Chapter 10
Ten
JAMIE
Ipride myself on keeping my cool. Always. Even faced with fucking MC men who like to swing their guns around, I'm pretty damn chill.
Violet undoes me. I've been worried for days.
As frustrating as it is for her to disappear on me for extended periods of time, I've always managed just fine. V hasn't been ready for commitment for a long time, except I'm starting to question how she feels lately.
She's always made her stance on our relationship very clear, which is fine. Christ, now I sound like a woman.
"It's not fucking fine," I growl, throwing my fork in my kitchen sink. "Where the fuck is she?"
Deep breaths stopped helping yesterday. Rational thought hasn't existed for a while. I have no clue what I was thinking sending her those messages.
I'm a patient man. I swear I am.
So why the hell did I text that shit? I wanted to push and get us moving in the right direction, but I'm afraid I've pushed her away.
Yeah, I'm afraid.
Violet is fragile. She tries to be tough, but, my god her eyes bleed with pain. Even in the throes of passion, I see the internal battle she fights. I feel the way her body softens against me right before she stiffens and pulls away. I'm not the only one afraid—Violet's scared.
She's scared that we're real. I'm not crazy. There's no question in my mind that what we have is real. No matter how many times she tries to distract me with her body, her heart, mind, and soul have my attention too.
Hanging my head, I try to wrangle my thoughts into something helpful. I could go to her apartment, but what if she just needs some space? When is a good time to demand that she talk to me?
Like I've done a thousand times, I glance at my cellphone in hopes it lights up. Then I tap the screen, praying I missed a message or call. Nothing.
My chest tightens, and I feel my throat working as a frustrated shout builds. Unraveling isn't an option, but it seems like I'm coming apart at the seams without my woman.
Knock, knock!
My childish explosion settles and dissipates as I rush to the entryway. I skip the peephole and rip the door open, but I never expected my excitement to turn into heartbreak.
"Sweets..." I whisper, shuffling forward. Her eyes are bloodshot and she's in pajamas. "Are you—"
"Don't ask me if I'm okay," she snaps, but it's weak.
I've never seen her so openly vulnerable or struggling. I feel my knees wobble, wanting to crash to the ground in front of her and beg her to tell me how I can help.
"Because you're not..." I venture a guess, already knowing I'm right.
I'd bet my last penny that she doesn't have any lingerie on tonight, which is saying a lot.
Violet came to me dressed like she wants to cuddle and watch a movie which has never happened before.
Each visit she's ready to seduce—not tonight.
If I thought I was unraveling, what has Violet been going through? I should have gone to her sooner, but maybe this is a good thing? She's showing emotion, and she came to me.
Shifting on her feet, I jolt into action and usher her inside my apartment. What a fucking idiot, I scold myself, annoyed I left her in the hallway for so long.
"Where's your coat?"
Internally, I breathe a sigh of relief when she rolls her eyes at me. I let it slide since she's taking her shoes off and looks like she's going to stay. Stay forever, please.
Violet proceeds to remove her sweatshirt, leaving her in a white crop top that makes my dick perk up. Then she turns around, and I see her red eyes again.
I'm about to beg her to tell me what's wrong when her lips part and she does what I want without me asking. "You've caused a lot of problems for me, Jamie Murphy."
My heart stutters, and my gut roils in retaliation against me because I should never be the one causing problems for my woman. I should say something, but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I watch slightly terrified as Violet slumps onto one of my barstools. "There's so much going on in my head..." she whispers, no longer making eye contact. "There are too many feelings..."
My feet start closing the distance. Her pain is calling to me, and I'm incapable of ignoring the sheer emotion pouring off of her in waves.
Then, fucking hell, she looks up at me, and every muscle in my body coils tight. "I'm sorry I ghosted you, Jamie."
Holy fuck.
My jaw is about to hit the floor, but a tear slips free from her beautiful gray/green eyes, and my trajectory shifts from shock right into kissing that tear away.
Control gone, I snatch Violet from the stool and crush her to my chest. "Violet," I croak, petting her head and breathing in the strawberry shampoo she uses. "Stop crying please. Fuck."
Her shoulders are trembling, and my shirt is damp where her face is buried. I swear my heart swells with the way she clings to me, but also breaks because she's not okay.
It's hard, but I push Violet back so I can look at her face. As soon as our eyes clash, a sob rips from her chest, and I snap.
My right hand grabs her jaw and catches her tears as I slam my lips down on hers. It's not out of passionate need, but sheer desperation to make her stop hurting.
For once, I don't want to talk to her. I'm terrified that if I asked more questions, the more Violet would cry.
It physically fucking hurts me to see her cry.
It's avoidant as fuck, but I want to make my sweet girl feel better.
With Violet's tears on my cheek and my left hand gripping her ass, I caress her tongue with mine.
I hate that I can't tell if her whimpers are because she's sad or because she's horny. Maybe both? Only one way to find out.
With a soft snarl, I back her into my living room and force her down onto the couch. My knees finally give out like they wanted to do as soon as I saw the anguish in her features.
"Jamie." She's trembling still, but her tears have stopped. "I—"
With my eyes locked on her from my kneeling position, I peel her sweatpants off and trail my fingers back up her legs.
Absentmindedly, I notice the prickliness of her legs, and pride blooms in my chest. An odd reaction to leg hair, but I'm fucking thrilled she came to me not dolled up and perfect for once.
She's still perfect, maybe more, because this version is real.
"Fuck." Her thong is pink cotton with little martini glasses printed on the fabric.
Violet's hands move to cover her panties, but I bat them away and glare at her. She shakes her head, and the red of her cheeks makes me grin. "They aren't—"
"Shush. I fucking love you like this."
Violet chokes, and I panic a little on the inside. Did I just say that?
"Ja—"
Laying a stinging slap on the inside of her thigh, I scold her. "Enough. Let me make you feel good."
It's a demand, and one Violet allows. Just to prove my point about her cute underwear, I leave them on and pull them to the side while I begin our night of total pleasure.
No talking. Not tonight. My heart can't take her tears. Unless they are caused by me finding her G-spot, orgasms, and edging.
I'll help her forget, then I'll hold her after. I'm not taking no for an answer tonight. She's staying.