Chapter 28 Georgie
Georgie
He grips my body with an urgency that makes my head spin, and before I can do a damn thing to stop him, his delicious mouth lowers over mine.
Holy shit! James is kissing me. I, Georgette Elise Davies, am being kissed by James Whatever-His-Middle-Name-Is Harper!
Did I fall and hit my head? Have I died and gone to heaven? This doesn’t happen to a girl like me.
Sure, he’s had his fingers and his mouth in other places, but he’s never kissed me on the mouth before.
And he’s never done anything in the daylight.
This kiss isn’t the result of middle of the night exhaustion breaking down our personal armor.
No, this is a different type of intimacy. It almost feels like he’s claiming me.
In those moments as he gazed down at me before kissing me, I was surprised at the emotions swirling behind his eyes. The left corner of his lips curled up in anticipation, and then his lips pressed against mine.
My hand drifts from my necklace to his toned chest, warmed from the time spent outdoors in the sun, and I open my mouth to him. Heat spreads throughout my body when James caresses his tongue with mine, stroking me in a way that makes my knees buckle and my pulse race.
His large hand presses against the small of my back, holding me to him, as his other hand moves up my cheek and into my hair as he doubles down, kissing me harder. A needy, pathetic little whimper escapes my lips as I sink further into his embrace, losing myself to the feeling of him.
James moves his attention from my lips to my neck, suckling gently in such a way that I feel a jolt of lust burst through my core.
It feels so good to be wanted and desired.
But with that errant thought, good sense prevails. I’ve already fallen for James, and those feelings will only grow if this continues. I can’t just jump into a physical relationship without careful consideration. Not again. Not with so much at stake.
So, I step back, pushing out of his grip. “J—Ja—James!” I stutter. “What’s your middle name?”
A look I can’t decipher crosses his face, and he laughs. “It’s Wyatt.”
I can’t even remember why I wanted to know that.
I just know I needed to say something to get James to stop kissing me because I cannot think when he’s kissing me.
And I need to keep my wits about me. For my sake and Weston’s.
Touching my fingers to my lips, I ask, hesitation creeping into my voice, “What… why did you do that, James?”
“Why did I kiss you?” He runs a hand through his hair. Grabbing me by the upper arms, he closes the space between us again. “I’m tempted to say that I was just practicing kissing you.”
“Practicing,” I repeat in confusion.
“Since we’re about to confirm our marriage to the public, we’ll need to make the PDA look legit…
but that would be a lie.” His hand moves up my shoulder and across my collarbone before settling under my jaw.
With gentle fingers, he tilts my head up to look me in the eye.
“That would be a lie because I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone like I want to kiss you, Georgette. ”
What I wouldn’t sacrifice just to relax and accept his words as truth.
To break free from the chains of my past. To accept his words in blind faith and take them at face value.
To stop dissecting every interaction we share and just believe him.
But life has taught me, time and time again, that when something is too good to be true, it probably is.
That was a lesson I learned the hard way, and I can’t afford to repeat it. This time, it’s not just my life that would be at risk. It’s Weston’s too. So far, thanks to James’ generosity, Weston is being raised in a safe environment. What if I jumped into bed with James and things went south?
I need to be realistic. James is handsome, talented, and has the body of a Greek god. He’s a famous musician who’s played at the largest venues in the world and graced the covers of just about every music magazine around. I’m not exaggerating when I say that he could land any woman he wanted.
And then there’s me. I’m a poor waitress with a baby.
There’s just no way that James is seriously attracted to me.
I’m sure he’s just horny. James may want to kiss me so that it leads to more, but that’s just him desiring a physical sexual release.
He doesn’t want me. I’m just the convenient choice to get his dick wet.
James doesn’t want what I want. I’ve developed feelings—I’ve fallen in love with him—and he just sees me as an easy target.
He’s going to be angry, I’m sure, when I deny him.
Whenever Nolan was in the mood and I wouldn’t spread my legs, he’d act like an ass.
Yell at me and tell me how worthless I was, or give me the silent treatment and ignore me for days until I was practically begging for any morsel of affection he’d toss my way.
Why did I accept that kind of treatment? Probably because I didn’t have anyone else. Sad, but true. I think I was trying to fill the void that my mom left behind, and I thought that being unhappy with Nolan was better than being alone.
But now I’m not alone. I have Weston, and I need to do everything in my power to protect him. If James is unhappy about being left with a hard-on, I’ll placate him as best I can, but I won’t start another romantic or sexual entanglement with someone who doesn’t value me.
Eye on the prize, Georgie. I’m saving money to move out and be independent.
With that in mind, I smile and stammer out an apology to James.
“I’d better get Weston inside. He’ll be waking up soon and ready to eat.
” After scooping up my son, I walk inside and head straight into Weston’s makeshift nursery.
Not just because it’s almost time for his afternoon feeding, but also to get away from James.
Since my purse is still over my shoulder, I dig through it one-handed, while juggling Weston. When my fingers circle around my phone, I pull it out. I’ll scroll through apartment listings while Weston nurses. But then I realize I’ve pulled out my old burner phone, not my new iPhone.
Since I got the job at Deb’s, I stopped turning it on since the only reason I was checking it was in case Sheila contacted me about the job.
Let’s face it, my mom was never going to return James’ voicemail.
Still, curiosity gets the best of me, and I turn it on.
It has only five percent battery life left, but that’s enough charge to power up and display the new text message I have waiting for me. Unfortunately, it isn’t from my mom.
It’s from my ex-boyfriend.
Nolan
Is this story true?
He attached a link to the tabloid article.
Shit, I’d really hoped that had escaped his notice.
My finger hovers over our text thread. Should I just delete it?
Then another idea springs to mind, and I start typing.
Sorry, IDK who you’re trying to reach, but it’s not me, bro. I just got this number last month.
Hopefully, once he thinks he can't reach me, he'll stop trying and move on. But Nolan has never been a fan of making my life easier.
In frustration, I throw the phone across the room. It lands with a dissatisfying, quiet thud on the rug after it ricochets off the side of the bed.
Fuck. My head thumps back against the rocking chair.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and James walks in, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers arranged in a tall water glass.
My wide eyes meet his. Freshly showered, he sets the flowers down on the dresser and comes to kneel beside my chair.
His voice low, he says, “I’m sorry if kissing you was too much.”
He’s… he’s sorry? That was not the reaction I was expecting.
“It’s okay,” I say, keeping my gaze focused on Weston. I don’t think I could look into the depths of James’ endless mahogany eyes without falling apart, and he’s already picked up the pieces of my life one too many times. “I was just caught off-guard.”
“Understandable.”
Jeez, James isn’t loquacious, but can he give me something? Just a little peek into what he’s thinking.
And then he does.
“I want you, Georgie. I want us. But I’m willing to wait until you believe me.”
He stands, and as he turns to leave, he spies my old phone on the floor. Leaning over, he grabs it and flips it over in his hand. He raises an eyebrow in my direction but doesn’t ask me any questions as he sets it atop the dresser and walks out of the nursery.
Even after Weston finishes nursing, I don’t get up from the chair. I rock Weston in my arms, mulling over everything.
My eyes fall upon the flowers James picked for me. I recognize the flowers from his garden—the pink blooms of swamp milkweed, the five-petaled blue forget-me-nots with their brilliant yellow centers, the delicate lavender petals, and tiny clusters of the vibrant white daisies.
I’m confused, but I can’t sit here hiding for the rest of the day. I want to believe him, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough to risk it.
After changing Weston’s diaper, I grab my old phone. With my heart pounding in my chest, I flip it open… and breathe a sigh of relief.
No new messages from Nolan.