Chapter 47 #2
“You still hate small talk. Your eyes find the nearest exit or clock whenever someone corners you at city hall, the park, or any event. You count the seconds, but you don’t walk away.
Hell, I respect the way you stay in the conversation just long enough to make the other person feel heard before you slip out. ”
Her eyebrows draw together. “How could you know that?”
I’ve watched her from a distance for so long, I know every damn thing about her.
“You once told me that being called beautiful made your skin itch,” I say. “But I remember the first time I said it and you didn’t flinch.”
“We should test this theory.”
I lean forward and rest both hands on her thighs. “Jade Fox?”
She leans closer to me. “Yes.”
I lick my lips, resisting the urge to kiss her. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” She smiles at my words. “The kind of beautiful that makes me forget everything else, but also in a way that goes deeper than skin.”
We stare at one another for a long beat.
“See?” I touch her now with a chuckle. “No flinch.”
I watch something shift in her eyes. “You don’t laugh often anymore.”
She’s not asking. She’s telling me. And for a second, I don’t even know how to respond. Her eyes search mine, like she’s trying to peel away my layers.
“You used to laugh.” She says it as a memory, a distant truth. “All the time. You were an obnoxious jock. Loud and always cracking a joke.”
I nod, remembering that kid. The one who didn’t take anything seriously, who was always the life of the party, always the loud one.
“That feels like someone else now, someone I don’t even recognize.”
Her palm finds my jaw. “All these years, I convinced myself you only growled when I was around.” Her fingers graze my stubble. “But I suspect over the years you stopped laughing altogether.”
Her words hit me harder than I want to admit.
She’s right. I did stop.
I lost everything that night, the night I won’t tell her about it. I lost her and my ability to trust. Fear stomped down on my recklessness, and after that, my entire world crumbled.
My scholarship.
My future.
Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I wanted to laugh.
Silence stretches out between us, and I hate it. I also hate that I’m vulnerable and open, talking about things I haven’t said out loud in years—if ever.
“I reckon I grew up.” My words are flat and hollow.
Her eyes are unblinking, and I know she sees through the bullshit. “Is that what you really believe?”
“It didn’t seem as easy to laugh after you, and the football dreams I left in the dirt. It was easier to push people away. My folks. My brothers. You. It was easier to hide in an office than try to laugh.”
Her fingers move over my whiskers, and the sadness in her eyes cuts through me like a knife. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I can see the understanding there, like she knows exactly what I mean.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” Her voice is a whisper, and my heart tightens in my chest.
I lean in and kiss her—softly and gently—like it’s the only way I know how to make the sadness go away.
“Don’t be sorry,” I murmur against her lips.
I pull back just enough to look at her, to feel the warmth of her skin under mine.
“I didn’t know how to find my way back, you know?” I cup her face. “I got stuck. And laughing—hell, even smiling—felt like something I couldn’t do anymore.”
“I didn’t laugh much, even before everything went down with us.” She says it like I don’t remember.
Like I didn’t spend a ridiculous amount of hours trying to make her laugh, only to realize it was never the big gestures that drew out a smile or laugh. It was the thoughtful ones.
“I remember. It took a lot to even get a smile from you.”
She smiles now.
“That was almost too easy.” I dip down and kiss her lower lip, but I stop it there, and lift my gaze back to her, because I sense she has more to say.
“After you left, I started to squirrel away—more than usual. I built walls around myself. I didn’t want anyone getting too close to me. I couldn’t risk it. So I pushed people away. My sisters and my parents. Even guys. I promised myself that no one was hurting me again.”
Her words stab me in the chest.
I did that to her.
I took away her trust.
Me.
Fucking me.
“But in that dark, intimidating place, I found my voice.” Her tone softens, as if trying to ease the weight of my regret. “I discovered my strength, my power, and chose not to back down, even when people didn’t like my opinions or ideas.”
Her words sink in. I’m so damn proud of her. More than words can express. And yet, part of me can’t shake the thought that helping her grow doesn’t erase the hurt I caused.
I swallow hard, the guilt churning inside me. I wish I could take it all back. The years of silence, the hurt we both carried.
“I broke you.” The words leave my mouth without thinking. “I really broke you.” I feel my heart sink in my chest. “I didn’t mean to, Jade, but I did.”
Her gaze softens. “No. You didn’t break me. We were kids. Everything was against us. Our families. The whole town.”
It’s hard not to hate every last one of them.
“I don’t blame you for what happened.” Her fingers squeeze the sides of my face. “But more importantly, you have to stop blaming yourself.” Her voice is steady and strong. “We didn’t know what we were doing, and the way things ended, it wasn’t our fault.”
I close my eyes, letting the truth of her words soothe me. She’s not angry at me anymore. She’s not holding onto the pain. She understands. But somehow, that makes it hurt even more.
“Hey.” She waits for me to open my eyes. “We’re not regretting our past mistakes every time one comes and bites us in the ass, right?” She throws my words back at me.
How irritating.
How Jade.
I inhale deeply. “Right.”
“That wasn’t very convincing.”
I realize, for the first time in years, that maybe I can let go of the guilt that’s been eating at me for so long.
“I’m trying.” I kiss her, slowly, deeply, forgetting the cake.
She breaks the kiss this time. “Your turn.”
Her robe falls off her shoulders as she stands, pooling on the floor by her feet.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
Every inch of her. It would be so simple to lean forward and catch her breast in my mouth and clutch her bare ass with my hand. But I’m lost in her sultry smile and stay seated as she straddles my lap.
I almost lose it: the heat, pressure, and nothing between us but the barrier of my robe.
I grip her hips, but she rolls her body against mine, and I swear I see stars.
“Jade,” I groan, dragging in a sharp breath. “You’re killing me.”
“Oh, that’s adorable.” She picks up my slice of cake with her fingers.
I lean my head back. “Don’t you get a speck of frosting on my robe.”
“It would be easier if you just took it off.”
I open my mouth and the chocolate melts on my tongue. But it’s hard to enjoy it when her subtle grind sends a jolt of desire through my body, stirring my dick, trapped beneath the fabric of my robe.
“Jade,” I moan, the pleasure a mix of physical sensation and the sweetness of the cake.
She kisses me, her lips tracing the frosting on my mouth, her tongue darting out to lick it clean.
My fingers slide up her sides, but when my fingertips find the bottom of her full breasts, she leans back.
My hands freeze.
“Just cake,” she says, giving me another mouthful.
Her fingers brush my tongue as I take the next bite. I don’t resist licking the frosting from her skin and sucking her fingertip gently into my mouth.
Her hips start to roll again. The next slice is messier, as her finger smears frosting across my lips.
I chuckle. “You’re impossible.” I lick it away, my eyes never leaving hers.
She grinds against me, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “Impossible? Or inevitable?”
I catch her lips again with mine. Her lips taste of sugar and desire. Fuck, she tastes so damn delicious. Her hips move against the roughness of my robe, and the chair creaks beneath us. We’re likely going to break the damn thing.
My hands are everywhere. Roaming her back, her waist, down over the curve of her hips, clutching her tighter, and pulling her into me because I can’t get close enough.
“I told you,” I growl. “You taste so much better than that fucking cake.”
She grinds down with more pressure, and my whole body jerks. My head falls back, and a curse slips out before I bite it back.
Her hair brushes my jaw, her breath hot on my neck, and I’m hanging on by a thread.
I feel every inch of her. Every roll of her hips drags another groan out of me, gravelly and guttural. My robe loosens with each movement, heat surging between us, and I bury my face in her shoulder, teeth catching her skin.
“Don’t stop.” Her voice is shaky and wrecked.
Like I could.
My hands slide up her bare back, fingers tangling in her hair as I kiss her again, harder this time, grinding into her, meeting every slow, perfect roll of her body without penetration.
It’s torture.
It’s heaven.
Another grind, and I squeeze my eyes shut, because one more move like that and I’ll lose it right here in the kitchen chair.
A ragged sound rips from my throat, half a groan, half a plea. “If we don’t stop—” I press my forehead to hers, panting, fighting to hold on to a shred of control. “I’m not gonna make it.”
She brushes her lips over mine, teasing, like she doesn’t care, like she wants me to break.
“The condoms are in the guesthouse.”
She grinds.
That’s it.
“Shit.” I stand, lifting her with me, her legs wrapping tight around my waist.
She gasps, arms locking around my neck as I turn toward the hall.
“Guesthouse,” I rasp, my mouth brushing her ear. “Now.”
“Don’t forget the clipboard,” she says.
And her fucking robe.