Chapter Ten
That night changed everything.
Jameson was used to talking things out with his lovers and structuring rules. Defining expectations. Not because he was unromantic, but he found things worked smoother when all parties communicated. He liked to be clear about his limitations so he didn’t hurt anyone.
With Devon, they woke up in the morning and they were together.
He’d reached for her multiple times in the darkness, insatiable for more. A fierce connection thrummed between them on a scale he’d never experienced. There was no thought to anything but the knowledge he needed to be with her.
Jameson waited for her to ask about their relationship, or question what they were doing. After all, he only had a few weeks left here before Mac returned and then he’d go back to his real life.
Except Devon was slowly becoming his real life.
And she never asked. They fell into a routine over the next week naturally. They ate breakfast together, went to their jobs, and touched base during the day. Devon came to Vintage with Bear every evening after she closed the shop. They’d hang together for the final hour before close, then head back to either Mac’s house or her apartment for the evening. They’d stay up late talking and making love, until they fell into an exhausted sleep for a few hours.
She’d been right about the gossip. He couldn’t go anywhere without curious looks and low murmurs. Every table at Vintage poked and prodded him with questions about Devon. He smiled politely and repeated the same staged line over and over. Devon said they were doing the same in her flower shop and business had never been better.
He made some final changes at Vintage, serving dinner late for Christmas Eve and closing Christmas day. When she asked if there was any place he needed to be for the holidays, he told her no.
She’d just smiled and responded with the same.
They spent Christmas and New Year’s together, staying late at Vintage with Bear, nursing a glass of champagne under the mistletoe he never took down.
It was the best holiday he’d ever had.
Jameson knew time was running out for both of them. Eventually, a decision needed to be made.
He just didn’t know if he could make it.
* * * *
Devon collapsed on her sofa, groaning at the ache in her feet. Of course, things had been going so well, she was due for a wedding from hell. For some strange reason, January brides were the worst. Maybe they were cranky they missed the holidays, or that the beach town was suddenly stripped of lights and gaiety as everyone shut down until spring. She still didn’t have a valid reason except the next few weeks would be torturous since nothing made them happy.
Avery and Bella had done everything in their power to create perfection at the Sea Salt, but everything had been cursed. The bride’s father-in-law spilled a tumbler of tequila on her dress and she stank like a distillery. A fight broke out with two of her cousins and ended in a fist fight on the dance floor. For Devon’s part, she’d been delivered fifteen dead bouquets from her custom supplier and had gone into overdrive trying to pull together replacements. Of course, the bride noticed the switch- out and burst into tears. Devon had to heavily discount the fee and deal with a bad review.
She just wanted to see Jameson.
Even his name brought a silly smile to her lips and a lurch in her tummy. Devon wasn’t the type of woman who cared about a certain time before she had sex—it was all gut instinct and what felt right. She wasn’t big into declaring rules up front either, and sensed Jameson worked the same way.
Except…
She’d never fallen into a heavy relationship after two weeks and one night together.
Jordan and Sistine insisted they all hang out the day after Christmas before they could officially approve him. When she mentioned it, Jameson agreed, and they’d shared a drink after supper. After a tense beginning, they soon fell into easy chatter and her friends had declared him good enough for her to sleep with.
For Devon, it was the last hurdle.
A tap at the door brought Bear barreling forward, whining with fervor. She limped over and opened it.
Jameson picked her up and kissed her. She immediately melted into him; body familiar with every hard muscle. She stroked his glossy hair and savored the rough stubble on his cheeks. Her nostrils hummed with every delicious breath of his musk scented skin. She always knew she was a passionate person and sex was an important factor for her in a relationship. But never in her life had she imagined the sensuality and intensity of Jameson Franklin. He practically seethed with virility once unleashed and she loved every moment.
His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, then sucked. Her head spun.
Bear barked.
“Sorry, beast, you’re next.” Shooting her a grin, he released her and gave Bear his demanded attention. There was a bond between them now, evident in the way Jameson thought about not only the dog’s needs but his wants. That gentle, beautiful heart of his burned bright and strong, and Devon was lucky to have discovered it.
“I can’t imagine I once thought of you as the Grinch,” she commented.
“I think it was Scrooge. I was being tight with my pennies, remember?”
“Yeah, that’s right. How come you’re here? I thought I was meeting you after work.”
“Because you had the wedding from hell and I figured I’d leave a bit early to come to you.”
“Are you like this with all your girlfriends?” she asked teasingly.
She waited for him to tease back, but his features tightened. “No, I wasn’t,” he said. A raw truth edged his words, and she tilted her head, waiting. “I think I was a pretty lousy lover in the past.”
“Physically I think that’s impossible.”
His lip twitched. “Emotionally. Mentally. Respectfully.” He seemed to get lost in thought. “I held myself back because I was too worried about my needs. My career. My place. My friends. My money. My relationships never lasted long, and I always believed I was this guy who was above reproach, wanting to be honest about my limitations.”
She felt close to a big reveal, something that would allow a deeper piece of himself to unlock and share with her. “And now?”
His gaze locked with hers. “Now I think I was full of bullshit. I just didn’t want to take the chance.”
Something shifted between them. Devon wanted to ask more questions, but sensed it wasn’t the time to push. “I’m not perfect either. I’ve made mistakes.”
“Earth-shattering mistakes? Or more like taking away pancakes from everyone who loved them?”
She laughed and pushed her hair back. “Like being happy with surface relationships because they looked good. Fit my expectations of the type of man I should be with.”
He lifted a brow. “Like Gabe?”
Her mouth fell open. “How do you know about that?”
“Oh, trust me, I heard it all from good-natured, well-meaning gossipy locals.”
“What else did you hear?” she asked suspiciously.
He ticked them off his fingers. “You dated Gabe hot and heavy for a while, then broke up. Then you roomed with a woman named Lily for six months which was supposedly your transitional. Then you broke up and tried to get back with Gabe, but he was in love with Bella so you let him go.”
“I cannot believe this,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I hate small towns.”
“It was fascinating. Want to expand on any of it?”
Devon rolled her eyes and marched toward the kitchen to grab two seltzers. “No. Except Lily and I were never involved in that type of relationship. She’s a childhood friend who was going through some stuff and moved in with me for a while. Someone saw us hugging and me kissing her on the lips—a friendly peck in greeting—and that was it for the rumor mill.”
“Did it bother you?”
“No, I didn’t really care. No one was judging me. At least, no one I deal with on a personal basis.”
She turned, ready to hand him the seltzer, but the look in his eyes made her pause. Immediately, she grew damp between her thighs. He stalked across the room and stood before her. She shivered.
“The more time I spend with you, the more I want you.”
Slowly, he took the can and touched it to her lips. The iciness burned, but he rolled it softly, barely brushing her mouth. Moving it downward, he touched her nipples, coasted down her stomach and kicked her legs apart.
Then pressed the can between her legs.
She cried out, and he yanked her against him, kissing her wildly. They sunk down to the floor and as she tumbled on top of his hard body, Devon wondered how she’d ever be able to watch him leave.
* * * *
After taking out Bear and settling him in, they made it to bed.
“Tell me, flower girl. How did I get lucky enough to find you single?” He pressed kisses to her stomach, her breasts, worshiping each inch of skin with his lips and tongue and teeth. He savored her tiny moans and the way she arched into his touch. She made him ravenous for more, to devour her whole, even though he’d claimed her twice already.
“I could say the same for you.” Suddenly, her head shot up and her gaze narrowed. “Wait—you are single, right?”
“Yes. I’m not a cheater.” He bit gently into her inner thigh for punishment. She curled her toes and stretched into the pain. Hmm, he’d need to explore that more. Devon kept surprising him in and out of bed. He had a feeling he could spend a lifetime being surprised.
“Sorry, just checking. I’ve been happy single and I’ve been happy in relationships. It’s not like I’m desperate to get married or have kids.” She paused, but he stayed silent, wanting her to share more. “I’ve always felt that no matter how my life turned, I would be okay with it. But lately, I’ve been thinking about more. It’s not about society establishments, or watching my friends all settle down, either. I just want to share my life with someone. Someone to be with me through the ups and downs, the travel, the laughs, the tears. To watch Netflix with, or tell my bad dreams to. I’m not looking for someone to fill me up. I’ve filled myself up.”
“You want someone to stand beside you,” he said, staring up her gorgeous naked body to look her in the eyes.
Relief flickered over her delicate features. “Exactly.”
“You deserve that, Devon. I think we all do, especially when you build a beautiful life. Why wouldn’t you want to share it?”
He loved the way she expressed herself. Jameson found himself looking at things differently when he was around her. He liked who he was better, too.
Her fingers coasted over the simple black rose tattooed on his wrist. The startled expression on her face when they made love the second time haunted him. She’d studied his ink with an intense curiosity, her gaze hesitant as she realized it was a rose, and probably for another woman. There were no initials or name. Just a simple, elegant scrawl so he’d always remember.
Finally, she’d asked one simple question. Was it for another woman?
He’d given the only answer possible.
Yes.
Nodding, she’d dropped the subject and never brought it up again. But her fingers burned as she outlined the petals and stalk, along with the one tiny thorn adorning the stem. Jameson was beginning to wonder if the memory he’d inked into his skin had been a foretelling. A change from bittersweet grief to the most dangerous emotion of all.
Hope.
“Jameson?”
He held his breath and wondered what she’d ask. If he’d tell her everything. “Yes?”
“Is a rose your favorite flower? Or your worst?”
God, he was crazy about her. Loved how she probed on her own terms, yet allowed him plenty of time to breathe in between the intensity. He felt as if his soul’s outer layers were being peeled back one by one. “It’s still my favorite.”
Devon didn’t answer. She just reached for him. Their mouths brushed, and he nibbled on her lower lip, touched with his tongue. Savored her essence, drowning in her musky scent and satiny, damp skin. He pulled her hair over her breasts, watching how her hard nipples poked through, cherry red and edible. He licked the tips, admiring his handiwork.
Her breath came faster. Sucking firmly, his hand drifted down between her legs, sliding easily into her hot wetness. His fingers played. “God, you’re so ready for me. What are you doing to me, flower girl?”
She opened her thighs and arched. “I’m blooming for you, Jameson. Take me.”
He muttered a curse. Quickly donning a condom, he pushed inside her swollen heat but this time, he went slow. Every thrust was measured. He drank in every flicker of her expression, adjusting his movements and speed based on her features, until he had her at the edge.
Then he kept her there. Her pleas were prayers to his ears. Her body was his to worship. And when he was about to break apart himself, Jameson dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her up, taking her hard and deep until she screamed his name and came all over his dick, her body jerking in his arms, giving herself up and over to him.
He took his own release with the last jarring thought screaming through his mind.
He was never letting this go.
He was never letting her go.