Chapter 21
JENSEN
She’s silent as her eyes flutter open, and I wonder if perhaps I overstepped or did too much.
But then she murmurs my name so vehemently and with such endearment that I know I made the right choice. “Jensen.”
Resting my crutches on the wall beside us, I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her into my chest as her eyes hungrily scour the unfinished room.
“I didn’t get everything, obviously, because I knew that you’d want to do that or at least have us do it together. I thought that this was a good start.” I kiss the top of her head, peppering her with love. “Do you like it?”
Her voice is soft. “It’s perfect.”
It wasn’t hard to spiral down the baby-shopping rabbit hole once I started, and when I discovered the ocean-themed rugs and wall decor, I knew it would be perfect.
“We can change literally everything if you want though. As much as I want to be involved and support you, I don’t want to cross the line.”
Her hands wrap around my forearms, and she nestles backward into my embrace. “I don’t want to change a thing.”
My heart explodes, as I know she loves it as much as I do.
“I know that we haven’t talked much about the future and everything coming next, but I want you to know that this house is just as much yours as it is mine.” I press my lips to the top of her head again. “There will always be an empty spot in my bed in the shape of you.”
“And I plan on filling it.” She sniffles and takes a shaky breath. “Carly would’ve loved this.”
An ache—that raw and agonizing pain that lives inside of everyone who’s experienced grief—throbs in my chest. “Yeah.” My voice breaks. “She would’ve.”
Carly loved life, everything and everyone in it. She would have been over the moon to find out Lainey was pregnant and that we were together. If she can somehow look upon us, I hope she sees that we finally found one another again.
The pile of toys, plushies, and books I also ordered sit, piled in the corner. I know she appreciates the gesture, but I didn’t want to take away the memory of decorating or setting up the nursery. I want us to do that together, if she’ll have me.
She stretches her neck side to side, and I shift my hands to her traps, massaging them gently. Relaxing into my touch, she sighs, nearly moaning as I work the tension out of her neck and shoulders.
“Come on. I’ll give you a better massage.” I rub my hands up and down her arms.
She spins around, smiling, happy tears in her eyes. “I’m pretty sure that I’m the one who should be offering that to you.” She glances down at my knee as I tuck my crutches back beneath my arms.
“Yeah, yeah. Shhhh. Let me take care of you,” I insist.
Swallowing hard, she follows me back to our bedroom. A slow, tantalizing tension builds between us like a physical tether, each breath strumming the line.
“I’m going to shower instead actually. Is that okay?” she murmurs behind me as I walk into the bedroom.
“Of course. Want me to order food?” I offer, trying to ignore the images forming in my mind of her in my shower without me.
“That’d be great, honestly. I’m exhausted right now.” She walks over to her suitcases in the corner to get clothes, and she nearly launches the empty luggage by how hard she pulls. Her eyes flash to me, confused.
“I … unpacked everything for you.” I gesture to the big, wide dresser beneath the TV. “Top three drawers.”
Her eyes soften, and her shoulders relax as I sit down on the edge of the bed. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, not realizing how quiet my voice is.
“You’ve done too much for me today.” Rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, she slowly steps toward me, closing the distance torturously slowly. “Thank you.”
“I just wanted to help.” I lean back on my hands as she takes another step, only a foot left.
“I don’t get it …” she murmurs, tucking her hands behind her back.
“What?” I sit up, clasping my hands between my knees, looking up at her.
“First, you open your home to me without hesitating, then you don’t freak out when I tell you I’m pregnant, and finally, you start nesting the next day.
” She chuckles, and I laugh along with her.
“Why? Why deal with all of this when none of it’s your responsibility?
You could’ve told me to stay in a hotel or to move back into my apartment as soon as possible. ”
Stepping forward, she stops between my legs, and my hands fall to the outside of her thighs as she continues, my thumbs stroking the thin material of her scrub joggers. “Why pick me when I come with all of these complications and challenges? You could choose any path you want in life.”
Grabbing her hands, I inch back on the bed and pull her forward. Slowly, she drops one knee outside of my thigh and then the other, straddling my lap. My heart skips a beat.
I slide my hands up her hips, settling on her lower back as I hold her to me intentionally, our mouths mere inches apart, our warm breath dancing together.
“There’s never been any other path for me but you.”
Her shaky inhale echoes in my ears as time slows around us, her body sinking down onto mine, melting in my arms.
Her words are raw and honest. “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” I study her eyes, trying to read the secrets locked in her mind. “Any fear you have is a fear we’ll conquer together. I didn’t choose you, Lainey. It’s only ever been you. Nothing is going to change that. I promise.”
She nods painfully, like she’s trying to force herself to believe my words. “What if something goes wrong between us? What if you change your mind? What if—”
I stretch upward, silencing her doubt with my kiss, pressing my lips to hers. Sliding my hand up her back, I cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss as her mouth moves against mine.
“What if,” I murmur, “everything works out?”
Her eyebrows are squeezed together; her face is contorted in pain as she fights the mental walls in her mind.
This is a bizarre twist in our relationship, where I’m the optimistic one and she’s the pessimistic one.
“What if”—I press my lips to hers again, kissing her tenderly—“this was how we were always supposed to end up?”
Her bottom lip quivers as her hands trail up my chest, wrapping around my neck. “I like that version.”
“Me too,” I whisper against her lips as our gravity seals our confessions with a kiss.
Tender, soft, loving caresses consume us, intensifying with each passing touch. Her hands wander my neck, shoulders, sliding down my chest and fisting my shirt.
“Fuck,” I grunt as her hips grind against me.
Holy shit, Lainey’s grinding on top of me, and I feel like I might be dreaming.
When I roll my hips up into her, she whimpers into my mouth, and I realize how hard it’s going to be to last longer than five seconds with her.
I’m letting her lead the show. As much as I don’t want to hold back and show her just how badly I’ve wanted her, I’m scared to trigger her like I did last time, especially when I don’t know what to not do.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I murmur between kisses and short gasps for air.
Her grasp tightens, holding on to my shirt tightly as her hips and sweet center continue to slide against my growing erection, one she certainly feels, clenching down harder around it.
“You’re so big,” she whispers, her voice raspy and sexy as hell, making my dick twitch and blood rush through my body.
“Fuck,” I whimper into her mouth helplessly. “I can’t wait to feel you, baby.”
She pauses for a second, almost indiscernibly, but I still catch it.
“There’s no rush for anything tonight, Lain,” I assure her, pulling back enough to try to read her face.
Her lips are parted, breath ragged and needy. “I-I want to.”
Even though she says that, I want to make damn sure that she knows she never has to do anything she doesn’t vehemently desire. “Seriously, there is no pressure with me—ever,” I reiterate.
She nods slowly. “I know. But I want to. I really want to.”
Her eyes drift closed, and I slowly cup her cheek. “Then I’m going to need you to keep those eyes open. I want you to watch every single second of us together.”
She wets her bottom lip and bites down. Her pupils are shot with desire, her chest flushed, but there’s still a tension I can feel in her body, a rigidness and hesitancy that I don’t quite understand.
I don’t know who or what put this trauma into her body when it comes to sex, but I know that I never want her to experience it with me. An idea pops into my mind.
“Do you trust me?” I ask her, looking up into her pretty blue eyes.
She nods. “Yes.”
“Do me a favor.” I sit up taller and she leans back in my lap to hold my stare, nodding. “Can you grab sports tape from my bathroom downstairs?”
“Like sports tape we use at the arena?” she asks, her brows furrowed.
“Yeah.”
She studies me curiously. “I don’t want you to tie me up …” Her voice trails off.
I brush the soft skin of her cheek. “It’s not for you. It’s for me. Your rules. Your pace. Your control.”