***

The next morning I get up early to help Dad pack. Every couple of months he and his friend Marcus go on golfing weekends down the country. Usually I don’t like being alone in the house, but since Jay is going to be here, I’m not so down about it. In fact, I’m really looking forward to being alone with him. What? I own a vagina and he’s Jay Fields; therefore, I’m allowed to be excited, even if nothing’s going to happen.

After Dad leaves, I make a trip to the fabric shop in town to stock up, planning a long weekend of dressmaking. I even have two new online orders to work on.

Arriving home, I find Jay in the garden, working out. I leave him to it for a while, then decide to go and see if he wants anything to eat. I’m being brave because it’s hard not to get all flustered when he’s sweaty and topless. Just as I’m about to walk out the door, he’s walking in, and we clash. He’s holding an energy drink, and it spills all over my top. I gasp loudly when the cold liquid hits me.

“Shit, sorry!”

Jay goes to grab some paper towels and comes back to help dry off my top. I stand there, speechless, as he dabs at the wetness. It’s one of those surreal moments where I can’t believe what’s happening is actually happening — mainly because the spillage is in the general vicinity of my boobs, and therefore, Jay is touching my boobs.

I breathe quickly when his thumb accidentally brushes my nipple through my thin bra, and his hand pauses. Every second feels like an eternity. I make the mistake of looking up into his eyes. He looks…hungry. When his hand moves again, it isn’t a dab, it’s a caress, and a strangled whimper escapes me. The paper towel falls from his hand as he full-on feels me up, still maintaining complete eye contact. If I wasn’t consumed by nerves, I’d probably slap him for being so brazen. There’s a question in his gaze.

Can we…?

His hand cups my breast, and I let out a quiet, barely audible sigh. I close my eyes.

“Matilda.” His voice is low, gravelly.

“Hmmm?”

“Look at me.”

I look at him. His other hand comes up and starts caressing my other breast, slowly, carefully, as though he’s savouring every moment. Both hands move down in unison and pinch each of my nipples. I moan loudly, and his face hovers over mine, his mouth open as though swallowing the sound.

Then he speaks. “This top is ruined. Let’s get it off you, darlin’.”

He starts to pull it up over my head, and I don’t stop him. It’s the oddest moment for me to think of yesterday, when he’d slipped his hand inside the businessman’s pocket. I hadn’t seen him take anything, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t. I’m standing in front of him in only my bra now as his eyes drink me in. My chest heaves, but the question niggles at me, pushing to be asked.

“Jay?”

“What is it, Matilda?” he purrs, stepping forward as I take a step back. When my back hits the wall, he stops, his chest a bare inch away from mine.

“What did you steal from that man yesterday?”

His brow furrows, and his head tilts to the side. “What man?”

“The one outside the newspaper building who you bumped into. I saw you slip your hand in his pocket. I remember him from the casino, you know. You couldn’t stop staring at him.”

He swears under his breath, his hand coming up to caress my face as he whispers, “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“But I did. So tell me what you took.”

“You really are my little Watson, aren’t you? Nothing escapes these baby blues,” he says, and it feels like he’s trying to distract me with the compliment.

“Jay, I want to know what you took. You can’t go stealing from people who work for the newspaper when you’re trying to build a lawsuit against them. Any tiny detail could go against you in court.”

“What if I told you no one will ever find out about it?”

“I’d still want to know. I don’t like lies.”

“This isn’t a lie. It’s a secret. One I need to keep for now, but I will tell you…someday.”

I purse my lips, suddenly irritated by the sticky energy drink that’s coating my skin. I frown and sidestep him, grabbing the top he just took off me and walking to the door.

“I need to go take a bath and wash this crap off me,” I mumble.

“Matilda.”

“It’s fine. You can keep your secrets, Jay. Just don’t expect me to fully trust you so long as you do.”

There’s an odd expression on his face as I walk out of the room, a strange mix of frustration and hurt.

Eighteen

Upstairs, I close the bathroom door and lock it before exhaling a long breath. Once I’ve gathered myself, I fill the tub. After what just happened, I don’t trust Jay not to waltz right in while I’m bathing. I’m still annoyed at him for being secretive, but I’m also regretting putting a stop to whatever it was we were doing. These days it feels like I need his touch like I need air to breathe, and it’s so seldom that I actually get it.

I strip off once the tub’s full and step in, the warm water soothing my nerves. It’s like every single one of my muscles is wound up tight.

I stay there for a long while, my eyes closed, trying to forget about Jay’s hands on me. It was so unexpected, and I can still feel him touching me, how it made me ache, made me instantly wet. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man, and even then he wasn’t really a man, just a boy. My ex-boyfriend (and only boyfriend) was the same age I was. Neither of us really had a clue what we were doing half the time.

I can’t imagine it being like that with Jay. Granted, he’s only four years older, but he seems so much more…experienced than I am. I feel like he could teach me things I couldn’t even fathom. I see him in my head, out in the garden doing pushups on the grass, his muscles moving, flexing, sweat dripping off him.

It’s times like these that I wish I owned a vibrator. Christ, I feel like I didn’t even own a libido until Jay came into my life. Now my mind is just a churning bucket of frustration and sexual thoughts.

I remember the night he’d offered to go down on me. He probably puts just as much dedication into the act as he does everything else. My skin tingles just thinking about it, my nipples hardening in the water. My hand rests innocently on my belly, but as my erotic thoughts take over, I start to stroke my skin, breath whooshing out of me as I imagine Jay’s hand doing it.

My thighs fall apart as my fingers move lower, dancing whisper soft over my sensitive flesh, my clit throbbing to be touched. A second later I jump in fright when someone knocks on the door.

“Darlin’, can we talk?” comes Jay’s deep voice. I have to bite my lip not to moan at the sound of it. Feeling daring, I seek out my clit, rubbing it slowly. I mean, the door is locked. He’ll never know. A little thrill goes through me.

Finally, I answer quietly, “This isn’t a good time.”

I hear his body slide down the door, his bottom hitting the floor as he sits. “I’ll stay out here. I don’t like fighting with you, Watson. We’re supposed to be besties, remember?”

“I’m — I’m taking a bath, Jay. We can talk later,” I manage, trying to sound normal, but my breathing is far too laboured. I shouldn’t be touching myself with him right behind the door, but I can’t seem to help it. Reaching up, I mould my breast in my hand and pinch my nipple, sending tremors all throughout my body.

I realise that Jay’s been quiet for far too long. I didn’t make any noises, did I? No, I know I didn’t. I’m not that reckless.

“How’s your bath going?” he asks. His voice sounds different now, lower.

“I said we’ll talk later. Can you go?” I croak, unable to help sliding my fingers inside myself, my walls clenching tight around them.

There’s a smile in his voice when he goes on, “What are you doing in there, baby?”

“Nothing,” I answer, a little too quickly.