Page 24 of Secret Triplets, Second Chances

JAKE

T he second my lips touch Lara’s, the world goes utterly, blissfully blank.

I don’t think about the team, about this town, about Lawrence at the bar or my dad’s journals at home.

The only thing on my mind is the feeling of her lips against mine. The taste of her, lost to me for the past five years, returns suddenly and completely like the first bite of your favorite ice cream on a hot day.

“Jake,” she whispers, and I pull back, breathing hard, looking her over. Looking for any sign that she might not want this, that I might be asking for too much.

I really, really fucking hope not.

But she hooks her fingers through my belt loops, tugging me in her direction, toward her bed.

A full-body shudder rolls through me at the realization that this is happening.

“Lara,” I breathe when she strips her shirt off, throwing it across the room. I lose mine too, and we take a second to marvel at the ways we’ve changed.

Her body is different — her stomach softer, and her hips more pronounced. As a teenager, she was a skinny thing, bones and sharp angles, but now she’s all curves, all hills and valleys. Her breasts nearly spill over her bra cups, and it actually makes my mouth water.

When she swallows, her eyes wandering up my body and catching my gaze, I realize she’s nervous.

“I know I don’t look the same?—”

“Yeah,” I laugh, shaking my head and taking her into my arms, lowering her down onto the bed. “You look better, Lara. You look like something I could eat.”

The idea is inspiring, so I push her down onto the bed, slide her panties down her legs, and throw them so they join her shirt somewhere in the void.

“Oh,” she says, like the thought had never occurred to her, and I wonder if anyone else has touched her like this.

The thought of it makes a growl catch low in my throat, some sort of animalistic, possessive pressure making me grip her hips, draw my tongue up and through her until she claps her hand over her mouth, eyes shutting, back arching into the mattress.

I reach up, catch her elbow, and draw her hand down to mine.

“I want to hear you say my name,” I rasp before returning to her, making slow circles with my tongue, tightening the circles until her hips buck against me, pleading for more.

And she says my name, the word coming out in two syllables, gasping with pleasure. If anyone else has touched her like this in the past five years, I want to make sure I’m the best of them.

When I slide two fingers inside her, she clenches around me, crying out and coming, and I taste her on my tongue.

She’s still breathing hard when I climb up over her, fingers trailing over every part of her body. I want to map her, get to know this new body. Discover all the ways she’s changed in the past five years.

“Jake,” she breathes, eyes fluttering open to find mine.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, eyes dropping to her mouth, head already dipping with the urge.

“Yes.”

And so I do, moaning at the way she opens her mouth for me, at how she tangles her fingers in my hair, at how her hips rise up to meet mine even though she just came apart on my tongue.

“Can I?—”

“Here.” Lara rolls over, digging in her nightstand and producing a condom, her hands shaking as she tries to open it. When her eyes catch mine, she giggles. “A gift from Zachery — an entire pack of condoms. I haven’t used any of them.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I tried,” she says, swallowing, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I tried to move on from you. But I couldn’t.”

I unclip her bra, lower my mouth to her nipples, and suck and bite on them until they’re taut and she’s writhing beneath me, her legs wrapped around my waist, begging.

My cock is hard against her, only the fabric of my boxers keeping us apart. When she tugs on the waistband, I lift up and let her draw them down, sucking in a breath against the soft scrape of her fingers over my hips and thighs.

“Are you sure, Lara?”

She nods, and when I place myself at her entrance, she lets out a noise that makes me feral. I have to bite my tongue to keep from going too hard or too fast, and when I’m fully inside her, I pause, arms shaking with the effort.

Her hands slide up and over my shoulders, her soft, warm skin against mine, and when she loops her arms around my neck, I remember what she said to me the first time we did this.

I love you, I love you, I love you .

“You must be Jake!”

The moment I see Lara’s father standing there with his hand outstretched to me, I realize it’s real.

Last weekend, lying in her bed, we’d talked and touched through the night. She asked if I’d like to meet the triplets. We agreed that it might be best to introduce myself first as her friend.

Now, here I am, having just climbed out of my truck in the Novaks’ driveway. It’s lined on either side by little American flags, and the smell of grilling meat floats in the air, the soft haze of gray smoke hovering above the fence.

I clasp my hand in Mr. Novak’s and smile right back at him.

“That’s me,” I say, wondering how much Lara has told her parents about who I am and why I’m here.

“Gideon, thanks for coming.”

“It’s nice to meet you, and thanks for inviting me today.”

“Any friend of Lara’s is a friend of ours. Besides, my buddy is a huge Wild fan and he’s gonna be happy to talk shit with you all night.”

I laugh, though the thought of talking about work right now makes my stomach sour. Her dad leads me around the side of the house, through a gate, and into a backyard that’s even more red, white and blue than the front of the house.

On the drive over, I was making myself sick with worry about the first time I’d meet the kids. About what they might think of me and whether or not I’d be cut out for fatherhood.

But the moment comes without fanfare.

The three of them are in swimsuits, playing on a large inflatable slide.

Water sprays down and sloshes over the sides.

One of them — Chrys — stands at the bottom, wearing a little pink swimsuit with flowers on it.

At the top of the slide are Daffy and Aster, both squealing with laughter about who’s going to go first.

“Jake.”

When I turn, Lara is smiling at me, wearing a blue and white sundress that flutters in the breeze. There’s a drink in her hand, extending out to me, and I smile, taking it.

“Thanks, this is a lot of fun.”

“My mom likes to put things together like this. A lot of her friends from the city are here.”

“No pressure,” I joke, glancing around and wondering how many of the people around me are famous.

We laugh, then after a beat passes, she clears her throat and glances over at the triplets, who are now all at the bottom of the slide.

“Do you want to meet them?”

I keep my gaze on them as I nod, and Lara brushes the tips of her fingertips over my elbow, gesturing for me to follow her.

“Kiddos,” she says, smiling and coming to a stop. Chrys turns to her immediately, but Daffy and Aster take a second longer to turn and look, their eyes skipping inquisitively from their mother to me. “This is my friend, Jake. I wanted you to meet him.”

“Hi, Jake,” Chrys says, her little hands clasped behind her as she looks up at me, and I see that she has the exact same blue eyes as Lara. In fact, if I got a good look at baby pictures of Lara, I guess they’d look a lot like Chrys right now. “We’re playing on the slide.”

“It looks like a lot of fun,” I say, nodding over at it.

“I went down backward!” Aster says, jumping up and waving his hand at me like I might not notice him if he doesn’t. I resist the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair, not sure if I should touch the kids.

“That’s so cool,” I start, but Daffy shakes her head, clears her throat, and puts her hands around her mouth to tell me a secret.

Lowering my ear to her, I listen as she whispers, “I did a spin .”

Her breath is hot against my ear, and she smells like sunscreen and hose water. I pull away from her and make big eyes, hoping that shows how impressed I am.

“Daffy, are you telling secrets?” Lara asks, raising an eyebrow at her, which makes Daffy let out an evil cackle and sprint away, her feet splashing in the grass as she runs.

I’m still talking to the triplets when Lara’s mom appears, introduces herself, and announces to everyone that it’s time to eat. I sit at a table with Lara and the kids, watching how she juggles them and how the food on her plate is cold before she ever gets to it.

“Mommy!” Daffy says, slapping a flattened juice box on the table. “Can I have more drink, please?”

Lara starts to rise, but I raise a hand, shaking my head at her. “I got it.”

It’s a short trip to the cooler, and when I get back with the juice box, Daffy smiles and claps her hands, and the other two ask for one as well.

My second time through, Gideon laughs and raises his beer, asking for a refill himself. I end up fetching wine for Lara’s mom, Kellie, and making the rounds with juice boxes for the other kids.

By the time I make it back to the table with Lara and the triplets, she’s managed to get through half of her plate.

“You’re a great waiter,” Chrys says.

Daffy says, “Our mom is a nurse. Are you a waiter?”

I can tell some of the other adults are listening in on this conversation. Maybe trying to figure out where they know me from. If Abbie were here, she might tell me to network, that it might help with my image.

But I don’t want to talk to anyone outside our little table.

Meeting Lara’s eyes, I smile and say, “Yeah, something like that.”