Chapter 12
Crying is the Best Aphrodisiac
After we get Arrietty and the baby settled in the barn, I’m covered in blood, amniotic fluid, and what I’m pretty sure is reindeer placenta.
“You go get cleaned up,” Jamie says.
“Did the girls get to school okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He smiles, eyes crinkling at the side. “I’ll set up the fireplace.”
“I’m not arguing with that.”
By the time I step out of the bathroom in my cabin, wrapped in one of my oversized robes that took up half a suitcase and still seemed like a good packing decision, the living room glows with orange light. The fire snaps, and Jamie’s added more logs to the basket beside it.
He’s standing by the window, looking out at the dark barn, and for a moment I just watch him.
The red in his ears and the apples of his cheeks from being out in the snow too long.
The way the hair at his nape is still damp, frozen with sweat.
The fact that he built me a fire and didn’t ask for anything in return.
When was the last time someone did something like that for me?
“All set?” he asks, turning. “Joy.” He shakes his head, like he’s in utter disbelief that I exist.
I’m suddenly very aware that I’m naked under this robe. That my hair’s dripping down my back. That we’re alone in a very small cabin with a very large bed.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Thanks for the fire.”
He crosses to me, stopping just close enough that I can smell him. “You did an amazing thing today, Joy.”
“Jamie,” I whisper, and I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
But he does.
He cups my face in his rough palms and kisses me.
It’s not like the frantic couch incident yesterday. This is slower. Deeper. Like he’s trying to taste the marshmallows he put in my coffee this morning.
All the words in my head vanish as I let my body settle into every feeling. Happiness. Overwhelmed. Passion.
“Joy.” He pulls back, panting. “I haven’t been with anyone since Tessa. Nine years. And I told myself I wouldn’t—that I couldn’t—unless it meant something. Unless it was more than just—”
“Just sex,” I finish.
“Yeah. But I know you’re leaving.”
“Then maybe we don’t need to think too much about it for now?
” I hold his gaze before I tiptoe up to kiss his mustache, the stubble on his cheek, his ear.
“I know I haven’t stopped thinking about you.
And I know that when you look at me, I feel like I’m more than just Dr. Winters, who works too much and forgets to eat and can’t figure out how to be a person outside the clinic. ”
“You are more than that,” he whispers in a beautiful, deep tone that ripples across my sternum. “So much more.”
He looks down, slowly undoing my robe. His Adam’s apple bobs as his jaw tenses. When my robe is on the floor, he hisses. The heat from the fire kisses the left side of my naked body.
“You’re stunning.” He runs the backs of his knuckles up my waist, barely touching me, and goose bumps rise in his wake. “Perfect.”
I gulp as he drags the pad of his thumb from my collarbone, then down between my breasts. His green eyes darken, his pupils swallowing his restraint.
“Can I touch you?”
“I’ve been waiting for you all week, Jamie.” I clutch his hand and place it over my breast. A vein in his forearm twitches.
I work his flannel off, then the thermal underneath, and God, he’s sweltering, and there’s gray threading through the dark hair on his chest and down to his stomach.
Then I’m kissing him again, and his touch is no longer exploratory but feverish. He walks me backward to the bed, our hearts beating like thunder.
“Tell me if you want to stop.”
“I don’t want to stop.” I fall back onto the mattress, pulling him with me. The plaid flannel sheets and duvet wrap around us. “I want you to fuck me until I forget my own name.”
He makes a strangled sound. “Jesus, Joy.”
“What? Too much?”
“The opposite.” He crawls over me, and his shoulder muscles flex in a way that makes me want to drool.
The lines are hard and shadowed in the overhead light.
His erection presses into my thigh through his jeans, and I fumble for his belt buckle, grinding my wetness onto his pants.
“I spend all day being Dad. Being responsible. Making sure everyone else is okay.” His hand roams up my inner leg, teasing.
“But right now? I want to make you fall apart.”
“Then do it.” Lust coats my voice. “Show me what nine years of pent-up frustration looks like.”
He grins, all teeth and promise, and then his mouth is on my neck, my collarbone, the curve of my breast. When he clasps my nipple between his teeth, I arch off the bed with a gasp.
“Sensitive,” he murmurs approvingly.
“Shut up and take your pants off.” The belt is already undone, my hand grasping at the elastic of his boxers.
“Bossy.” But he shoves the denim and boxers down until he’s gloriously naked. His dick springs out, precum lining the tip like he’s ready for me. Jamie nudges my legs open with his forearms.
I want him criminally.
I have about two seconds to appreciate the view before he’s back to kissing me senseless while his hand meanders down, ghosting along my abdomen until he hovers just above my clit. The lack of contact is excruciating.
“Am I gonna find you wet for me, Doc?”
“Apparently, I have a thing for men who build fires while I’m naked in the shower.” I move an inch, but he snatches back his hand.
“Slow.”
I bite his forearm, which is supporting his weight next to my head. “I hate that word.”
“How do you feel about gentle?”
“Loathe it.” I keep our eyes locked. A delicious smile spreads across his face like I’ve said exactly what he wants to hear. My back bucks, and he slaps my clit. I squeal, and he binds my wrists in one of his hands, pinning them above me.
“Impatient.” He descends down my naked body, leaving soft kisses over each inch of my breasts, my stomach, and along the inside of my thigh.
His mustache feels delightfully wicked, adding a new level of sensation I’ve never felt before, but I like it—no, I fucking love it.
Finally, his tongue laps over my clit and my entire body jerks in response.
“You taste so sweet, Joy.”
My name from his lips makes a current vibrate underneath my skin. He sucks the bud in between his teeth.
“Jamie,” I whimper.
He laughs, vibrating against my most sensitive place.
“I thought you were out of practice.”
“Guess my body just remembers with you,” he says, kissing back up my torso.
“I—” I laugh, almost on the verge of tears for the second time today. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard in years.
“I had to jack off again after you left last night. I could still smell you all over me.” Behind him, the fire pops, and I feel like I’m lost in the flames. He’s breathing in deep bursts, as if he’s trying to control himself. “Were you this wet when you left me last night?”
“Yes.”
“Did you come back to this cabin and touch yourself?”
“Yes,” I admit. His teeth scrape against my skin. He looks absolutely undone.
The precum on his tip drips along my skin. I reach down, swiping it off and placing it in my mouth.
“Fuck.” His shadowy gaze pins me. “You are such a filthy girl, aren’t you?”
I’ve never been into dirty talk or eye contact during sex. Parker tried once, and it was so awkward that we both pretended it never happened.
But hearing it from Jamie—in that rough, certain voice—makes me feel safe, makes my body throb with desire.
“I am.” I keep eye contact like we did last night as I rub my digits along my tongue and lips.
He shudders, spanking my clit again, and I yip in pleasure. Then, he slips two fingers inside me, curling to hit that perfect spot. He groans into my collarbone. “You gonna come for me like this? Or do you want my cock?”
“Your cock.” I bite along the edge of his trapezius. “Want you inside me.”
He empties his fingers from me, and I whimper at the loss, closing my eyes. “Look at me while I fuck you, Joy.” With one hand, he tilts my jaw, so I have no other choice but to face him.
“Open,” he orders.
My throat goes bone dry. I obey. He’s above me, neck tight, and he lets out a raspy sigh. “That’s my sweet girl.”
My mouth drops open. His girl.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to use a condom?”
I should want that. I’m always responsible. I’ve never risked unprotected sex, but he hasn’t had sex in nearly a decade.
I shake my head, no.
He bites his lower lip, gripping himself. “That means I’m going to fill you, Joy.” His hardness hovers between my entrance, his swollen head bumping against my clit.
“Please.”
My gaze is ensnared in his. And with excruciating slowness, he glides inside of me. Just an inch and then another.
My brain forgets how to work.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Please.”
He continues. He’s big—bigger than Parker, bigger than anyone I’ve been with—and the stretch is blissfully tender. But then my body adjusts, and he sinks deeper, and it’s perfect. I gasp, and he whimpers, his eyes drifting closed.
“Jesus Christ,” he grits out, forehead dropping to my sweaty skin. “I need a second.”
I grind against him.
“Baby, slow.” He returns to stroking my clit as I move in small circles on his cock, lifting my hips to feel him deeper.
He lifts his head. “Breathe.” His chest expands, and I follow his lead.
He watches me, touching different parts of my body, spending longer on the spots that make me grind against him faster.
He’s taking his time, reading me.
This is what I’ve been missing. Not just sex, but the connection, the intensity, the feeling of being completely present instead of mentally running through tomorrow’s surgery schedule.
He thrusts, and the fullness of him drives me to the edge of oblivion.
“Jamie.” I’m rocking needy now, the old bed frame rapping against the wall. He pants through his nose like he’s restraining himself, and that makes me want him even more. I want to be the reason he comes. He hits a spot inside me that makes my body tingle with pleasure.
I cry out, high and desperate and completely uninhibited. My fingers and toes curl into the flannel sheets.
“That’s it,” he encourages, angling deeper. “Let me hear you.”
“Don’t stop—right there—fuck—”
I want it to be rougher. To make the world spin and my lungs ache.
I seize his hand and wrap it around my throat. He squeezes it. As he chokes me, he kisses my swollen parted lips desperately. He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.
“I need you to come for me.” He pistons his hips again, never letting up the pressure around my neck. “I’m barely holding on.”
It’s all too close. Too intimate. Too real. Before I know what’s happening, tears prick my eyes as I stumble closer to my climax. I clench my lids shut.
“Look at me when you come on my cock,” he commands, and I obey. My orgasm washes over me. I spasm around him. My head rushes with lights and fuzz and pleasure so mind-numbing, I swear I leave my body.
“That’s it.” He bites his lip. “So fucking beautiful when you come.”
Before my orgasm collapses, he pins my wrists above my head. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.
“My turn,” he growls.
The shift in him is intoxicating. His arousal clear in his urgent movements.
He drives his cock into me harder, deeper, and I arch up to meet him, wrapping my legs around his waist. He hooks my thighs under his arm.
“Jamie—” His name breaks on my lips.
“I can’t get enough of you. Your mind, these legs.” He kisses my calf. “Your eyes when you’re taking my cock.” His voice is choppy. “Your breath when you’re coming. I want to hear it again.”
“I can’t—I just—”
He finds my clit again, and I nearly sob from the overstimulation. “Give me another one. I know you’ve got it in you.”
He’s relentless. Every thrust hits that perfect spot inside me while his fingers work magic between my legs. The dual sensation sends a prism of colors blasting over my vision—too much and somehow not enough.
“That’s it,” he encourages. Sweat beads his temples and glistens across his chest. “Feel how deep I am? How perfectly you take me?”
His words alone could push me over the edge. I’m climbing again, impossibly fast, that tension coiling tighter.
“Jamie, I’m—oh god—”
“Come for me,” he demands.
I don’t have any energy to argue or fight it, and another orgasm ripples over me. My toes curl, and he releases my wrists. I cling to him, nails raking down his back as I ride it out.
“Fuck yes.” He lets out a deep, guttural sound, and then he’s coming.
His whole body goes taut, then he rocks into me as he empties himself inside me. The surge of it, the intimacy, sends another small aftershock through my oversensitive body.
Time returns in languid waves. First, I hear our ragged breaths. Then I feel my heart thumping against his chest, his weight pressing me into the mattress in the most perfect way.
Finally, he pulls out of me, and hot liquid runs down my inner thigh.
Jamie runs over and grabs a towel from the kitchen, turns on the tap, and gets the water hot before coming back to clean me up. Neither of us says a word, but when our eyes meet, we both can’t help smiling.
When he climbs back into bed, he pulls me into his chest, and I nuzzle the hair there, savoring his musky scent. We just lie there, grinning at each other, neither knowing what to say, but both knowing we’re happy.
This is dangerous, I think. This feeling. Wanting to stay right here instead of checking my phone or planning my next move or maintaining the careful distance I always keep.
But for once, I don’t fight it.
I just close my eyes and let myself feel safe right here, tucked against his chest.
“Joy?” His voice whispers onto the top of my head
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you answered that Craigslist ad.”
Pleasure and happiness mix into a heady cocktail I didn’t know I was missing. I bury my face in his pecs and laugh.
“Me too.”
And I mean it.
Which is terrifying.
But also—maybe—kind of perfect.