The lights flickered on, searing my retinas. I squinted, my mouth still warm from Jake, only to see my mother standing in the doorway like a vengeful ghost in a silk robe.
"What in the hell is going on in here?" her voice was a whip-crack.
I scrambled back, the cool air hitting my damp lips as Jake reached for the duvet to cover his hardness. For a second, no one breathed. Then the screaming started.
"Get out! Both of you!" she shrieked, her face contorting into something I didn't recognize. "I’m divorcing you, Jake! And you—" she looked at me with pure loathing, "you’re disgusting. To do this in my home?"
"Clara, stop," Jake’s voice was suddenly clinical, ice-cold. He didn't look like a man who had just been caught. He looked like a man who had been waiting for this. "Don't talk about
