Proposition (17 page)

During the dinner, Jake made sure that he engaged Amy’s attention, and not her neighbor. Conveniently, he sat beside her so, while eating and talking with others, he could touch her discreetly under the table.

More than once she tried to slap his hand from wandering up her leg. He observed how flustered she became until the second course came. No wonder, he smirked. To his delight, he discovered she wore some fancy stockings for the occasion, and not the pantyhose he hated that she preferred for everyday. Perhaps it was the scotch he’d had earlier on an empty stomach, or the presence of Beth’s brother, on her other side, but suddenly he felt both lightheaded and possessive. His hand crept further under the hem of her dress, stroking the soft, warm, flesh above the edge of the stocking. He even tried inserting his fingers between her thighs, but she clasped them together tightly, making it impossible.

Her small delicate fingers, wrapped surprisingly strongly around his wrist, pushing his hand decidedly away from under her skirt. Next moment he felt the stiletto of her shoe dig purposely into his foot. He bit his lip to stop himself from protesting aloud, and reluctantly, but resignedly removed his hand from her thigh.

The dinner ended. Jake went with the other men to the library, leaving Amy in the company of Beth Harding and the other wives of his business associates. Despite the fact that he’d promised Amy not too drink more, he had another glass of scotch, accompanied with a cigar. He could hardly refuse when other men drank and smoked. He was pretty sure that the others would have immediately guessed why he refused to drink. He didn’t want to hear the comments that his wife had already wrapped him around her little finger. It didn’t matter that it was the truth.

He was more than happy when the evening came to end. He didn’t feel his best for sure by the time Amy bid goodnight to their hosts, and walked him to the car.

She was silent on their way home, while he slumbered against the window frame. The first words she spoke to him were when she pulled his car into the parking lot under her building.

“Are you able to get upstairs by yourself or should I ask the porter to drag you there?” she asked coldly.

That remark sobered him. “I’m not drunk.”

“Right,” she snorted.

She got out of the car and shut the door on her side. He followed her to the elevator, his moves slightly less energetic than hers.

She was silent the entire way to her condo. When they got off on the top floor, she marched to her condo not waiting for him. She opened the door and walked in.

He walked in after her, feeling his head pounding more and more with every passing second. He removed his coat, leaving it dismissively on the chair in the hallway. On his way to the kitchen to drink some water, he removed the rest of his attire, his tie, evening jacket, and lastly his slacks. He thought that the water might help him to feel more human but it didn’t work a miracle. He decided that a good night’s sleep was the best possible cure for his condition, with his lovely wife in his arms, of course. It was good that tomorrow was Saturday and he could sleep in.

He was surprised when he turned the doorknob, and the door didn’t open. Amy had locked the door.

“Amy?” He tapped gently at the door. “Amy, are you all right in there?” He knocked on the door this time. “Sweetheart, let me in,” he murmured, his forehead supported against the smooth surface.

Unexpectedly the door opened, making him temporarily lose his balance.

Amy was standing in front of him already dressed in her cute pink pajamas he liked so much. She didn’t look pleased.

“I don’t sleep with drunks,” she snapped, throwing some stuff into his arms.

The next moment the door snapped closed in front of him, leaving him alone in the semi-dark hall, just with a small pillow and a blanket.

He stood like that for a few moments, hoping for her to change her mind. But when he saw beneath the door when she turned off the bedroom light, he sighed and walked slowly back to the living room.

The couch was too small for him, his feet always sticking out the other end. But, other than sleeping on the floor, this was his only option. With a resigned sigh, he curled up on one couch, first removing Amy’s prized Paris pillow. He wrapped the blanket around himself and snuggled into the pillow she’d thrown at him, inhaling her faint scent on it.

Chapter Sixteen

Amy was just opening the fridge to take out the potato salad, when she felt Jake’s arms wrapping around her from behind. He walked up to her so quietly that she didn’t even notice. Tilting her head to the side, to allow him access to her neck, she closed the fridge and put the bowl with salad on the counter. It was nearly seven o’clock and he’d returned home some fifteen minutes ago.

“I thought you were tired,” she said, doing her best to ignore his hand going under her top, while she tried to remove the cover from the bowl.

“Tired but not that much...” he murmured. One of his hands pressing her to him, lifting her up his body, the other one reached for her breast. “I feel invigorated after the shower.”

Amy sighed, removed the lid over the bowl with the potato salad, and pushed it aside. Obviously, he wasn’t as hungry as she thought he was before. At least as far as food was concerned, she noted dryly. Good God, the man had stamina.

She turned into his arms, and took his face into her palms to kiss him. He lifted her t-shirt up to her collarbone, cupped her breasts, and kneaded them gently, his thumbs grazing her nipples.

She’d forgiven him a long time ago for getting drunk, almost ruining their first serious social occasion. To tell the truth she’d forgiven him the very next morning when she’d seen him sleeping awkwardly on the too small couch, his limbs twisted in a strange way to accommodate his size. Naturally, she’d pretended to be offended for a day or so, and kept her distance from him, before she’d allowed him to apologize to her, and granted him her forgiveness, after the right amount of groveling on his part. It was hard to stay angry with him though. He seemed to be so miserable when she refused to talk to him and let him touch her. She couldn’t bear him like that for long, her heart tugging in her chest at his hurt puppy like eyes following her everywhere.

As she gazed down at his mouth closing around the tip of her breast, she could only appreciate how good it felt when he sucked on her like that. All the tension after a long day swept away from her. When she thought about the number of times they’d had sex in the last several days, it seemed to her almost physically impossible. She read somewhere that men over thirty were past their sexual peak, but her Jake was certainly an exception to that rule.

She closed her eyes and started counting. They did it this morning just after waking up. She had barely woken, lying on her tummy, when he was already inside her, pushing her down into the mattress. He kissed the back of her neck, grunted over her, and put her old bed into a rocking motion. There was also one time in the middle of the night, and another before going to bed on the couch when they were supposed to watch a movie on DVD. They’d made love three times in the last twenty four hours, and clearly he was ready for the fourth time.

Perhaps his appetite would pass in time, she thought, at the same time helping him to remove her pants, pulling them down together with her panties.

“Up you go,” he murmured affectionately, then lifted her onto the counter and parted her legs.

His large hands began stroking her thighs, his mouth kissed diligently the path from the undersides of her breasts to her belly button. In no time, he was in front of her on his knees, eating her gently.

She still felt a little uncomfortable with that form of foreplay, not being able to relax enough to have an orgasm. Though it helped her to warm up, and it felt nice once she let herself relax. She’d even discreetly checked out a certain section in the library to educate herself more on the subject. She’d been relieved to learn that she shouldn’t worry that she wasn’t able to come through oral sex. She’d read that it often took a long time for some women, like ten to fifteen minutes to have an orgasm in this way. One of the books also suggested that once she let herself loosen up, and believed that her partner enjoyed doing it to her, she would probably be able to climax. But Amy still felt rather awkward about Jake touching her with his lips and tasting her. She’d never before considered herself prudish, but somehow she couldn’t overcome this. Clearly, he loved to see that part of her. It seemed to excite him to have a good look at her pussy every time they made love.

As soon as she felt hot and wet, he moved her carefully onto the kitchen island, which was the perfect height for him to make love to her as he stood. With trembling hands he opened his trousers hastily. Amy reached out and took him into her hand, and began stroking, but he as usual pushed her hand away after a few moments and began entering her a bit impatiently.

She pressed her face into his shoulder, so he didn’t see her expression, as she really couldn’t help wincing a bit when he slid inside her. She was simply sore, her body unused to such frequent lovemaking.

He started pumping into her, groaning hoarsely from time to time, their bodies making a suckling sound. Amy kept her arms tight around him, pushing at his bottom encouragingly. It didn’t hurt now, not really, but she didn’t feel the usual sweet pressure simmering between her legs. She dutifully waited for him to finish. And she didn’t mind, it always felt so wonderful, made her heart melt when he seemed to be so lost in her. It didn’t take him long, before he finally thrust into her with a low sexy growl. Amy presumed he couldn’t last really long in the standing position, at least not as long as when they were together in bed.

As he slipped out of her, he caught the unguarded expression of discomfort painted on her face.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked with a tangible concern in his voice.

“Not really.” She met his worried eyes reluctantly. “I’m a bit sore,” she admitted. “We’ve made love so many times in the last few days and... or perhaps it’s just because I’m still new to this.”

“You should’ve told me,” he said with accusation.

“You wanted to...” she started, but he hushed her.

“Forgive me.” He hugged her. “I’m such a selfish bastard. I’m sorry,” he murmured into her temple.

“It’s fine,” she said sincerely. “It really is ok,” she stressed when he still looked unconvinced.

His hand moved to stroke the wisp of hair off her face. “You think it’s good for me when I know I could hurt you? And why haven’t you told me earlier that sex is painful for you?”

“Because it isn’t. I’m fine. I’m just a bit sore.” She rubbed his arms reassuringly. “Stop beating yourself up about it. I think that in a few days all will be well.”

He sighed worriedly, kissed her forehead and turning away from her he reached for the paper towels. He folded a few together and wet them under the running tap. Opening her legs gently wider, he began wiping her clean from their combined juices.

“Oh, God, Amy,” he whispered, suddenly pale, staring at the stained towel. Her gaze followed his and she instantly went white, too. They didn’t use protection.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he groaned, lifting his hand to his face. “I didn’t plan it, it came out spontaneously.”

Amy bit her lower lip and eased herself off the island. “It couldn’t be at a worse time,” she whined. “I had my period barely two weeks ago.”

He frowned. “Which means?”

Her eyes widened in panic. “Which means that it’s probably the best time for me to get pregnant.”

“Oh,” he said as he bent to collect her panties from the floor.

“Oh,” she repeated disbelievingly, taking her panties from him and pulling them back in place. “That’s all you have to say?” She studied him suspiciously for a moment. “You’re not worried at all,” she accused him. “You would have nothing against it, if I really got pregnant.” She stared at him and shouted, when he didn’t reply, “Admit it!”

“Look, Amy...” He cradled her tense face into his hands and stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs. “I’m not a good actor so I won’t pretend that I’m not happy about such a possibility. To tell the truth I’m overjoyed, that there may be a baby in nine months.” He grinned at her.

“Well, I’m not,” she said shortly, pushed away from him and started to right her clothes.

There was a very long silence.

“I see,” he said, his voice so cold unpleasant shivers ran down her spine.

“I should have started on the pill,” she murmured to herself.

“I’m not going to allow you to do anything to prevent this,” he said harshly out of the blue.

“What?” she stared at him, uncomprehending.

“You heard me,” he said, his face tight and tense. “If there’s going to be a baby you’re going to carry it to term.” He took her arm not so gently. “I won’t let you kill my son or daughter. And don’t try anything like the morning-after pill or some other pharmacological shit to prevent it. Do you hear me?”

Amy stared at him, her mouth half open, as if still not understanding what he was saying to her. “You think that I would be able to do something to hurt my own baby,” she whispered disbelievingly. “You have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do with my body. What kind of person do you think I am?” she blurted. “For your information if it ever turned out that I’m pregnant I would always want the baby to be born, no matter who the father is.” Her eyes brimmed with tears as she tried, unsuccessfully, to choke them back, “How could you even think that? I only meant that it’s not a good time to have a baby, because we still know each other so little, and everything is so fresh between us and...” the uncontrolled sob escaped her and she quickly ran out of the kitchen.

Jake closed his eyes for a moment when she left, and cursed silently. He had the propensity to put his feet into his mouth. He decided it would be for the best to leave her alone for some time. Ten minutes later, he knocked softly at the bedroom door.

“Amy?” He opened the door slightly when she didn’t answer. He found her curled on the bed in a tight ball.

“Go away,” the small voice came from under the covers.

“I’m sorry.” He walked to bed.

“I don’t want to talk with you now,” she said calmly, yet her voice suggesting she was on the verge of breaking into tears again.

Still he lay down next to her, pulling her into his arms. She resisted shortly, but soon capitulated, allowing him to cradle her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said as he kissed her hair.

“How could you think I could ever terminate a pregnancy?” she asked with deep hurt in her voice. “Or do anything else to harm our baby? Don’t you know me?” the new tears came into her eyes. “Don’t you know me at all?” she sniffed. “It was the worst thing someone has ever accused me of.”

It was a moment before Jake started speaking. “This situation reminded me of something which happened to me many years ago, when I was in my early twenties. I haven’t spoken about it to anyone since then.”

She looked up at him. “What happened?”

“It was before I started working for your father and met you.” He stroked her hair. “I had a steady girlfriend then. We’d been together for a few months. Her dream was to leave this town and go to California to become an actress. But she got pregnant and the child was mine.” He swallowed, his arms contracted around her. “I said to her we should get married, but she laughed me off and disappeared for a few days. I wasn’t worried, because I thought she just needed a few days to think through everything, but I was wrong. She came back a week later by bus. It turned out she sold her car, and used the money from it to pay for the abortion in another town.”

Amy took a sharp intake of breath. “Jake...”

“I thought I got over with this,” he said, not looking at her. “But when you mentioned that you were not happy about the possibility of getting pregnant and that you should have started on the pill, it all returned to me.”

“Oh, Jake...” She sat up. “I’m sorry, that was so thoughtless and cruel of me.”

He gave her a sad smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes and shrugged. “You couldn’t know.”

“What happened with her?” she asked quietly after a moment, when she settled back into his arms.

“She got what she wanted. She’s a well known actress nowadays.” he said, meeting Amy’s curious eyes. “Have you heard about that newest adaptation of Stephen King’s latest bestseller? She plays the main part.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “You mean, Susan Spencer?” At his nod, she added, “Really? She’s a big star.”

“Yes, she is. And my child is dead.” He sounded terribly bitter.

Amy wanted to say she was sorry, but it felt so inadequate. So she only wrapped her arms around him, hoping to bring him comfort.

“For years I couldn’t understand why she did it,” he murmured quietly after a moment, his chin supported on top of her head. “She didn’t want a child, fine. But she could have given birth and later left the baby to me, not just get rid of it, like some undesirable object. Probably she was too afraid to lose her looks, you know having stretch marks after a baby or something like that.”

Amy remembered how remarkably beautiful the actress was. Tall and slender, looking stunning in a designer gown she wore on the red carpet. No wonder Jake had dated her.

“When she left I really couldn’t pull myself together, you know,” he continued. “I started drinking...they kicked me out of the college. It was your father who took care of me then. He gave me a job and helped me to stay on the surface.”

“I didn’t know that,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I owe your father a lot.” Jake cupped her face, making her look at him. “Amy, I think you need to know the truth,” he said seriously.