CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Jamie – Now
Avi and I are dating.
And it’s exhilarating.
Since my schedule’s flexible compared to hers, we fit our dates in whenever she doesn’t have to work… which hasn’t been often. She still feels guilty for the amount of time she’s taken away from the kitchen since she arrived, even if no one else is holding it against her.
If she can escape for a morning hike, we do that and talk about her pregnancy and those early years with Nox.
If she has the afternoon off, we grab the ferry and go to lunch at The Bakehouse like we did when we were teenagers—then we kiss on the top deck like we still are.
If she only gets a short break, we sit on the swing under the sunshine and I tell her about college, about my parents and how excited they are—now that they’ve gotten over the shock—to meet Nox.
We eat dinner with Gran and Grandad each night—or I do.
And on nights when Avi can join us, they watch us, sitting close on our side of the booth, with stars in their eyes.
The almost two weeks since our first date have been a blur of writing for me, cooking for Avi, and stolen kisses for us both.
After eleven years of not kissing her, of telling myself I never would again, of filling my life with women and kisses that didn’t compare in the slightest, I want to get lost in the feel of her skin and the taste of her lips.
Tonight is her first full night off since Soul Mio and she’s cooking me dinner—not from the T this woman who has, by some miracle, only ever been mine.
“I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve to be your only, but I’m sure as hell going to try to be worthy of it.” Her eyes fill with tears and I watch one fall, knowing dinner is going to have to wait.
I wrap my arms around her torso and stand, bringing her with me until she circles her long, strong legs around my waist. I groan at the way it settles her right where I want her, right where I’ve dreamt of being for so long.
I remember where the bedroom is from our tour, which is good because with the first step in that direction, Avi seals her mouth over mine in a kiss that would make even the strongest man weak in the knees.
“M’eudail, if you kiss me like that, I won’t make it to the bedroom,” I husk between shaky breaths.
She nips at my bottom lip and I growl at the intense shock of pleasure that shoots down my spine.
Thank god this cottage isn’t very big. The hallway that splits off toward the two bedrooms is short and I’m through the doorway and laying her onto the bed, hovering over her, before she can unman me any further.
The room is dark, only the light of the moon shining in through the window, and that won’t do.
I need to see her for this. So I can appreciate her. Worship her. Love her.
She whimpers when I pull back and stand, walking over to flip on the bedside lamp and then the other, basking the room in a soft glow.
“W-we don’t need the lights. We can just—”
I stop her with a finger on her lips, leaning over her where she’s propped on her elbows. “I want to see you.”
She tucks her chin, eyes fluttering closed, and turns her face away from me.
“Avi?” I question, guiding my finger under her chin to bring her face back to me, but her eyes are still pointed away.
“I-I had a baby, Jamie,” she says in a shy whisper that trips on my name.
My lip tips up in a smirk. “Yes, I’m aware. It may be a new fact for me, but I haven’t forgotten.”
She pushes lightly at my chest, forcing me away. In that space she slides herself up the bed, bringing her knees with her and wrapping her arms around them.
“Don’t be cute,” she says, and it only makes me smile wider as I crawl up the bed to kneel before her.
“Look, the last time you saw me I was… I was seventeen and ran for fun and hadn’t had a baby.
I don’t—” She blows her breath out and a silver tear drips down her cheek, instantly wiping the grin off my face.
“I don’t have the same body I did then, but you…
you look like a freaking supermodel under that button-down and I just don’t—I don’t want you to be disappointed. ”
Disappointed?
She said she hasn’t been with anyone else, so I know it wasn’t some asshole who put that thought in her head, but nonetheless it’s there and I sure as hell won’t stand for it.
I banish the tear with a tender swipe of my thumb, and the way she leans into it tells me she’s here, even if she’s self-conscious.
“Avi, tha thu bòidheach,” I say, dusting off my Gaelic and hoping I got it right.
Her lip tips up just slightly, so I must have, but I repeat it in English just to drive the point home.
“You are beautiful. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my life.
God, I can’t take my eyes off of you when you’re around.
And I can’t keep from picturing you when you aren’t.
There isn’t a curve, or scar, or mark on your body that could change that. ”
I run my free hand up her ankle, over her calf until I reach her thigh, letting my long fingers span the space from her outer thigh to her inner thigh.
Her breath catches when I slip my hand a few inches higher and she straightens her legs so I’m now straddling them on the bed, my thumb impossibly close to the apex of her thighs.
My other hand skims down to her waist, rucking up the fabric of her shirt just an inch so she can feel the heat of my palm against her skin.
“Can I show you?” I slip my hand an inch higher and she tenses just the slightest amount beneath my fingers. “Can I show you how beautiful you are? Will you let me see you?” I lean forward and press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, watching her eyelids flutter closed in surrender.
“Y-yes,” she stammers. It’s so quiet I barely hear it, and her eyes are shut tight.
“Look at me, mo leannan. I want you to see how badly I want you, exactly like this.”
Her eyes meet mine, the lights making the gold flecks in them shine, and she nods. I offer her one in return, and then with the reverence she deserves, I slowly bring both hands to the hem of her shirt and begin to slide it up her torso.
It’s agonizingly slow, but I won’t rush this. Not with her. Not ever.
As the shirt coasts up past her rib cage, I can see the silvery lines that show the miracle of what she did.
Carrying our son—fuck, that thought hits me like a freight train.
I gently kiss each one, letting my lips linger over them.
The badges of honor she carries for what she did.
I sit back up and pull the shirt over her head, take in the quick rise and fall of her chest, the soft white of her bra against her skin, the softness of every inch of her that I can see.
It’s not enough. I need more.
She’s never been with a man who could make her feel every bit as gorgeous as she is.
The seventeen-year-old version of me did my best with all my own nerves and insecurities, but I didn’t know what a woman needed then.
Now though… The man I am now plans to worship this woman’s body so she never feels the need to hide it from me again.