Chapter 24
twenty-four
JONAH
Don’t Reign Me In - Sam Fender, Olivia Dean
It’s her.
And now I had her, I wanted to hold her close, live in her glow, trace every delicate little freckle with my fingertips.
Her lips slid against mine, the delicious taste pulling me back to that winter we shared together.
I tangled my hand in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.
Twisting us around, I trapped her against the counter, one hand gripping its edge and the other on her waist. I wanted to remove every millimetre of space between us.
After thirteen years, I’d had about as much distance from her as I could survive.
Kit Sinclair had never left my memory. Not for a single day. There wasn’t a laugh that didn’t remind me of hers. A blue ocean that didn’t make me think of her eyes. A pink that I didn’t compare to her lips.
All this time, I’d been living on half a breath, on restricted air. And now she was in my arms again, I could inhale deeply, that same expensive peach perfume.
Her hands began to pull at my shirt, fingers fiddling with the buttons as my own started to inch up her cotton t-shirt. I wanted to feel her bare against me, feel her weight on mine, ink every kiss against my skin.
“Take this off,” she said, hauling my shirt down my arms, her eyes searching my torso. With a huff of laughter, I complied, pulling it off the rest of the way.
“Whoa, this is new.” Kit grinned. Her gaze raked down my body, taking in the collection of tattoos I’d started to collect across my shoulder, down my torso.
Some were inspired by home, little hallmarks to my family; others were following the careers of the players I’d worked with, little marks for Paris and New York that we got together, designs I’d let them choose if they won the bet.
She lifted her hand, touching my chest. I stilled under her touch, realizing what she had found.
“Coordinates?” she asked, a delicate finger tracing over each digit inked along my collarbone.
I nodded, my throat too dry to manage words. I felt overexposed, a little too raw too quickly to admit what I knew she was about to ask.
“Where for?” Her eyes found mine. “Your family?”
I swallowed, pushing away the confession, instead keeping it tucked away for later. “Something like that,” I said, before dipping down, my hands wrapping around her thighs to pull her up onto the counter, bringing our faces level.
I blinked, my brain thrown by her beauty. She’d only grown more beautiful, a stronger version of herself that I wanted to get to know. Inside and out.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” I admitted, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest. “Why didn’t you say it was him?
” I asked. It had hit me like a lightning bolt on her doorstep; I could barely move putting all the pieces together; and the realization struck me again.
“Her father. I worked for Matteo, I coached your daughter for years, and I never knew. I’d wondered.
I’d always wondered. I thought I was making it up, like I was trying to see you in people you weren’t,” I admitted, Kit’s eyes searching my face.
They’d looked so similar; it felt too much like a coincidence.
“If she was yours”—I had to blink away tears—“Scottie. So much of her reminded me of you. Your strength, and courage, and wit. She’s your daughter. ”
I’d ended another relationship when I joined Scottie’s coaching team.
Another woman I’d disappointed because I couldn’t return their feelings.
Disappearing into my career seemed like the smartest thing to do.
Then I’d seen the young tennis player and nearly quit on the spot.
It was like meeting the ghost of a woman I’d once loved.
But something had kept me around. Maybe it was the way her father was, driven and hard.
Maybe I knew that she needed a responsible coach, somebody who would help her and not push her in the way her father clearly was.
In a way, I’d raised her daughter rather than have my own, and that decision had taken me back to Kit.
To the woman I’d tried almost everything to fall out of love with.
Her gaze turned inquisitive, her lips swollen from the kiss. “You never looked me up? Never picked up a magazine?”
“You made me promise not to, remember? I said I wouldn’t Google you.
” I’d been tempted, so many nights, to see what she was up to.
If she was doing okay. But I kept the promise, knowing how much she’d hated the thought of me breaking it, remembering what she’d said.
“Besides, I’m not really an online kind of guy. Never made it to ‘the Facebook’.”
“Showing your age there, grandpa.” Her grin grew, her head shaking. “Although I can’t say you’re missing much.”
I pressed forward, longing for the return of her lips. “I was missing you.”
If I’d looked her up, this could’ve been all the sooner, could’ve given us so much more time together. But I’d made her a promise not to, and given the way she’d left so suddenly, I hadn’t thought there was a hope of reconciliation. Her note had stung, but it kept me going, kept my head down.
Her hands curled around my neck, lifting my head and bringing her mouth to mine. The kiss was soft and slow, an ache all the way down to my bones, painful and pleasant. She was the only thing that could inflict or ease it.
I pulled her back to me, lips sliding against each other. Her legs tightened around me as my hand creeped up her body, easing up her top, exploring the body I’d memorized in the small number of days we shared.
She was here. She was mine. And I couldn’t take another moment being away from her. Instead, I pulled her top off, her arms rising to allow me easy access, and left her sitting on the countertop with only a delicate lace bra.
“Perfect,” I murmured, tracing a line down her shoulder with kisses, nudging the bra strap with my nose. “You’ve always been perfect.”
And then I scooped her up, pulling her close.
Holding her weight against my body, I slipped us out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Kit laughed, clinging onto me tightly, in between instructing the way.
The bedroom was bigger than any hotel room I’d stayed in the last ten years, more luxurious but exactly how I might have imagined.
A king-sized bed covered in plush bedding, a huge walk-in closet, clothes and shoe boxes piled high.
I softly placed her on the mattress, sitting down beside her. Carefully we lost ourselves in each other again, a tangle of limbs. Her hands worked at my jeans, mine already pulling hers off to reveal the familiar endless length of legs. I wasted no time; I savoured kissing every inch of her.
Without her, I’d been living half a life. One with this bone-deep ache that only reminded me of the loss. And now I’d found her, the pain was cured – gone – replaced by the trace of her smile, the sparkle in her eye that told me she wanted this as much as I did.
Every drag of skin – the way she eased down my body, using her mouth to tease, licking and sucking as she took me in her mouth – erased every thought from my brain.
I muttered sweet nothings in between moans and growls, trying desperately to hold onto a thread of self-control.
I had to stop myself bucking into her mouth, from finishing too quickly.
She felt flawless. Every movement of her dragged me closer to the edge. I’d never wanted somebody so intensely.
I needed to take my time, wanted to savour every moment with her. I’d lost her once. Now, I understood how precious every single moment was. I wasn’t going to waste a second.
I dragged her back up, turning the tables, tasting between her thighs. Her legs wrapped around my neck, hands pulling at my hair; she arched into every touch, giving as much as she took. Every moan and cry from her lips was a broken symphony, music to my ears.
The taste of her was a craving I’d been carrying for years, one I couldn’t put my finger on until the first stroke of my tongue. She had me on my knees, moaning my name as I ate, swearing to gods I didn’t believe in that I’d never let her go again.
And when we were both about spent, when our hearts and bodies were raw with the intensity, I slid back up the bed, landing right beside her.
Her lips found mine, a deepening kiss that had us twisting in the bedsheets.
Kit turned us, sliding me onto my back as she sat on top, her legs on either side of my waist. I placed my hands on her thighs, pressed my fingers into her skin, fighting disbelief that this really was her.
She looked like an angel, blonde hair tumbling down to her breasts, her lips puffy, blue eyes on mine. “You okay there?”
My words left me for a second. After everything – after she’d left – I’d felt hollowed out. Like every emotion I had I’d given to her. And all I had was the reminder that if she left again, if this was all she could give me, I’d have nothing.
“I need…” I trailed off, losing my nerve.
As though she still knew how to read me, her hand found my face, lingering down my jawline, bringing my gaze back to her. The touch was soft; it grounded me to her, acknowledging that despite being naked beneath her, I was trying to be more vulnerable than I’d ever been with anyone.
“Before this happens, I need to know if this is all I get,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “If it’s only tonight. Or if I can have more of you.”
She didn’t answer at first, instead pulling down until her lips met mine, the soft slide a comfort.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She murmured the words against my skin.
I felt as if they’d been tattooed there, right next to the coordinates. I kissed her back, passion sparking for her again. I could be hers. No matter what that looked like in this life, she wanted us to be together. And it was all I could hope for.