“You made eggs for her!” Jacob cried, throwing his hands in the air.
Jude pulled two pieces of bread from the toaster and began to butter them. He raised a brow at Jacob. “She’s my girlfriend. You’re just a pain of my ass. I choose not to feed my problems. I find if I do that they just keep coming back for more instead of going off to die like they should.”
“Asshole,” Jacob grumbled, sliding off the stool. Instead of making eggs, he grabbed a bowl, dumped half a box of cereal in it and grabbed a gallon of milk. “I hope your PMS ends soon,” he called over his shoulder to Jude as he left the room.
Jude slid a plate of food in front of me and then sat down a glass of orange juice. “Having roommates sucks.”
“Seems like it,” I agreed, picking up my fork and taking a bite. “Mmm,” I hummed, “this is so good. I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”
Jude sat down beside me and leaned over to kiss my cheek. “Gotta keep your strength up, because I’m not done with you.” His tone held the promise of delightful things to come. My body shook with excitement at the thought of all the things he could do to me.
“Your grandpa taught you to cook,” I said as a statement, not a question.
“Pap and Grams,” he shrugged. “They said it was important that I not starve to death. Plus, Grams was adamant that she wasn’t going to feed me every time I was hungry…which was all the time when I was a teenager.” He shoveled a heaping forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Turns out, I kind of like it.”
I shook my head, a small smile lifting my lips. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“No, I’m Superman. When I’m not saving the world I make the best damn eggs you’re ever going to eat. Now eat up woman, we have an exciting day ahead of us and,” his voice lowered and he whispered in my ear, “I will have you again today and it’s going to be even better than the other times.”
I should’ve pushed him away and told him he was being presumptuous, but I couldn’t. Instead I leaned closer to him, swaying slightly. The affect he had on me was beyond unfair.
He turned back to his food, smirking. Arrogant jerk. He got me all worked up and left me hanging.
I finished my breakfast, feeling stuffed.
“I guess I better take you home,” Jude said reluctantly as he gathered up our empty plates to wash them.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I’d like to at least change my clothes before we have a ‘real’ date,” I smiled. I was insanely curious to know what he had up his sleeve but I knew better than to ask.
“You know,” he grinned, turning away from the sink and crossing his arms over his chest, “we could make our date an all day thing…well, maybe the day part wouldn’t be part of the actual date,” he rambled. Frowning, he said, “I’m not making sense. Let me start over.” He took a breath. “What would you say to visiting Pap before our date?”
“I’d say there’s no other way I’d rather spend my day,” I grinned, feeling excited.
“How did I get so lucky with you?” He asked.
I laughed. “Lucky? I’m the girl that kicked you in the balls, threw a McFlurry at your head, and slapped you when you kissed me. Nothing about that sounds like you should be lucky to have me.”
His eyes darkened and he sobered. “You shouldn’t underestimate yourself so much, Tate.” Leaning forward he placed his hands on the counter and stared into my eyes. “You make me better.”
I nodded, losing my voice. Clearing my throat, I finally said, “You make me better too.”
He grinned slowly, his brown eyes sparkling with happiness. “Now that we have that established, we should go. But first, I should change. This is hardly appropriate date attire.” He plucked at his plain gray t-shirt and pointed to his black sweatpants. I thought he looked lickable but I wasn’t saying that out loud. I knew he’d only use the information to torture me endlessly later on.
“I’ll wait down here,” I smiled.
“Or,” he drew out the word, “you could come upstairs with me.” He grabbed my hand, trying to pull me off the stool. “Please,” he begged.
“Nice try,” I laughed. “But I know what you have in mind and I need a break.”
He sighed and put a hand to his heart. “You wound me woman.” Lowering his voice, he whispered in my ear, “Do you need me to kiss it and make it better? You know I will.”
My cheeks flamed. “I’m good.”
“You know you liked it,” his voice was a throaty growl. “Admit it.”
He brushed his lips against my jaw and I’m pretty sure I would’ve told him anything he wanted just to keep feeling his lips against my skin. “I liked it,” I gasped.
“I knew it,” he pulled away, grinning. My cheeks stung slightly where his stubble had scratched it.