There were a few hardy bushes and smallish cacti and aloes in front of the house. I wouldn’t have described the place as gorgeously landscaped, but it looked tidy—even kind of cute in its way. It fit well into the neighborhood, which was similarly presentable. Nothing was lush or decked out, just solid and safe. It looked nice. And I hadn’t had nice in what felt like a long, long time.
Jack was waiting patiently for me to gather Peter and his stuff when I asked him to pop the trunk and grab the Moses basket I had found at a thrift store, which he did, then let us all in through the front door. He hadn’t lied—there wasn’t a ton of space, but it was well-laid out, and the living area was filled with a comfortable-looking leather sofa and armchairs. It had the requisite bachelor pad huge flat-screen, assorted surround sound speakers, DVR, and two handfuls of remote controls that would surely take me a good half-hour to figure out.
The room, like the small front hallway and the decently-sized kitchen, was littered with stuff: fast-food detritus, pizza boxes, beer cans and bottles, hard liquor bottles, glassware, socks, T-shirts, and jeans... It was like all of his belongings had been released into the rooms by some insidious interior tornado.
It was the stereotypical bachelor pad complete with nasty odor. I worked hard not to roll my eyes.
He led us back into a short hallway off the living room, which featured four doors. We went to the room farthest to the right. It turned out to be the aforementioned extra bedroom with an under-inflated air mattress, air pump, stackable milk crates with assorted tools and papers stuffed in, random barbells and weights, and a contraption that looked like a vertical half-bench with ankle stabilizers a few feet below.
I eyed it suspiciously. Jack caught my look and narrowed his eyes and said, “What?”
I asked. “That isn’t…?”
Now he was full-on smirking. “What do you think that is? Do you think that’s my crazy sex machine?” He puffed himself up and came in close, angling behind me, and lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Does that idea turn you on, Ellie?” He drifted the back of his fingers along the side of my left breast, light as a feather.
I suddenly had trouble breathing, and I had no idea how to respond. Was he serious? Because, yes, that turned me on! But there was no way in hell I’d tell him that. What was happening?
My eyes must have been like saucers in my tomato-colored face. I’m sure it was a fabulous look. But I was glued to the spot; I was totally turned on by his nearness, and the potential of sex that filled the air around us. Still, I needed to answer him, and I wouldn’t allow my body’s response to take over for my brain. “How am I supposed to know what you’re into, Jack? I just met you! So, you’re saying that’s…” I let my sentence hang, allowing him to take this where it would go.
He eyed me speculatively. “No, it’s not, but it has potential, doesn’t it?”
I blushed again, hard. He smirked. Damn the man.
He stepped away. “It’s actually a gravity inversion table. Feels awesome. You should try it. You’ll love it.”
Whew. Well, that sounded a whole lot better than a sex-slave table, or whatever those things are called.
Although, being honest with myself, the idea of any kind of sex with Jack had me getting hot and wet. I’d never tried much kink before, but if that was what he was into, I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t be into trying it with him. Oh lord, I had no control of my thoughts—or my body—around him.
But that was not what I was here for. Jack was being more than kind by sharing his own home and giving me and Petey a place to stay, a place to call our home, for however long we would be here. Jack—difficult as he was—was manna sent from heaven, and I was grateful to my bones.
I was also baby-mama to his brother’s son, and if that didn’t murkify the waters, I didn’t know what else could. Despite the fact that what Keith and I had shared was in no way a romance for the ages. It was a one-off, a night of comfort and convenience. Of letting off steam. Of protection, gratitude, and solidarity. And ultimately, of friendship.
So sex with Jack had to be off the table. That included both this literal inversion table, and the figurative one.
Jack was a no-go zone, sad as that might be. My hormones since getting pregnant were still at ragingly high levels, and I’d been celibate for months and months. So being around Jack was like notching my horn-o-meter up to one thousand percent.