19. Chapter 19 #2
She tips up on her toes, and her lips meet mine again.
I lean into her and drag my hands down her body until I’m at her thighs.
Then I part her legs as I pick her up, carrying her to the edge of the bed.
Her breath catches, and I try to memorize the sound.
In fact, I try to memorize it all. The way her mouth parts when I bite her lower lip, the way her fingers drag over my shoulders leaving marks. I want it all—forever.
I drop her onto the bed and plant my hands on either side of her. Her hand comes up to my jaw and for a second, we just take each other in. A redo of the library, only this time, I’m not letting her go.
“Tell me what you want, Tiff.”
“You,” she breathes out with no hesitation. “I want you.”
She reaches up, leaving me with one more chaste kiss before she pushes the strap of her dress off her left shoulder. I can’t help myself, I bend down and kiss the smooth skin there.
Her breath tickles my neck as she leans into the touch, and I kiss her on the mouth one more time before moving to her other shoulder. I take my time, letting the taste of her skin linger on my lips, hoping she knows how much this means to me.
This is it. This is all I want.
Her.
Forever.
She arches her back as I drag my mouth across her collarbone, enjoying every little breathy moan I can draw out of her. Then I raise my hands up her ribs, letting my thumbs brush against the swell of her breasts before I reach around the back of her dress to find the zipper.
My hand rests there for a second, giving her the option to push me away. She doesn’t, and in fact, she wiggles in protest, and a soft little moan escapes her lips.
I drag the zipper down, letting the dress fall to her waist, only to reveal the red lace bra underneath.
“Tiff.” It’s all I can get out because my brain goes blank as I take her in.
“Jamie, please—”
I sink onto my haunches and slide my palms up her ribs until I’m cupping her breasts through the fabric. Then I lean in and drag my tongue over one peaked nipple, wetting the fabric until it clings to her skin. She jolts, and lets out a sharp gasp as her fingers fist in my hair, yanking me closer.
I take my fucking time.
Long, deliberate licks. Slow circles. I suck the stiff peak through the lace until it’s soaked and she’s whimpering. I learn her—every hitch of breath, every arch of her spine, every time her thighs clench around my ribs. I want to map every sound she makes when she feels good.
When I finally close my teeth around her, she cries my name and locks my head against her chest while her hips grind up in helpless little pulses.
Not moving from her body, I peel the dress the rest of the way off, flinging it somewhere across the room.
Her hand immediately drifts across her stomach, and she turns away.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, lifting up so I can look her in the eyes.
She doesn’t meet mine. Instead, she turns away. “Can we turn the lights off?”
“Why?”
Her cheeks flush. “I just—I haven’t been able to take care of myself the way I’d like to after having Ella.”
Does she think I won’t want her?
That this body—the one that carried our daughter, and grew life—is anything less than fucking perfect?
I rest my hand on hers before gently pushing it away, keeping eye contact with her the entire time.
Then I move down and kiss her stomach.
Every inch.
Every faint line. Every place she’s trying to hide.
Open-mouthed and reverent. I drag my tongue along the lower curve, tasting her warm skin, and murmur against her, “I love this body. It gave me the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.
I’m only sorry I wasn’t there to see the changes.
To feel the first kicks, to help you through the birth—everything.
I’m sorry I missed it all, Tiff. But I’m here now. ”
My mouth drifts lower. I kiss the scalloped edge of her panties, then trace the line with the flat of my tongue. She makes a broken little yelp as her thighs collapse against me.
Just as I hook my fingers under the lace to drag it down, her hands fist in my hair and tug me back up.
“Not—not that,” she breathes, her cheeks flushed, her pupils blown. “Not tonight. I’m… I’m not ready for that.”
“Okay.” No hesitation. No pressure. Just a low, rough promise. “Then we do whatever feels good to you.”
I guide her higher on the bed, settle between her thighs with only the thin barrier of her soaked lace and the damp towel still knotted at my hips. Her soft, shaky breathing is the only sound that fills the room, a noise I could listen to on repeat forever.
I drop my mouth to the sensitive spot beneath her ear, sucking lightly while my hands roam possessively over her ribs, her waist, her hips.
Her fingers find the knot of the towel, and with one hesitant tug, she pulls it away.
My cock springs free, thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip.
She looks down between us, her eyes widening and her lips parting on a stunned little laugh.
“Yeah… that’s not going to fit.”
I brush my nose against hers and kiss the tip until she smiles.
“It fit before,” I murmur as my lips graze her jaw. “But we don’t have to do that. We can just keep kissing if that’s what you want?”
I kiss her collarbone, but she pushes me back just enough for our eyes to meet.
“I want to keep going,” she whispers. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the bedside drawer, pulling out an unopened box of condoms.
Unopened.
The relief that washes over me over the fact it’s still sealed is fucking ridiculous. The girl hasn’t been on a date since this evening, and spends all her time with our daughter, so she obviously hasn’t been sleeping around. Not that I can talk about exclusivity considering my history.
“I’m also on the pill,” she says.
“Okay.” Not wanting to take any chances, I open the box, pull out a condom, and rip open the packet. She watches me roll the latex down my length, her eyes wide, her lips parted, and her breathing shallow. I won’t deny the way she looks at me makes my dick harder than before.
She hooks her thumbs into the lace at her hips and slides her panties down her thighs, kicking them off.
I lower myself, kissing her slowly, our tongues sliding against each other in a lazy rhythm.
I settle my cock along her slit, not pushing in yet—just gliding. Up. Down. Coating myself in her slick heat until every slow drag makes us both groan.
When her head falls back, exposing the long line of her throat, I follow it with open-mouthed kisses, sucking gently, then harder, marking her just enough that she’ll feel me tomorrow.
“Please,” she breathes, her hips lifting, chasing me until I’m aligned with her center.
I ease forward carefully and push in only an inch. She hisses, her body locking tight around me. I freeze, my every muscle screaming to thrust, but I pull back instead.
“Too much?”
She bites her lip, her eyes glassy as she nods. “A little,” she hesitates. “I’ve only… done this once before.”
Once before.
Everything in me stops.
Not because of jealousy, or anger, but because there’s a sharp, aching awareness settling deep in my chest.
“With me?” I ask quietly.
She nods again, turning her face away like she’s ashamed of the answer. Like she thinks it makes her fragile instead of strong. A tear slips down her cheek, and it guts me.
Fuck.
I catch the tear with my lips, kissing the salt from her skin.
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in, grounding both of us. “We don’t have to keep going,” I murmur. “Not until you’re ready.”
“No.”
Her hands clamp onto my shoulders, her nails digging in as she hauls me back down. “I want this. I want you.”
I hold still, letting her breathe through it. Letting her decide.
She exhales, shaky. “I’m so tired of feeling untouchable. Like no one’s allowed to want me. I just—I want to feel you. All of you. Please.”
Our gaze meets, and I see the sincerity behind her words, so I lean down and kiss her like I’ve got something to prove. Maybe I do. Maybe I need to prove that I’m worthy of her and let her feel something.
I kiss her languidly, taking my time, and letting her set the rhythm as her hips rock up against me in tiny, needy pulses.
She whimpers into my mouth, then reaches between us. Her fingers wrap around my cock—hesitant at first, then firmer. She guides me further inside.
“Please,” she begs again. “I need this.”
“I’ll go so fucking slow,” I promise. One last deep kiss, then I brace my forearms beside her head and ease in another inch. Pause. Watch her face. Another inch. Her brows pinch, her lips part on a soft gasp, but she doesn’t tell me to stop.
“You okay?”
Eyes squeezed shut, she nods. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I sink into her fully, and all the noise in my head goes quiet. “Fuck, Tiff. You feel so fucking good.” It’s all I manage to get out as I keep my pace slow.
She relaxes under me. Her hands slide from my shoulders to my neck and then to my jaw, like she can’t decide where she needs me most. I kiss her mouth, and she kisses me back with this messy moan that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
“Nothing has ever felt like this,” I groan against her lips. “You feel like home, baby. You’re the only place I belong.”
I don’t look away, because I don’t want to miss a thing. The way her lashes flutter, the way she breathes me in, the way her hips buck.
Heaven. That’s what this is, and I never want to leave.
My hand slides to her hip, and my thumb traces her skin while my other hand strokes her hair as I gently thrust into her. I can’t stop touching her. I can’t lose this connection.
“You’re perfect,” I tell her, meaning every word. “Every curve. Every mark. Every part that carried our daughter. I love all of it, Tiff. I love you.”
I probably should’ve held that last bit back, but I can’t help it. This feeling I have for her is too strong not to name.
Her body tightens around me; her breath comes out in short pants. I keep my pace, moving my hand between us so I can play with her clit. “That’s it,” I murmur, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Let go for me.”
She does, and she clenches around me, pulling me under with her. I stay with her through all of it, then I let go too, whispering her name.
For a second, we stay there. Me on top of her, breathing each other in. I lean in to kiss her before I pull out carefully.
After taking care of the condom in the bathroom, I get back into bed. She slides under my arm and rests her cheek on my chest. My hand makes lazy circles on her back as we stare up into the darkness.
Her breathing slows, and right before she falls asleep, I ask, “How do you feel?”
“A little sore,” she says with a quick, embarrassed laugh. “But happy.”
“Good.” I kiss her forehead. “Because I’m fucking euphoric.”
I feel her lift her chin, and in the little light seeping into the room, I can see her studying me for a second, like she’s checking I meant it. It feels like she’s about to say something, but then she stops herself, and rests her head back on my chest.
I pull her closer and breathe her in. Shampoo. Skin. The hint of Ella’s bubble bath. I used to be the guy who ran away from anything that felt real. Now, I’d burn the world down before I let it go.
We don’t say anything else. We don’t have to.
She falls asleep with her hand open on my chest, and I lie there. I count her breaths until mine line up with hers.
In the dark, I make a promise to myself: I’m going to be the person to give her everything she wants and needs. Not because I owe it. Because I want to—because she deserves it.
I close my eyes, holding her there, and for once, everything feels like it’s exactly the way it should be.