Chapter 24
JACE
A strangled sound escapes from Presley. I’m not sure if it’s a laugh or a sob, but either way, it steals my heart. The one that already belongs to her.
“I don’t know if I should be happy or scared that you think I’m worth being puked on. Again.”
“Happy.”
She smiles, letting her giggle flow freely as she pushes to her toes to kiss me lightly. It’s brief, a faint brush of her lips against mine, but it’s everything.
“Weirdly, that might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I hope not,” I counter, tightening my grip on her. “I hope I’ve delivered some better lines than that.”
A blush appears on Presley’s cheeks almost instantly, turning her the cutest shade of pink. One that is very similar to the color my mother threatened to paint her downstairs powder room. It looks much better on Presley though.
“Maybe…” She sighs, snuggling into me. Delivering on my promise, I start to slowly rock us back and forth to the pretend tune playing in my head. “But…the meaning of this one…that’s what does it. You choosing us.”
“I meant what I said, Mama.” I press my lips to her forehead again, hoping that it offers reassurance. “I don’t know what the future holds. None of us do. But I got you. I choose you. I choose Otis. Please choose me back.”
My heart stops, my breath right along with it as I wait for her to respond.
Actually, the whole world has stopped. Come to a complete and utter halt, no movement whatsoever as the seconds grow longer and longer.
The chance that she might reject me again lingers, growing louder in my mind with each new echo.
That she might tell me she doesn’t want the same thing.
Because I want forever with this women. With this family.
“I choose you back.”
Thank God…I can breathe again…
“Pretty sure Otis chooses you too.”
Fuck, yes.
“He just likes me because of my access to heavy machinery,” I joke. “But I’ll take what I can get.”
Presley’s laughter fills the room, lighting me up inside. She chooses me back.
Of all the ways I saw my life going, this was not it. These were not the tropes I saw myself taking on. But I can’t imagine it any other way. More importantly, I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Proving that real life is always stranger than fiction.
“He chooses you because you’re you.” Stepping back, Presley looks up at me, our eyes meeting and locking in a way that takes me out at the knees.
Her blue-gray irises are glassy, muddled by the tears she’s fighting back.
“For a long time I’ve wondered—worried—about having to someday tell Otis that his dad doesn’t want him. ”
The pain in her voice is clear as day, would be even if it wasn’t also painted on her face. It’s a pain I can’t erase, caused by someone else. What I can do is try and soothe it. Provide her with a release, a safe space, so she can relax in the knowledge that this is no longer a worry.
“Because how do you tell someone that?” she continues. “How do you tell someone that the person who is supposed to love them unconditionally didn’t want them? That they tried to deny them?”
I flex my hands, digging into her skin slightly, trying to tamp down the fire rising within me. The wrong kind of fire. This isn’t what I want to be feeling when she’s in my arms. Nor is it what I want her to feel while I’m holding her.
At the same time, there’s a part of me that’s thankful that she feels safe enough to say it. To confide in me and show me this side of her.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “And when the time comes that we have to tell him, we’ll figure it out together. That’s not a tonight problem though.”
“No, it’s not.” She pauses, inhaling deeply. “Can I show you something?”
Her abrupt change in subject makes me chuckle—at least internally—but I keep that to myself. Her mind is clearly moving a mile a minute, and I don’t dare stop it.
“Of course.”
Taking my hand, Presley leads me out of the kitchen, through the living room, and down the hallway. I follow willingly, my own brain kicking into high gear with where she could be taking this. Even more so when she slips into her bedroom, closing the door behind us. Not that I’m complaining.
“What—”
Presley whips around, pressing a finger to her lips, silently shushing me. I do as I’m told, squeezing her hand and letting her lead me into her closet. Yes, into her closet.
Teenage Jace wants to make a comment about playing seven minutes in heaven, but I stop myself. I also stop my adult self from commenting that it would be way more than seven minutes.
Presley stops just shy of the door with the large, wide mirror on it, turning to face a built-in bookshelf. Oh, maybe we aren’t headed to the closet. My mistake.
Scanning the shelves, she quickly finds what she’s looking for, pulling a book out from the neatly lined row. She hands it to me, and I take a second to examine it.
My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry
The spine is cracked in multiple places, the edges worn from use, a couple of the pages permanently dog-eared. It’s clear this book is well-loved.
“I don’t have any special, personalized annotations in it for you, but there are a couple of things underlined,” Presley says. “Parts that I really love or found cute and funny.”
“Thank you. But why…”
“You gave me one of your favorites, so I’m giving you mine. It’s been years since I got to read it. Being a single mom doesn’t lend itself to having a lot of downtime, as you’ve witnessed, but I’ve probably read it half a dozen times. It never fails to make me happy.”
Holy shit…
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I feel like Presley just handed me her entire heart on a platter. If I was worried before that my grand gesture might not have landed, I shouldn’t be now.
“So you like Glenna and Cash?” I ask, dying to know what she thought.
“I did. They were fun. And you’re right, he can be a bit of an idiot.”
“I like to think I’m a little better than that.”
“You are. A lot. Forget Super STAR student—if they gave out awards for STAR boyfriend, you would win hands down.”
I throw my head back in a loud guffaw, unable to hold it in. What a perfect line.
“Sorry, that was cheesy.”
“No, Mama, it was perfect.” I step into her, placing the book back on a shelf, so I can haul her into me. My cock thickens with the desire to hold her, play with her, kiss her. Fuck her.
I tighten my hold, making sure she’s pressed against me and can feel my hard-on, weaving my fingers into her hair and kissing her. Hard. Like I need to kiss her in order to survive. Which is exactly how I’m feeling.
Presley whimpers, wrapping her fingers in my shirt and tugging me impossibly closer, kissing me back with everything she has. A move that only makes me want her more. And makes my dick ache with need.
“You have no idea how bad I want you, Mama,” I whisper, kissing along her jaw toward her ear. I nip at the lobe, earning a moan. One that I feel down in my soul. I want her to do it again, and again. I want to make her scream and writhe. I want her to see stars.
“Then have me…”
I stop, rocking back just enough to look at her. “Can we do that? With Little Man in the house?”
Presley bites down on her bottom lip, nodding. “Parents do it all the time. I mean, not me, clearly, but other parents. If they didn’t, there’d be a whole lot of only children in the world.”
She makes a point. As someone who is number five of seven, I should know this.
Then again, no one wants to think about their parents that way.
Auggie and Miss Belle have never shied from PDA or letting it be known that even after forty-plus years of marriage and seven kids, they are still very much in love.
There are even plenty of jokes in the family about “adult naps.” Yet somehow I’ve never let my brain really go there.
“We just have to be quiet about it,” Presley adds.
“Challenge accepted.” I slide my hands down her body, grabbing ahold of her ass and lifting her up. A giggle explodes from her chest, her legs wrapping around my waist. “Although we’ll see just how quiet you can be while my tongue is buried deep in your pussy.”
“Jace…” she moans, grinding against me.
That’s my cue.
I plant my mouth on hers, turning up the heat. Making sure she knows how much I want her. How I could spend the rest of time just like this—kissing her. Walking over to the bed, I continue my efforts, not letting up at all. Even as I lay her down on the duvet.
“I’m going to worship you until you can’t move, Mama. Show you just what you do to me.”
Running my gaze up and down her body, I drink her in for a moment, licking my lips. It would be an understatement to say that I don’t know where to start. There’s so much of her delicious body to adore, and so little time.
Last time I was here, we had the place to ourselves. We could take our time. Tonight we’re on borrowed time. We have to make sure we aren’t caught, only upping the ante.
Not deterred by my indecision, Presley sits up, grabbing her tee by the hem and whipping it off. My mouth waters, the sight of her beautiful breasts in a bra more than enough to push all my buttons.
“Someday I’m going to wear a bra that isn’t old and ratty for you, I promise,” Presley says sheepishly. “I’ll try and find something cute and sexy.”
“Don’t you dare,” I tell her, reaching around her and unclasping the garment in question. “I don’t care what you wear. You’re sexy in everything.”
I roll one of her nipples between my fingers and Presley gasps. So I do it again. And again. Leaning down, I take the other in my mouth, circling it with my tongue. Heat floods through me as Presley moans, shifting under my touch, trying to urge me on.
Message received.
“We’ll see if you think that about my granny panties.”
Oh, talk about challenge accepted.