Epilogue: The Battle of Wills
"We have five chocolate rugelach, a can of tuna fish, and 437 packets of soy sauce from every sushi restaurant on the Upper West Side."
Cora returned from her inventory of the kitchen and crawled back into bed, cursing herself for her failure to go grocery shopping before the storm struck. She'd been too distracted by the reunion show's fallout, too mortified at the thought of being recognized by her fellow shoppers to fill her basket with more than a few pastries.
Now, she brought her precious supply of chocolate rugelach back with her to bed and placed it on the pillow next to Jamie. He lay sprawled on his stomach with his hair in disarray and his long limbs contoured beneath the sheets. Three days had passed since he'd convinced her to give their relationship a chance. Seventy-two straight hours, stranded in his company by the flood waters outside, and she hadn't grown weary of him yet. On the contrary, the sight of Jamie in her bed made Cora's breath catch inside her chest.
He stretched and sat up, exposing his bare chest and abs, with the covers dangling precariously across his lap. Cora's cheeks flooded with heat as she pretended not to notice that way that sheet highlighted his V lines.
"What's a rugelach?" Jamie picked up the pastry bag and peered inside. "Is that like a babka?"
"No, but I'm impressed you've heard of babka." She patted his thigh through the covers.
"I've seen Seinfeld." His voice rose an octave as he put on a nasal American accent, gesticulating wildly with his index finger. "Cinnamon takes a back seat to no babka, Elaine! The lesser babka? I think not!"
Cora bit her lip. Off he went, quoting things again. His impersonation of Jerry Seinfeld was spot on, but it only served to highlight the stark difference between Jamie and the last man who'd occupied her bed—the one who'd grown up eating all the Jewish comfort foods that Cora (and the characters of Seinfeld) took for granted. Steven could have been the owner of that voice, although Jamie didn't know it.
Cora pushed the thought away, banishing all ghosts of boyfriends past. She'd turned a new page, remember? Started on a new story. "Babka is a coffee cake," she explained, adopting the schoolteacher tone that never failed to get under Jamie's skin. "Rugelach are these flaky little layered pastries with filling inside. See?"
Jamie sniffed the contents of the pastry bag. Thankfully, he dropped the Seinfeld impression and resumed in his normal British accent. "Five of them? This is all the food we have?"
Cora ticked off their remaining inventory on her fingers. "This, tuna, soy sauce, a little bit of olive oil..."
"...And you," Jamie finished. He underlined his statement by tugging at the satin tie of Cora's robe. She allowed him to pull the bow loose and slide his hand inside, gathering her against him by her waist.
"I'm not edible."
"I beg to differ."
Cora squeaked in protest as he dipped his head to nibble at her neck, but she didn't push him away. So much for boundaries... For the past three days, holed up in her apartment, she and Jamie had lifted their previous restrictions against all uses of mouths and lips. Playing with fire, Cora knew. So far, he'd managed to tread the thin line between attraction and repulsion. But it was only a matter of time before that velvet tongue of his made a wrong move, and the ick set in.
He insisted they could navigate the treacherous waters together as long as they communicated. If he made a move she didn't like, she only had to speak up, and he would chart a different course. She could teach him all the tricks she used to calm her overly excitable nervous system—he would make a willing pupil—and he had a knack for exciting neurons she didn't know she had.
"In the name of science!" Jamie had teased her late last night, when he flipped her over onto her stomach and investigated her sensory response to oral stimulation at each point along her spine. And how could she say no to that? Cora was nothing if not scientific. She had no idea if it would produce a different outcome in the long run, but it certainly made for an interesting hypothesis. In all her failed relationships in the past, the one experiment she'd never tried was to truly be herself.
The robe slipped down her shoulders. Only the loud gurgle of her stomach made Cora pull away. "Breakfast," she told him sternly. She was starving. She'd woken up this morning, ensconced in Jamie's arms, with a hollow feeling in her stomach from the workout they'd given each other the night before. She removed Jamie's hand from her hip and shrugged her robe back on. "We each get two and a half rugelach."
"We each get two rugelach," Jamie corrected, fluffing up a pillow and placing it behind his lower back. "The last one goes to the winner."
"Of?"
He leaned close, bringing his nose within an inch of hers. "A battle of wills."
"Is that like a battle of wits?" Cora narrowed her eyes. "Trust me, you don't want to challenge me to one of those."
He didn't back down an inch though. If anything, he came closer, until the tips of their noses touched. "I wouldn't dare."
Cora stared into his bottomless brown eyes. Something in the way he stared back sent her heart rate skyrocketing. She recognized that look in his eyes. It reminded her of the first day they met. Their mini-date over cocktails. Something in the way he lowered his brow and raised his eyelids... How did he communicate so much with the slightest angle of his head? That look said, I want you. No, more than that. It said, I intend to have you, and I always get my way, so you may as well give in.
Seducing her. That's what he'd been doing on their mini-date. And despite all the time she'd spent with him, that look in his eyes still had the same effect. Heart racing, stumbling for words, stammering a bunch of gibberish... "Did you know I was MVP of my high school's trivia team? My friends all still meet up for trivia night once a month."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that meant to intimidate me?"
"I was also a finalist my year at the Intel Science Talent Search." Dammit, why was she saying all this? Her fingers fiddled aimlessly with the fabric of her robe. "And a National Merit Scholar, of course."
"Naturally." The corners of his mouth hooked upward. "Very impressive, Dr. Glass. However, none of that will help you in the least."
Cora forced herself to focus on the topic of the conversation. Breakfast. The last rugelach. She scrunched her mouth to the side. "OK smart guy. What are the rules of this battle? Who can recite the most TV quotes?"
"A battle of wills, not wits. And there are no rules but one." His tiny smile spread into a wicked grin. Before she could react, his arm snaked around her waist again. Her robe fell open as he rolled her flat on her back, then hovered above her on all fours. "Ready?"
She gaped up at him, breathless from the sudden change in position. "Wait! What's the one rule?"
"The loser," he answered in that low, hypnotic voice, "is the first person to say the word 'please'."
"Oh." So much for breakfast. First person to say please? She may as well concede right now. She didn't stand a chance. He didn't even need to touch her. His eyes ran down her exposed body, drinking in the view, and he drew forth a tingle of anticipation everywhere he looked.
Cora allowed her own gaze to wander for a moment. She couldn't help it, the way he had positioned himself above her. Maybe she should add sausage to their breakfast inventory...
Ready?" Jamie prompted again. He regarded her with his lowered brow and those upraised eyes again. With each degree his forehead tilted downward, the meaning of that look shifted, until it was right on the border between seductive and... downright predatory.
Her fate was sealed. She saw it written on his face. She had little hope of winning, but he wouldn't make it quick. No, he meant to draw it out. He would undo her, layer by layer. Pull her apart, piece by piece. There was only one thing about this battle that she couldn't predict from the start: Would he make her beg for mercy, or make her beg for more?
Cora's mouth felt dry. She ran the tip of her tongue around her lips. In the name of science, she reminded herself.
"Ready," she confirmed.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Dear Readers:
Surprise! Happy New Year! Any predictions who will win the last chocolate rugelach? I'll be back soon with the answer in the second half of this epilogue (and some news as well!)
Stay tuned! ❤️