He had come here for sex. He was still married and he was still wanting me, and worse, he thought I’d still be wanting him. He thought I was that type of woman.
And he had touched me.
I still felt his hand on my hip. I started feeling Wes everywhere. Everywhere.
I was no longer feeling Jamie.
Hand to my mouth and stomach rolling, I hurried to the kitchen, where I had dumped my purse before taking a shower. I grabbed it and pulled out my keys, slid the strap up my arm to my shoulder, and made for the door, barefoot. I didn’t even bother with shoes.
Tom called out a greeting when I stepped off the porch. He asked if everything was all right.
I lied, saying it was, and waved. I hid my face behind my hair.
I was crying when I got to my car, started it, and backed out of my driveway, but I was sobbing by the time I reached the highway. I couldn’t control it.
I couldn’t feel Jamie. I couldn’t taste him or smell the sun on his skin. I couldn’t remember how he shook.
I felt Wes.
Behind me and beneath me. Between my legs and inside my chest where I’d thought I had pushed him out. But I didn’t. He was still there.
I wanted him out. I wanted to forget.
I would beg to feel anything but him.
My tears stopped when I saw Jamie’s bike and a light on in one of the windows. He was home. He was awake.
I wiped at my face after I parked in the driveway, collecting myself as best as I could before I got out, leaving my purse and tucking my keys into my pocket. I hurried to the door and beat my knuckles on the wood. I wasn’t gentle.
My hand stung, but my hip burned. I could still hear Wes’s voice. “You want to fuck.”
I closed my eyes and bit the tremble in my lip.
The light above me came on. I heard locks being turned and I lowered my hand and opened my eyes a second before the door was swinging open and Jamie was filling it.
He had on blue mesh shorts that hung low and loose, no shirt, had hair that was wet and curling below his ears and eyes that were heavy, like he was tired but couldn’t sleep.
If he had showered, he didn’t shave. His jaw and neck and the skin above his lip were still shadowed. He looked rough.
He looked like sex and secrets.
This was bad. And I needed it.
I stared at his collarbone, his chest, and the muscles indenting beneath it. The patch of hair running from his navel to his waistband and lower. I just stared.
“You want somethin’?” Jamie rasped, elbow bent and anchoring on the frame.
My eyes snapped up. I wet my lips and watched his eyes follow my tongue. They flashed with heat. His nostrils flared.
I lunged at him and he caught me, dragging me up his body and into the house.
“Please,” I begged against his mouth.
He cursed, saying God and Fuck and hauling me closer.
Our tongues met and slid past, dipping and tasting. We kissed hard and wet. We were sloppy. We didn’t care.
Jamie kicked the door closed and slammed me against it. Hard. He was untamed.
I cried out and begged inside our kiss. Please. Please. Please. Please.
He growled and moaned, Yeah, baby, and Want this, and Need this. Keep beggin’.
Tears filled my eyes. I curled my fingers in his damp hair and pulled until he growled. I dragged my nails up his back and sank them between his ribs.
I wanted this to hurt.
I wanted his touch tattooed on my skin. I wanted to leave marks and bear his desperation tomorrow.
And the next day. And the next …
Jamie dipped his head and sucked on my neck as his hands kneaded my ass. Fingers pinching. Flesh bruising. He caught my skin between his teeth and clamped down.
My breath hitched. I tasted my tears as I opened my mouth and begged.
“Please.”
His hand slid between us and into my shorts. He pushed two fingers inside me and told me this was his.
“Please.”
My voice broke.
I closed my eyes and began to sob.
Jamie tensed with his entire body. “Hey.” His voice was soft and soothing as he leaned away and whispered, “Tori.” His fingers left me, then I felt his hand push strands of hair out of my face. “Babe. What the fuck?” he asked, holding my cheek.
“Don’t,” I choked, shaking my head and blinking away tears. “Don’t stop. Please. Please just, I—I want this. Please keep going.”
“You’re crying.”
“I’m begging!” I screamed, lifting my chin and locking on to his eyes.
Ocean boy blues filled with confusion and concern stared back.
I couldn’t take it.
I tried pulling him closer with my hands on his neck and back, wailing, “I’m begging, okay? You won! This is what you wanted! You wanted me to beg and I’m begging. Please!” I dropped my head and tried leaning into him. I wept harder. “Please don’t stop. Please. Please, Jamie. Please.”
“Tori, fuck! Stop!” he growled, fighting my hold while pressing closer at the same time, but not closer like I wanted him.
His fingers on my face were gentle. Not burning and moving over my body. I wanted to hide.
“Please,” I sobbed.
My body broke. My hands went limp and I buckled, falling into him. Strong arms caught me and held me up. They wrapped around me and felt like a promise.
I nestled closer, lifting my head off his chest and burying my face in his neck. “Please. I don’t want to feel him,” I cried with tears on my lips. “I don’t want to feel him anymore, Jamie.”
“Baby, who?” he asked, cupping the back of my head and dropping his mouth beside my temple. “Who don’t you wanna feel?”
“Wes.”
His arm around my back tightened, squeezing me.
“What the fuck? He do something to you?” Jamie’s voice vibrated through his body like thunder rolling. I felt it shake my bones. “Did he?”
I closed my eyes and whimpered. “He came over. I—I thought he was you.”
“Shit,” he mumbled, sounding fury-filled and something else. Regretful maybe. I wasn’t sure.
“He wanted to come in,” I continued. “He wanted to fuck. He thought I did, too. He … he said I didn’t care he was married. That I wanted it too much. He was wanting to pick back up where we left off.” I shook my head against his jaw and wrapped my hand around Jamie’s ribs. “I would never do that. I wouldn’t.”
“Motherfucker,” he snarled from above me. “He’s dead.”
“I felt you and then I felt him, and I—”
Jamie shoved me back, lifted my chin, and stared deep into my eyes, questioning with a low, grating, scary voice, “He touch you?”
I blinked, studying his hardened face. I’d never seen Jamie look like this before. He looked like rage. He looked a little crazy.
And he looked absolutely beautiful.
“Babe,” he pressed, when I kept on studying and forgot his question.
“Mm?”
He dipped closer, punctuating each word he spoke. “Did. He. Touch. You?”
I swallowed, staring back at blue eyes burning. “Not really. Just …” I slid my hand down his side and grabbed his smooth hip. “Like this. Where you did.”
His jaw clenched. He exhaled through his nostrils, flaring them. “He do anythin’ else?” he asked, staying close and keeping his fingers on my face.
And he had touched me.
I still felt his hand on my hip. I started feeling Wes everywhere. Everywhere.
I was no longer feeling Jamie.
Hand to my mouth and stomach rolling, I hurried to the kitchen, where I had dumped my purse before taking a shower. I grabbed it and pulled out my keys, slid the strap up my arm to my shoulder, and made for the door, barefoot. I didn’t even bother with shoes.
Tom called out a greeting when I stepped off the porch. He asked if everything was all right.
I lied, saying it was, and waved. I hid my face behind my hair.
I was crying when I got to my car, started it, and backed out of my driveway, but I was sobbing by the time I reached the highway. I couldn’t control it.
I couldn’t feel Jamie. I couldn’t taste him or smell the sun on his skin. I couldn’t remember how he shook.
I felt Wes.
Behind me and beneath me. Between my legs and inside my chest where I’d thought I had pushed him out. But I didn’t. He was still there.
I wanted him out. I wanted to forget.
I would beg to feel anything but him.
My tears stopped when I saw Jamie’s bike and a light on in one of the windows. He was home. He was awake.
I wiped at my face after I parked in the driveway, collecting myself as best as I could before I got out, leaving my purse and tucking my keys into my pocket. I hurried to the door and beat my knuckles on the wood. I wasn’t gentle.
My hand stung, but my hip burned. I could still hear Wes’s voice. “You want to fuck.”
I closed my eyes and bit the tremble in my lip.
The light above me came on. I heard locks being turned and I lowered my hand and opened my eyes a second before the door was swinging open and Jamie was filling it.
He had on blue mesh shorts that hung low and loose, no shirt, had hair that was wet and curling below his ears and eyes that were heavy, like he was tired but couldn’t sleep.
If he had showered, he didn’t shave. His jaw and neck and the skin above his lip were still shadowed. He looked rough.
He looked like sex and secrets.
This was bad. And I needed it.
I stared at his collarbone, his chest, and the muscles indenting beneath it. The patch of hair running from his navel to his waistband and lower. I just stared.
“You want somethin’?” Jamie rasped, elbow bent and anchoring on the frame.
My eyes snapped up. I wet my lips and watched his eyes follow my tongue. They flashed with heat. His nostrils flared.
I lunged at him and he caught me, dragging me up his body and into the house.
“Please,” I begged against his mouth.
He cursed, saying God and Fuck and hauling me closer.
Our tongues met and slid past, dipping and tasting. We kissed hard and wet. We were sloppy. We didn’t care.
Jamie kicked the door closed and slammed me against it. Hard. He was untamed.
I cried out and begged inside our kiss. Please. Please. Please. Please.
He growled and moaned, Yeah, baby, and Want this, and Need this. Keep beggin’.
Tears filled my eyes. I curled my fingers in his damp hair and pulled until he growled. I dragged my nails up his back and sank them between his ribs.
I wanted this to hurt.
I wanted his touch tattooed on my skin. I wanted to leave marks and bear his desperation tomorrow.
And the next day. And the next …
Jamie dipped his head and sucked on my neck as his hands kneaded my ass. Fingers pinching. Flesh bruising. He caught my skin between his teeth and clamped down.
My breath hitched. I tasted my tears as I opened my mouth and begged.
“Please.”
His hand slid between us and into my shorts. He pushed two fingers inside me and told me this was his.
“Please.”
My voice broke.
I closed my eyes and began to sob.
Jamie tensed with his entire body. “Hey.” His voice was soft and soothing as he leaned away and whispered, “Tori.” His fingers left me, then I felt his hand push strands of hair out of my face. “Babe. What the fuck?” he asked, holding my cheek.
“Don’t,” I choked, shaking my head and blinking away tears. “Don’t stop. Please. Please just, I—I want this. Please keep going.”
“You’re crying.”
“I’m begging!” I screamed, lifting my chin and locking on to his eyes.
Ocean boy blues filled with confusion and concern stared back.
I couldn’t take it.
I tried pulling him closer with my hands on his neck and back, wailing, “I’m begging, okay? You won! This is what you wanted! You wanted me to beg and I’m begging. Please!” I dropped my head and tried leaning into him. I wept harder. “Please don’t stop. Please. Please, Jamie. Please.”
“Tori, fuck! Stop!” he growled, fighting my hold while pressing closer at the same time, but not closer like I wanted him.
His fingers on my face were gentle. Not burning and moving over my body. I wanted to hide.
“Please,” I sobbed.
My body broke. My hands went limp and I buckled, falling into him. Strong arms caught me and held me up. They wrapped around me and felt like a promise.
I nestled closer, lifting my head off his chest and burying my face in his neck. “Please. I don’t want to feel him,” I cried with tears on my lips. “I don’t want to feel him anymore, Jamie.”
“Baby, who?” he asked, cupping the back of my head and dropping his mouth beside my temple. “Who don’t you wanna feel?”
“Wes.”
His arm around my back tightened, squeezing me.
“What the fuck? He do something to you?” Jamie’s voice vibrated through his body like thunder rolling. I felt it shake my bones. “Did he?”
I closed my eyes and whimpered. “He came over. I—I thought he was you.”
“Shit,” he mumbled, sounding fury-filled and something else. Regretful maybe. I wasn’t sure.
“He wanted to come in,” I continued. “He wanted to fuck. He thought I did, too. He … he said I didn’t care he was married. That I wanted it too much. He was wanting to pick back up where we left off.” I shook my head against his jaw and wrapped my hand around Jamie’s ribs. “I would never do that. I wouldn’t.”
“Motherfucker,” he snarled from above me. “He’s dead.”
“I felt you and then I felt him, and I—”
Jamie shoved me back, lifted my chin, and stared deep into my eyes, questioning with a low, grating, scary voice, “He touch you?”
I blinked, studying his hardened face. I’d never seen Jamie look like this before. He looked like rage. He looked a little crazy.
And he looked absolutely beautiful.
“Babe,” he pressed, when I kept on studying and forgot his question.
“Mm?”
He dipped closer, punctuating each word he spoke. “Did. He. Touch. You?”
I swallowed, staring back at blue eyes burning. “Not really. Just …” I slid my hand down his side and grabbed his smooth hip. “Like this. Where you did.”
His jaw clenched. He exhaled through his nostrils, flaring them. “He do anythin’ else?” he asked, staying close and keeping his fingers on my face.
