Chapter 17 Jamie
JAMIE
When it’s real, foreplay starts with energy, not touch.
—Text from Jamie to Ashton
Carefully, I lay Kyrie in her crib and watch the way this little girl immediately scoots up into her favorite position. Knees tucked under her body. Cheek flat against the cherry blossom sheets. Her ruffle-covered bottom sticking up. She looks like a sleeping doll.
A little freckle-faced, pudgy-cheeked perfect doll.
And standing here, watching her sleep . . . Man, it makes my heart beat funny inside my chest.
As I step away, the delicious scent of cherries and vanilla fills my lungs, and fuck, if that doesn’t make me smile as I turn around.
There she is. The woman haunting my every waking thought and starring in my filthiest fucking fantasies. Standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself, clinging to a chunky red sweater hanging off one delicate shoulder, while short pink-ruffled shorts barely cover her perfect ass.
Such a pretty package.
One my hands crave to touch. To taste. To memorize. To fucking worship.
Walking away the last time was hard.
Walking away before was the dumbest thing I could have done.
But now . . . Now that I know the taste of her lips, the feel of her beneath me. Around me. I want more. I want everything. I want to take it. I want to give it.
To her.
Now . . .
“Hey.” Her voice sounds like it’s been raked over hot coals for hours. Like she hasn’t slept in days. It’s rough and raw and sexy, and so damn hesitant.
She watches me with undeniable hunger in her gold-flecked eyes as I close the distance between us. “Did you have a good morning, charmer?”
“Charmer? Really?” I cock a brow, grinning as I grab the baby monitor. “We’re sticking with that one?”
She lifts a delicate shoulder and purses her pouty lips. “It’s fitting.”
“If you say so,” I whisper, not wanting to wake the sleeping baby. Quietly, I take Ashton’s hand in mine and squeeze, guiding her down the hall. “Yeah, we had a good morning.”
I bypass her room and head for mine instead, wanting more distance between us and Kyrie, but come up short as I stop at the door. “I’ve never had a woman in here before,” I murmur as she moves in front of me, taking it all in.
Her eyes roam everywhere. The white linen curtains, the gray goose-down comforter, the big bed. None of its overly done up. I went with comfort in here more than anything else, unlike the rest of the house.
Ashton drops my hand and skims the tips of her fingers along the soft blanket lying on the foot of the bed, then over the top of the dresser as she walks over to the French doors and gently pushes them open.
She steps onto the balcony. Her eyes close, and her dark hair catches on the cool spring breeze picking up over the lake as the storm rolls closer.
She stands there like she’s soaking it in.
She’s beautiful.
She’s everything.
“Wow, Jamie.” My name on her lips is like a shot of adrenaline right to my veins.
“This is stunning.” She spins to face me, and I wish I could take a picture of her right now.
Just like this. Standing in front of the curtains as they billow in the breeze, the angry sky booming behind her.
Strong and powerful. Like she is the fucking storm.
I shrug, trying hard not to lose my shit over her very existence inside this room.
Being this close to everything I’ve always wanted.
Forcing myself to fight every instinct I have demanding I pull her into my arms right now and never let go.
To prove to her I’m no longer that seventeen-year-old clueless kid anymore.
Instead, I plant my feet and cross my arms and watch what looks like peace seep into her soul. She seems more relaxed now than she has since she woke up in that hotel. Shaking that thought away, I grin. “Were you able to sleep in earlier?”
“A little. Thank you for that.” She glances over her shoulder at the clouds rolling in. “Where did you go?”
“Kyrie and I stopped by my parents’ house for a cup of coffee and some peach puffies. Have you tasted those things? They’re not bad.”
She drags her teeth over her lip, fighting a grin. “Why were you eating Kyrie’s snacks, Jamie?”
“I wanted to know what they taste like.” I grin, and close the door. “She loves them. So I figured why not?”
“Got it. Peach puffs and coffee. And then . . . ?” She takes one small step toward me. Just one, but the energy in the room shifts like the storm.
“No coffee for her. Just me,” I joke and force myself to stay put. She needs to come to me. I know this woman, and this move needs to be hers. “After that, we hit up The Busy Bee, where we met Jonah—”
“Who’s Jonah?” she asks, still too far away.
“My little brother,” I tell her as I shove my hands in my pockets, fighting the overwhelming urge to touch her, but thoroughly enjoying the way her eyes threaten to gut me if I don’t explain.
Manifesting violence like always.
Why is that sexy?
Ashton licks her lips and takes another step, bringing her closer but not close enough. Not as close as I want. Not yet.
A frenetic energy bounces between us like the charged air outside, wild and dangerous. The kind you know brings destruction in its wake.
“I know your little brother.” Her beautiful head tilts, and her hair spills over her bare shoulder, like she’s contemplating something I’m not privy to yet.
But my time is coming. “And his name is Finnegan Murphy, not Jonah . . . What is Jonah’s last name?
” She shakes her head. “Never mind. Unless your mom has been hiding a baby like mine did, you’re going to have to do a little better than that. ”
So fucking sassy.
So fucking hot.
“I volunteer for Big Brothers & Big Sisters.” I try really damn hard to hold myself still. To not reach for her. Not touch her. But she’s right here—in my space. In my room. Like the other end of a magnet demanding we touch.
I give myself one step.
One small step toward her, but that’s all I need for Ashton to be within reach. And just like that damn magnet, I reach for her. Because I can’t not.
With more restraint than I knew I was capable of, I wrap a single lock of silky, dark hair around my finger, and damn .
. . I’m rewarded with the sweetest sigh slipping past her lips.
“Jonah’s been my little brother for close to two years now.
He’s been bugging me to meet Kyrie, so I took them to breakfast. Our girl loved all the attention. ”
“Our girl,” she murmurs, her eyes widening as she reaches up with a shaking hand and runs the backs of her fingers over my cheek. “I like the sound of that, Jamie, but you look like you’re not sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure, beautiful. Just trying to figure something out,” I admit, losing the damn battle and gathering her hair in my hand at the back of her head, forcing her face up to mine.
“What?” She demands, softly.
“Just trying to figure out if I ever stopped thinking of you as mine.”
Fuck. That’s a lie. She’s always been mine.
“That’s funny because I’m trying to decide when exactly I started to like the thought of being yours.
” Her teasing tone is soft as her fingertips dance along my jaw.
“I’ve never been anyone’s before, Jamie.
I’ve been alone for a long time, and I was okay with that.
Until you. Until I moved into your house.
Until you became part of the rhythm of my life. ”
Ashton presses her soft lips to my skin, gently kissing my jaw.
Jesus, it’s like she’s lit a match that’s going to blaze through the storm, and my entire body burns as the flame fights for dominance.
“Maybe it was the first time I realized I liked the way you teased me in the morning.” She replaces her fingers with her lips on my jaw.
“Or the first time you made me a cup of coffee with fat free caramel creamer in it because you knew that’s how I drank it. ”
“Ashton,” I groan and tighten my hold, unable and unwilling to hide the need heavy in my voice.
“There was the first time you held Kyrie . . .” She sighs, and I pull her closer, on edge. “God knows it was there the night we spent snowed in, in the stupid hotel in Chicago.”
“It’s always been there, Ace.” I tilt her chin up and get lost in those big eyes. “You just had to let yourself see it.”
Ashton presses up onto the tips of her toes and brushes her lips over mine.
Barely a whisper of a touch. But from this woman, she might as well have hit me over the damn head with the force.
“I see it now, Jamie.” She wraps her arms around my neck and clings to me like a lifeline.
“I see you. But I need you to promise me something.”
“Name it,” I breathe out, fucking vibrating in my own skin. A whole new level of strength I hadn’t realized I had holding me back. Waiting for her.
This needs to be on her time and her terms.
She stares into my eyes for a long beat.
Pleading wordlessly. And even if I know what’s coming, I stay silent and wait, giving her whatever time she needs.
“Don’t walk away again . . . I can’t lose another person.
I can’t . . .” Her eyes close for a moment, but damn when they open, it’s there.
It’s all there. Everything I wanted to see.
It’s staring back at me. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”
Slowly . . . So fucking slowly, I slide my hands down to her waist and drag her closer, needing her to believe me. To trust me. To feel my words. “Never again, Ashton.”
“Promise?”
“Never again. You and me. We’re endgame, Ace.”
Her lips tip up in the sweetest smile as she laughs. “I still don’t know football, Jamie.”
I erase any space left between us, and Ashton gasps a nearly silent sound against my mouth.
One gasp.
One sound.
That’s all it takes.
The flame fighting for its life in the storm explodes into a wildfire, and any semblance of control I had is incinerated with it. I swallow her moan, my tongue sliding against hers. Testing. Teasing. Learning. Remembering.
Taking my time this time.