Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Asia
I let him hold me in a way no one ever had.
Didn’t try to hide what I never wanted anyone else to see.
Just stayed there in Jack’s arms, my tears wetting his shirt, his hand at the nape of my neck.
Not stroking, just resting there, calm, soothing.
Present.
He was here.
Jack was here.
And that was enough.
I had no idea how long we stayed on the floor, long enough that his shirt dried and my head pounded.
Long enough that embarrassment tried to sink in.
I refused to let it.
Instead I met his eyes, letting him see the dried tears on my cheeks, eyes that I knew were puffy, pain so deep I couldn’t hide it. Hope too. The worst thing of all.
He saw it all, taking it in. Stood and then pulled me up from the floor with him.
He led me over to the bed and pushed me down. Undressed me.
I teared up again, shocked I still had any left to fall.
I did and I let the tear roll down my cheek as Jack unbuttoned the pale blue pinstriped men’s shirt I sometimes wore. He peeled it off my shoulders and left me bare.
Another tear fell as I watched Jack line my boots up with the edge of the bed and then neatly fold my pants and that stupid shirt and carefully stack them on top.
He undressed then and walked towards me. He pulled me off the bed and pulled the covers back.
It was Jack who made the bed. He did it every morning.
I thought it was stupid, snapped at him once for wasting time making the bed when there were endless chores.
If anything, he took even more time with it, those perfectly mitered corners at a crisp forty-five degree angle that was sharp enough to cut skin.
He lay me down and then crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around me.
The bed was too small, his body was too hot, and I was too wiped out to care. I let myself relax in his embrace, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Jack was still behind me when I woke up, his even breaths, the warmth of his skin against mine enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth I never wanted to leave. I turned to lie flat on my back. Jack stayed on his side, staring down at me.
I grazed his stubble-roughened jaw, rubbing my thumb against his cheek. Jack grabbed my wrist and then turned his head and pressed a soft kiss against my palm.
I shifted until I was under him, my eyes still on his.
The moment stretched, seconds ticking by. I stretched up and pressed my lips against his chin, his bottom lip, his top lip.
Pressed my forehead against his before pulling back an increment.
“Make love to me, Jack. Please.”
It occurred to me that I’d just asked something of him. Maybe the first thing I had since he’d come back.
“Always,” he whispered in response before he molded his lips against mine and kissed me.
He shifted to rest on his forearms as I wrapped my legs around his hips, roaming his back with my hands, my eyes glued to his.
He stayed still as he stared down at me, and then reached up to caress my cheek.
His expression was a mix of emotions and I knew he saw the same on mine.
And it didn’t matter.
Because he was here. I was here, and at that moment, it was enough.
He entered me slowly. So slow I felt every vein, every ridge, that stretching fullness I could never get enough of. Felt complete, something I’d only ever been with him. At that thought, I hitched in a breath and Jack pressed his forehead against mine this time.
We stayed that way for a long moment, quiet, in synch.
Together.
His eyes said the same, his hand on my face, his thumb stroking my cheek.
Then he moved.
Not fast, not slow but in a rhythm that was ours, his deep strokes dismantling me. Each telling me the same thing.
I’m here.
The tear came without warning. Slid from the corner of my eye down my temple and into my hair. I couldn’t stop it. Didn’t try.
Jack traced the tear’s path, wiping it away and leaving his warmth in its wake.
And kept moving inside me.
Another fell.
He caught that one too.
Caught the others that came after.
And I didn’t even care. Didn’t feel the shame that I wore like a shroud.
Because he was here.
I stretched up to kiss his lips.
“Asia,” he whispered, his breath leaving his mouth and entering mine.
I clenched around him and he groaned, the sound vibrating through both of us. He thrust deeper, moved faster, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge, pulling me closer to him.
My eyes were open when I came, my vision filled with Jack just as my body was.
“Jack,” I whispered, my voice a mirror of his.
That broke him.
He came on a long, low moan, then pressed his lips against mine.
We stayed still, just me and Jack, like this finally.
Together.
He held me close, his lips against the shell of my ear. His deep voice from his chest spoke into my back. “You asked me something once.”
Somebody in this voice was almost hesitant.
Not Jack.
“You asked me why I came back.”
I nodded, not wanting to speak.
His eyes were on mine. “You know why.”
I said nothing. There was an ever so subtle increase in the thud of Jack’s heart.
His tone changed. “You know why,” he repeated.
My tongue refused to move. And even if it had, I wouldn’t have let it.
“I was out there on the road by myself. Evan gone. You gone. It never used to bother me before. being alone. But those days in that hell…” He trailed off, then turned me so that I was facing him.
“You know why,” he whispered.
Before I could speak, he kissed me.