.”

“He made her come on his face.” He puckers his lips obnoxiously. “Multiple times.”

“Mmhm.”

And damn, damn, damn my core for tingling at the memory of our night together. The intimate journey he took us on. Because where I was too shy, even as Ana, to speak up and tell him what I liked, he was intuitive enough to know what turned me on, and bossy enough to demand I use my words.

I came on Matteo Ruiz’s face that night, too. I gave him all of me, and he cherished what was so anxiously handed over.

“So, apart from all the sex,” I drawl, “how’d you like the story?”

“I’m not ready to pass on the sex yet.” He grabs my wineglass so I jump in place, then he carries it to the fridge and refills what I hadn’t even realized I’d finished.

“He was pretty skilled in the bedroom, right? And she was just… putty beneath his hands. Completely and ridiculously malleable.”

“Sure.” I keep my focus on his hands. So large, so certain as he re-caps the wine bottle and sets it back in the fridge. “I guess that could be fun, if you wanna bang play-doh.”

He snorts and sets my glass down where it began. “He sure as hell liked it.” Then he plops down on his stool and studies me across the counter. “And I liked reading about it. I see why you enjoy the whodunnit with a romantic side plot… Keeps things fun, even when they’re off the clock.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a good book if they didn’t work all day and screw all night.” My lips roll into a teasing smirk. “Who needs sleep, right? Or to go to the bathroom. Or just… enjoy quiet time.”

“No one inside a thrilling book, that’s for sure.” He nods over my shoulder. “At the risk of sounding crass, I read about this interesting move recently and wanna try it out. Care to be my practice partner?”

I choke out a laugh and smack his shoulder. “You pig!” Though, somewhere in the back of my mind, my brain screams Yes please! Pick me! “That is not the way to solicit a woman for a good time. It’s presumptuous and mocking.”

He leans forward on his elbows so our noses are a mere foot apart. “Presumptuous, yes. Mocking? No. Wanna hang out on the couch instead? It would appear we’ve found a common interest in books—which should, reasonably easily, translate to movies.”

I know my cheeks warm. I’m painfully aware that my eyes widen. Yet I’ll be damned if I can control the stutter on my tongue. “Y-you want to watch a movie with me?”

“That’s what I asked. We ate. We drank. We enjoyed a scholarly discussion and debated books. Now we need a movie to round out the evening. Once we’re done, I suppose we could consider this a successful date.”

“A-a date?” Stop stuttering, stupid! “I didn’t realize that’s what we were doing.”

“Unofficially,” he responds easily. “We’re roommates first, budding…” he wrinkles his nose, “friends second. I don’t want to screw with that. But we had something else once, and we’d be doing ourselves a disservice to completely ignore it.”

“So you want to…” Date? Fuck? Be friends with benefits? “Um…”

“I want to not ignore what was real,” he cuts in before I can spiral any further. “And I don’t want to make things weird between us. It’s just a movie, Ana. Pictures on a screen. So harden the fuck up and point your eyes toward the black wall for two hours while I do the same. It’s nothing more than that. Nothing less.”

“I need a shower first.” I push off my stool and restrain myself from simply bolting along the hall to hide under my covers. “I’ve been working, and my day kinda sucked, so…”

“Shower.” He waves me off with one hand while grabbing my plate with the other. “I’ll clean the kitchen and wait for you.”

“Oh, no. You cooked, you shouldn’t have to—”

“Go have a shower, Ana!”

I jump at his shout, but his fast grin settles the nerves clawing their way along my throat.

---