Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
The week after Emma gets her period is everything I didn’t know I needed, but I think somehow, Jesse knew. He seems always to know what I need, and if I let myself believe it, I think he’s known what I need for some time.
And up until now, that was sweet kisses and nothing more. But by Tuesday, the soft, chaste presses of our lips aren’t doing it for me. I think about it the entire night as we watch some movie I can’t even pay attention to, Jesse’s warm back against mine, his arm looped around me, holding me tight.
I want more.
I need more.
And when I turn in his arms when the movie is over and lie face to face,
“Hey, Jesse?”
“Mmm,” he says low, reaching up and pushing some of my hair back over my shoulder in a delicate brush.
Gentle. So, so gentle. He’s always so gentle with me, and this past week has shown me that he’s not only gentle with his actions but also with his intentions. Gentle so as not to scare me, gentle so as not to push me too far, too fast.
And suddenly, I realize I want more.
“I want you to kiss me,” I whisper. He looks at me a bit confused, but then I clarify. “Really kiss me.” I lick my lips, and his eyes follow the movement before a low curse escapes his lips, the sound of it resonating right between my legs.
And then his lips are on mine, but not in the safe, sweet way I’ve become used to.
It’s heated; his hand is resting in my hair behind my head, using his grip there to position my head where he wants it.
His lips move over mine, his tongue wasting no time as it slides along the seam of my lips, requesting entry.
I open quickly, and when his tongue touches mine, we both sigh.
Fuck, I missed this. Missed him. The taste of him, the way he sounds, the way he feels against me.
Every touch sends fire through my veins, and it builds and builds until all that exists in my universe when his lips are on mine is him and me.
There are no complications, no fears, no daughter, no family—nothing but Jesse and me.
We kiss like that for long minutes, my heart racing and need building. His hand moves to my hip, gripping tight as if he needs it to keep him tethered to reality, to remember whatever plan or mission he’s laid out for himself.
I suddenly want him desperately untethered.
“Jesse,” I breathe, needing more. “I need…more.”
He groans, his fingers tightening on my hip, and I tighten with anticipation. But instead of getting his hand or literally anything to ease the ache between my legs, I get a soft, sweet kiss, remiss of any fire that was there moments ago.
And then I get cold air as he sits up. I’m appeased just a bit when he reaches down, lifting me from where I’m lying and pulling me to his side, his head going into my neck and breathing me in, but I’m still left reeling by the sudden and abrupt change.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he says against my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake, before pulling away like it pains him and turning to the television.
“What?”
“That’s enough for tonight.”
I shift away to look at him, but his face is locked to the screen as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.
“We don’t have to stop,” I say, reaching up to cup his cheek and turning his head to look at me. He gives me a soft look, then bends and gives me a sweet, chaste kiss.
“Yes, we do.”
I scrunch my nose in irritation, and he laughs, leaning in to kiss the tip of it.
“We’re going slow, Hallie.”
And it’s sweet. So fucking sweet that I can’t find it in me to argue, so I smile at him, then snuggle into his side and watch the rest of the movie.
The next night, I find it far less sweet.
Again, we kiss, lying on his couch, making out like teenagers.
After long minutes of it, I’m desperate to find some kind of friction to ease the throbbing between my legs.
I lift a leg to hook it around his hip, but his palm meets my knee and stops me before I get even the slightest brush of the bulge I felt between us, where I want it.
“Please,” I whisper, trying to shift around to get what I want, but his head shakes.
“No, Hallie girl. Not tonight.”
“Why not?” I pout.
I pout. I’m twenty-seven, lying on Jesse King’s couch, making out with him, and I’m pouting because he won’t do anything. Hell, I’d take dry humping right now.
“Because you’re not ready,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers along my jaw reverently.
“But I want to do…something,” I whine.
“And we will. Trust me. When you’re ready.”
I feel like stomping a foot like a petulant child.
“So you’re not going to do anything with me until I’m ready to, what? Tell the world I have the hots for you?”
“If that’s the word you want to use, sure.”
I scrunch my nose up, and he laughs, then shifts, rolling so I’m on my back, and he’s hovering over me.
I would say something like, “Now this is what I’m talking about,” but the look on his face is far too serious for me even to begin to believe he’s about to let me ride his thigh, much less anything else.
“I messed up once already with you by moving too fast. I’m not going to risk scaring you off again, Hallie. Try all you want, but I’m not moving any further with you until you feel secure in what we have.’
Again, I want to argue.
But again, his face is so sincere, and his words are so fucking perfect that I can’t. So instead. I sigh.
“Fine,” I grumble. He laughs, shaking his head and giving me a soft kiss. “But I’m not going to make it easy on you.”
“You never do. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
On Valentine’s Day, even though it’s a Saturday, I get to Jesse’s place at my normal time for coffee before Emma is even awake.
Still, unlike normal, instead of giving me a soft kiss, he drags me into his room, pressing his lips to mine, and makes out with me for a full five minutes before he pulls away, resting his forehead on mine.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hallie,” he says, and I can’t help but grin.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jesse.” He steps away then, moving to his bedside table and grabbing a small box before handing it to me. It’s light, one of those pre-wrapped boxes, but it’s the same: a gift.
A Valentine’s Day gift from Jesse Peter King to me, it seems.
“Jesse…” I say, hesitating.
“It’s nothing crazy, trust me. Just something I saw and thought you needed.”
“It’s—”
“Let me have this, Hallie,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to mine and pushing the small box into my hands. When I look at him, his face is soft, and I can see it means something to him that I'm accepting this, so I sigh and nod, then open the small box.
Inside are a pair of dainty hoop earrings, silver and gold twisted together in hoops just bigger than huggie earrings. They’re simple and beautiful and so very me. Because, as he shows me every single day, this man knows me more than anyone ever has in my life.
“I know you switch your earrings often, and you don’t stick to just gold or silver, so I thought these would be a good addition—something you could rotate in.”
I stare at them, touching the delicate metal gently and wondering why on earth he would think I would be rotating these into my earring sets.
These are going to be worn every fucking day of my life.
When I look back up at him, he is looking at me with anticipation, nerves clear. I let him out of his misery. “They’re gorgeous, Jesse. Perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh, setting the box aside and taking out the small gold hoops from my first hole.
I have four on each side, and I’ve never missed the way Jesse always looks at them, touches them, or, like that one night, tugs them between his teeth.
A shiver runs through me before his hand reaches up, replacing mine.
“Can I?”
I nod, then he delicately and tenderly removes the other earring before sliding in the new hoops, clasping them, and reverently rubbing his fingers over the new set.
It sends a wave of adoration mixed with need, and even though I know I’ll be touching and staring at them all day, I don’t need to look at them in the mirror.
Not when Jesse is already looking at them like they’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen.
“Gorgeous,” he says, and then he leans forward and presses his lips to mine in a hot, sweet kiss. Minutes later, I’m gasping, and I know we’re running out of time, since Emma will be up soon, and regrettably, I step away.
“Well, this makes my news for you even more awkward.”
He lifts his eyebrow at me.
“Are you breaking up with me on Valentine’s Day, Hallie?”
“We have to be together to break up.” His eyes narrow, thoroughly unentertained by me, and I bite back a smirk. “No, I’m not breaking up with you. But I don’t have a gift for you.”
“I told you—”
I interrupt him and finish giving him the news.
“But I did plan a daddy-daughter date night tonight with Emma yesterday.” He tilts his head, clearly not seeing that coming.
“At home. But it means we’re kicking you out today.
And when you come back, you’ll spend the night with Emma.
” I read him, but he’s a blank slate as he stands with his eyes locked on mine.
Long moments stretch between us, as does my patience before I finally crack.
“Are you…okay with that?” I ask nervously.
“Okay with what?”
“Your day with Emma. I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day. You got me these.” My fingers reach up to touch my new earrings reverently. “And in turn, I set up a whole date for you with someone else.” I let out a laugh, and he shakes his head, confusion and awe on his face.
“There are only two people I would want to spend this day with. This year, Emma gets it. This is a gift, Hallie, even if you don’t see it. I don’t think I have much longer that she’ll be willing to have a daddy-daughter date on Valentine’s Day.”
I understand what he’s saying, but I still want to clarify.