37. Maya
Maya
I can’t stop the way my breath catches as Jamie pushes into me, slowly but without hesitation, and I feel every inch. He rests his forehead against mine, grinding his teeth with a low, “Fuck, love, you feel so good.”
He starts rocking into me, my back pressed against the door, and kisses a trail down the side of my neck.
My nails scrape his scalp, tugging his soft curls as I’m overwhelmed by the feel of him. I’ll never get tired of his scent, his touch, the low gravelly sounds he makes when he’s inside me.
There isn’t much I can do in this position except let him hold me and enjoy the ride. His pelvis brushes against my clit each time he thrusts, and coupled with the frantic, desperate need I’ve been harboring all night, I won’t last much longer.
I arch into him, feeling my core clench as he spreads my thighs wider and hits even deeper. A whimper escaped my lips and my thoughts go fuzzy as I feel the impending orgasm brimming at the base of my spine.
A rough, calloused hand makes its way beneath my shirt, fingers teasing my breast as he brings his mouth back to mine.
Jamie quickens his thrusts, leaning back and using the hand on my chest to hold me against the wall. His dark eyes lock onto mine as his tattooed hand glides up my sternum and wraps around my throat, gentle, scrunching my shirt up around his arm so that my lace bra is exposed.
His gaze trails down my body, taking in my rumpled clothes and flushed skin. My skirt is bunched around my waist, giving him an unobstructed view of where his length slips in and out of me.
“Look at you.” His raspy whisper rakes down my spine, and the combination of his eyes, his rhythm, and his touch does me in.
Another whimper turns into a moan as the orgasm he pulls from my body shudders through me.
The hand on my throat climbs higher, covering my mouth to stop me from being heard by anyone out in the corridor.
A split second later, a deep rumble erupts from Jamie’s chest as heat floods into me. He bends his head down, biting my shoulder to silence himself as he comes.
Neither of us moves as we catch our breath. After a moment, I stick out my tongue and lick Jamie’s palm, because he never moved his hand from my mouth. He jerks his hand away with a laugh. “Sorry.”
Lifting me up, he pulls out of my body and straightens my underwear before setting me down on shaking legs. Still leaning against the door, I readjust my skirt and top as Jamie tucks himself back into his jeans.
He looks at me, eyes glittering with amusement and adoration, a playful smile tugging at his lips, and it melts my heart.
So rarely does this side of him come out—lighthearted and carefree. Pushing away from the door, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his trim waist. “I love you,” I say, smiling up at him with my chin on his chest.
“I love you, too,” he returns, dropping one last kiss onto the tip of my nose as he brushes the stray hairs from my face. “Have Dani drop you off at the house later,” he suggests, reluctant to let go.
Smiling up at him one more time, I nod before stepping away from his warm embrace. “I will. I’ll see you later, Jamie.”
“See you later, Maya.”
“Don’t miss me too much.”
“I already do.”
Dani, Stella, and I exchange pleasantries and small talk while we wait in line to order coffee and breakfast a few days later.
“So, Dani, how are your parents settling in?” Stella asks once we’ve found a table.
“Good! They’re all moved in and unpacked. As far as I know, work is going well,” Dani replies.
“What do they do? You said your step-dad works for the government?”
“My mom’s a nurse, and yeah, my step-dad actually works for the FBI,” Dani answers.
Stella nods, as if she already knew that. “Out of curiosity, is…is Drake Kingston—”
“My step-brother? Yeah,” Dani answers, sheepishly.
“I promise, I didn’t know Colt was the guy he hurt until after Denver.
I don’t actually pay attention to all the hockey stuff, and then we found out we were moving, and Paul and Drake started talking about all this drama with Saint Augustine’s and I finally put two and two together. ”
Dani looks sheepishly at Stella from across the table, as if her new friend is going to get up and leave after learning she’s related to the guy who gave her boyfriend amnesia.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Stella says, seeing the anxiety written on Dani’s face. “You aren’t responsible for someone else’s actions.”
“How’s he doing, by the way?” I ask, cutting some of the tension and getting the focus off of Dani for a minute.
While Stella, Dani, and I talked the other night at the bar, we didn’t get into any of the heavier topics like her boyfriend’s accident.
Colt looked good as new when we were introduced at Ale Mary’s, and I wasn’t going to kill the mood by asking about his recovery.
He’s probably sick of talking about it; I know I would be.
“He’s good! Yeah, things were rough for a minute, but all his memories are mostly back, and he’s so glad to be playing again. Honestly, jumping back in has made him a little intense, and he’s putting a lot of pressure on himself to end out the season with a win.”
“I know my dad is glad to have him back,” I reply with a smile, “but he’d also tell Colt that it’s not a one man sport.”
“Oh, I know. Colt’s spent a lot of time in his office talking about all of that before your dad would even let him back on the ice. Your dad’s amazing, and he’s been nothing but supportive, as far as I’ve heard.” Stella sips her chai. “So, what about you? What do you do, Maya?”
“I am a tattoo artist, actually,” I answer. “I work at Ghostline, downtown.”
“No way! That’s so cool. Is it hard? Can I see some of your work?”
I laugh, pulling out my phone and finding Ghostline’s social media page. “It is a little hard, but it got easier with practice, just like everything else in life. Here, you can scroll through this. My profile is tagged in the pieces that I did.”
Stella looks through the photos, expressing awe and showering my work in compliments as she does.
“I don’t have any tattoos. I was always too much of a chicken, and I didn’t want to get one that turned out bad. But I think I’d get one from you,” she says, handing me back my phone.
The last image she looked at is still pulled up on the screen; the skeleton on Jamie’s thigh. Memento vivere. My mind wanders to last night, laying in his bed; I licked over that tattoo before going down on him.
One thing about Jameson Booker? He can’t keep his hands off of me. Even when we aren’t doing anything sexual, he is always touching me. Cuddling, hand on my leg, playing with my hair. The man’s love language is physical touch, and it breaks my heart every time I think about why.
Every time I think that he didn’t feel a single affectionate, loving, comforting touch for fifteen years.
I must space out for a moment, because suddenly I register Dani’s voice saying my name.
“Maya. Are you good?”
Looking up, I see two sets of green eyes gazing back at me. “Sorry,” I chuckle awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to zone out on you.”
Dani looks at me with concern, but Stella’s looking at my phone—at the tattoo.
“That one’s my favorite, I think. Every detail is flawless, even down to the anatomy.”
“Thank you. I did that one a couple months ago…for a friend.” My voice hesitates over the word friend, because Jameson Booker is so much more than a friend. A word so simple could never encompass what we are to one another.
Stella doesn’t miss the hesitation. “More than a friend?” she asks bluntly, and I laugh.
“No beating around the bush with you, is there?” I ask, amused.
Stella shrugs. “Not really. These days, I’m a big believer in the idea that talking through your feelings can actually make you feel better.”
“Easier said than done,” Dani says, and I nod.
“That’s definitely true. But sometimes the only way to carry all the baggage is to let someone else help, you know?” Stella smiles softly, and I find myself wanting to do just that—share my baggage with her. She has one of those auras about her that makes a person seem inviting and easy to talk to.
Looking to Dani, I can see she’s having the same epiphany, and I smile involuntarily. Turning back to Stella, I say, “Girl, you should go work with Dani’s step-dad for the FBI. I think you could make anyone spill their secrets.”
My comment pulls a laugh from her. “I’ll keep that in mind next time one of those hockey boys thinks they can get away with eating my leftovers.”