She nuzzled in his neck and whispered in his ear, "I found your notebook. It was lovely."
He could only stare at the ceiling, for a beat or two, and then roll away from her and vault off the bed, his hand giving her bottom a sharp smack as he did so. She was unfazed. He stretched a bit. His lower back was a bit stiff, and his ribs hadn't healed quite right.
Jake walked to the mirror, and gave his chin a bit of a rub. He needed a shave. How the hell could a man be as stupid at 34 as he had been at 24?
