Chapter 41
CHAPTER 41
Jackson treated me like spun glass. I insisted that I was fine, but he catered to my every move. I couldn’t even sneeze, and he was all over me.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, as he plumped pillows around me on the couch.
“You need to be taken care of.”
“Jackson,” I protested. “A couple of weeks ago, you took me up on a plane, and we jumped out of it. We went skydiving.”
He turned around with a look of guilt on his face. “That was the stupidest thing I have ever done.”
“No, my point is that it was fun and I was fine. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
“You had a fall.”
“I don’t even feel like I fell. I’m not even stiff or anything.”
But when it came time for bed, he picked me up and carried me up the stairs. Secretly, I was digging the attention, but seriously? He was going way overboard.
We got ready for bed, and then we lay in bed, side by side. I longed for us to connect. To become man and wife once again. So much had passed between us. It was the final distance between us.
I rolled over on my side to look at his face. “What are you thinking of?”
Green eyes traced over my face. “Just remembering when we went bed shopping.”
“Really?”
“I lay beside you in that store, and I was thinking how tiny you were. It made me wonder what it would be like to spoon someone so little.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You were thinking of cuddling me when we were bed shopping?”
“I was thinking of way more x-rated things.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“Wow.”
“I don’t think I have ever seen anyone blush as much as you did that first morning.”
“I felt so awkward.”
He dropped a kiss on my mouth. “How come?”
“You were all big and intense and intimidating. I had never met anyone like you before.”
“I was seriously messed up when I arrived in New York. I didn’t want to be there, and I certainly didn’t want to be in therapy, but you distracted me.”
I chewed on my lip. “What was therapy like?”
“Bullshit.”
“What was it like?”
“They wanted me to talk about my feelings.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Emotions are messy.”
I stared up at this man. Thinking about how he had destroyed our living room. Yes, emotions were messy. My husband was trying with me. He was trying to show me who he was. He was trying to help me understand.
“I feel everything.”
His smile was wondrous. “I know you do. And you show the whole world how you are feeling.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It’s a brave way to live.”
“I don’t know how else to live.”
“Don’t change. That's one of my favorite things about you.”
“Except when I cry.”
“I don’t mind your tears.” He placed a kiss on my neck. “Your tears are honest.”
My fingers tangled in his hair. I pulled his face down to mine, kissing him.
He tried to pull back. “Emily.”
I stared up at him. Old insecurities flooded my body. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Because I’m pregnant?”
“Everything changed this afternoon.”
“When you saw the ultrasound.”
My hand trailed slowly down his hard abs. His big hand captured mine. I looked up him. “Jackson.”
“What if I hurt you?”
I shook my head and wrestled my hand free of his so I could continue my ministrations. “Not possible.”
He groaned as my hand shyly tightened around his solid member.
“I want to do it the SEAL way,” I whispered.
“Absolutely not,” he ground out. “If we do it at all, tonight I’m going to take my time.”
He rolled over so that he was above me. His kiss was so wondrous. Intoxicating. Soothing. A brush of lips. Teeth nibbled. I swooned .
He was patient. He overwhelmed me with his tenderness and torturous exploration of my body. I felt delicate and pure. I longed for more, yet swam in his perfect and soft touch. It was sublime. I trembled and gasped as a yearning slowly built in my body.
He soothed and staggered me with his gentleness. Goosebumps covered my body as he feasted on my sensitive nipples. Lips trailed slowly down my arms, over my stomach. Soft fingers tickled and stroked up my thighs. Every taste, every caress was a graze, flaming my desire. I felt worshipped as he skimmed and teased me with the softest manipulations. I trembled from need. My hands clenched the bedspread, and yet he never relented. Never let me touch him. His focus was on making me feel like the revered lover. His skills inflamed me with a need that was making me almost delirious.
I tossed my head back and forth. “Jackson, please.”
He moved up, over me, and then he flipped me, so I was lying on top of him. We looked at each other. In his face, I saw tenderness, care and something that looked a lot like love. I thought my heart would burst with hope.
I gasped as he slid slowly, inch by inch into me.
His big hands pushed my hair off my face. “Emily.”
“I love you,” I breathed.
He groaned and then we moved. Slowly, languorously, like we had all the time in the world. I surrendered completely to the moment, loving the intimacy, loving that this big man was part of me. He moved so slow, it felt like sweet torture. I was stunned by the emotions, the sensations that crashed over me. My entire body throbbed. Every cell in my body focused on this moment.
We stared at each other. Holding our gazes. So much passed between us. Things were different now. I could feel it. Something was happening. I was so happy that I thought my heart would burst.
All too soon, that spark became a raging flame that consumed and overtook me. I was arching, and my head was thrown back, moving to find my release. His fingers wove into mine. My orgasm was building, climbing, roaring towards me like a freight train and then there it was. It slammed into me, and I bucked back, crying out, as waves of addictive ecstasy blinded me.
He sat up, wrapped his arms around me, as I clenched over him. His hands were tangled in my hair as his mouth found mine. “You’re so beautiful. Emily. God.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and then he was crushing me to him, his head buried into my neck as he found his own sweet release.
“Jesus, Emily,” he pulled back to look up at me. I saw in him vulnerability. Need. Emotion.
My eyes filled with tears.
We lay there in the best post-coital bliss. I was on my stomach while Jackson slowly traced his fingertips down my spine.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better than perfect.”
His lips kissed my shoulder blade. “Have you given any thought to names for Alien?”
I lifted my head. “Is this where you only think of boy names?”
“We could call him Allen and then secretly call him Alien behind his back. And he'd never know.”
I giggled. “If he ever found out, he'd never forgive us.”
“What is your dad’s name?”
I shook my head. “You really don’t want to go there.”
“What is it?”
“Elmer.”
He laughed. “Elmer Hunter. Yeah. We're just setting him up for a lifetime of harassment with that one.”
“What if Alien is a girl?”
“I thought we decided that a girl would be a bad idea. I don’t have a shotgun big enough for all the boys that'll show up on our doorstep.”
“She'll be tough like you. She’ll be able to handle herself. ”
“What was your mom’s name?”
“Beverly.”
“Hmmmm.”
“What about Melody? We could name her after your mom.”
Jackson’s fingers stopped moving. I raised my head and looked at him. “What?”
He had this look on his face. “How did you know my mom’s name was Melody?”
I froze. “I don’t know. I think maybe you told me?”
He sat up, his voice was cold. “No. I’m pretty sure I have never mentioned that name to you.”
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
“Jackson,” I sat up and looked over at him.
His eyes were wide. He stared at me. A hurt and confused look on his face.
“What the fuck did you do, Emily?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “It was a mistake.”
“Tell me what you did.” The anger in his voice was clear.
Tears threatened to clog my throat. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Tell me.”
“I read your journal. The one that Harry wrote. The one that was hidden in the sweater box.”