He shrugged. So much for playing it cool. “I like to cook.”
“You know,” she touched her cheek and squinted her eyes as she thought, “I don’t think a man has ever cooked for me before.”
When she started pulling out plates and cutlery, he tucked his hands into his pockets and focused on the stray wisp of her hair that had pulled free of her topknot to wave about her cheek unencumbered.
He wanted to cook for her, he realized. Sure, the offer came with a list of other things that he’d like to do for her, to her, but it was still genuine.
“Did you get a lot of work in today?” he asked, moving over to where her canvases were propped against the wall. The Lake Tahoe scene looked done now, and he took a minute to study the painting. It was gorgeous and the house that she’d added completed the picture on a fairy-tale level.
“I finished it.” She noticed where he had been looking. “But I want to have it complimentarily framed.”
“As a gift to the client?”
“In a manner of speaking…” She flashed him a grin, her face bright with humor. “So many good paintings are ruined by poor frames. For a picture of that size, the frame is going to contribute hugely to the final aesthetic, and I kinda want creative freedom over it. At least until it’s delivered. Once it’s there and I can’t see it, they can do what they want with it.”
“I think that’s fair.”
She brought over the two plates to the sofa and Jacob walked to the counter to grab the wine. They sat down together, on opposite sides, and Lola hit play on the show.
He tried to ignore the way she tucked her legs up and under her and balanced the plate on her sweatpant-clad thighs as she nibbled away at her food, her eyes focused on the screen. But he had the strangest urge to move closer to her, just enough so that their legs bumped together. It was like he needed the contact. Scowling at himself, he stared down at his plate, content to make the simple meal the most scrutinized one he’d ever had.
She could hear his mind working overtime from where she sat only two feet away from him, their bodies separated by physical space even though the gap between them seemed to be magnetically charged. He was frowning, his brow knitting over green eyes that were squinting down at his plate. Even though the scowl made him looked damned cute, she wondered if everything was okay, if he’d found anything else out regarding the case. He had told her that he wasn’t going to talk about it with her unless he needed to ask her questions because he didn’t want to stress her out, which, though she wasn’t entirely happy about it, she considered fair, given that there was still a chance she wasn’t involved.
But she was also getting tired of not sleeping as she lay awake listening to him toss and turn and actively refrained from climbing into his bed. She had never been a heavy sleeper, but over the last few days it had reached a whole new level, and, coupled with his proximity, she’d found herself more sexually frustrated than she’d even been.
Not that she’d ever been sexually frustrated before. Usually, when she needed relief, she’d find a willing partner or just do it herself with the vibrator that Sarah had bought her years ago. But she couldn’t do either of those things now that Jacob was involved. One, because he was the only man she wanted to sleep with and, two, because he would definitely be able to hear her vibrator from where he slept on her apartment floor. It was bad. Situation critical.
From the get-go, on that very first night, she had been feeling itchy under her skin and she knew that the only thing that had changed was the fact that a six-foot-something, muscled police lieutenant with emerald eyes now slept only a few feet away from her.
It had been so bad that Lola had insisted they watch a Netflix show just so she could distract herself—a Netflix show she had already watched. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed it the first time because she had. Immensely. But The Last Kingdom was a huge emotional investment for her and one that she wouldn’t necessarily have embarked on again if she hadn’t needed a very good distraction.
She was so desperate that a part of her wanted to ask about the case, wanted to let him walk her through it, but the other part of her was petrified that she’d become immobilized with fear if she knew all the details. She’d been told that she’d have to look at the victims’ photographs in a day or two, as soon as they obtained pictures that weren’t, well, from the coroner. Apparently, it was protocol to interview victims and witnesses only when necessary and now, after nearly a full week embroiled in a real case, she understood why. It was exhausting having to rehash everything that she’d felt and thought while the man had been in her apartment.
It was terrifying. Not as terrifying as the feeling of that man’s hands around your neck and knowing that you’re going to die. She clenched her jaw shut and ignored the scenes her imagination was playing on repeat. Those poor girls.
“Are you okay?”
Jacob’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts and, turning to him, she said, “I’m fine. I just…” she put her plate down so that she could wave her hands in the air, “I just got sidetracked with thoughts of this whole debacle.”
“Lola…”
“I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it does. Those girls…God, Jake, they were someone’s babies once, you know?”
She felt her heart squeeze tight with grief for strangers that she knew had suffered and, if she were honest, with anxiety for her own situation. She wrapped her arms around her knees to try and stave off the nausea that rose into her stomach.
Jacob reached out one big hand and placed his palm on her back, rubbing small circles there as if he were comforting a child. The feeling of his hand on her had the opposite effect than she knew he’d intended, and instead of feeling calmed, she felt like leaning into him, like feeling his arms wrap around her, his hands move over her, over all of her.
Because she needed to, she inched closer on the sofa so that their legs were only an inch apart. When he stiffened slightly, she chuckled. “I’m not going to jump you, I promise. I just need…this.”
He took a deep breath and with a resigned shake of his head, pulled her the rest of the way to him until her back was nestled against his right side and part of his chest. Lola heard herself sigh, felt some of the tension seep out of her as he gently rubbed her arms. He was so…solid. So dependable.
Slowly, she relaxed against him, only vaguely aware of what Uhtred was doing on the screen of her laptop even though her eyes were still glued to it. She felt safe, she realized, comfortable even, as she leaned against him. When he shifted so that his arm extended over the back of the sofa and she slipped closer to him, her heart gave a single, solid thump.
She stilled for a moment and then lay her head on his arm as she turned back to watch the show. It was just emotional support, she rationalized. Just a little bit of physical contact to comfort them both. Unreproachable physical contact. Yeah. Sure.
As he slowly relaxed beside her, settled more deeply into the sofa, she extended her legs out on the couch. She could deal with the simmering lust that touching him stirred if it meant that she could just feel the comfort of being wrapped up next to him. It was worth it. Besides, what harm could it really do?