Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
The week before we go to Killington for Adam’s birthday, we continue our routine.
Every day, Emma and I hang out after school and make dinner.
When Jesse gets home, Emma insists I stay to try it, something he agrees is necessary, with a smug grin as if he realizes, as I do, that his daughter is trying to push us together in her own way.
Each night, he convinces me to watch a movie on the couch together, one we barely watch because not long into it, we inevitably end up horizontal, making out. Every night, I try my best to get him to crack in his efforts to refrain from going any further than heated kisses.
Each night, he stops me before things get too good, telling me in soft words and gentle touches he’s not moving too fast, not until I’m ready. Then we spend the rest of the night holding each other and talking about everything and absolutely nothing at all.
I want to be annoyed by his method, but the truth is, each night, my fear of this failing lessens, and my need for him grows, so maybe he really does know what he’s doing.
But right now, that acceptance is nowhere to be found, not when I’m panting and needy as his lips move over mine.
I want more. Need more. I feel like a horny teenager, making out while their mom is in the other room, except I’m ten years out of high school and Jesse has a whole-ass kid. But every time I try for something more, Jesse stops me.
Like right now, when his lips trail to my ear and pull the hoops between them, nipping at me there and sending heat straight to my core.
“Please,” I whisper, shifting to slip my hand between us, to touch him or maybe myself, I don’t know, and really, I don’t care, but his fingers loop around my wrist, and his head shakes.
“No, baby. Not tonight.” He looks at me softly, not annoyed, but with all of the patience in the world as his hand moves, his thumb running over my bottom lip. “We have all the time in the world for more. I’m not rushing things until you’re ready to admit there’s something between us.”
I roll my eyes. The idea still shoots nervous energy through me, but it’s less sharp lately, overshadowed by my need for him and, admittedly, though I’m not ready to say it, my recent desire to show everyone what he means to me.
That development came as a surprise at Emma’s birthday party, when I found myself gravitating toward Jesse and, more than once, found myself having to stop from touching or kissing him. It’s only gotten worse.
“What’s between us right now is your hard-on,” I say, soft and seductive, trying to shift my hips to graze his.
“You know what I mean,” he says, not rising to the bait, unfortunately, and I groan in defeat once again.
“Every night you make out with me,” I say, sitting up, and Jesse follows. His hair is a tousled mess from my hands, and I’m sure mine looks just as wild.
“Are you unhappy with that?” he asks, and the words sound genuine, but his face is smiling as if he already knows the answer.
“No? Yes? Maybe?” I ask, and he lifts an entertained eyebrow at me. Clearly, he loves my suffering. “Yes.”
“You’re unhappy with that?”
“I’m unhappy that that’s all you’ll do with me.” He grins then, eyes crinkling at the sides, and my glare intensifies. “Stop looking so pleased with that!”
“I can’t. I’m incredibly pleased that you’re getting all riled up.”
“Is this your plan then? Making out like teenagers until I get bored?” His face goes serious, his head shakes, and he reaches out to grab my hand.
“Hallie, I don’t want either of us to think that sex is blurring our common sense and use that to doubt what we have. We’re building a foundation for forever, Hallie.”
His words settle in my chest, but after the last week, after the last month, they don’t sound as scary as they did when this first started.
I don’t tell him that, though, not wanting him to realize his method is actually working.
“You’re infuriating,” I grumble, and he laughs but reaches over, pulling me into his lap. My legs drape over him, and he pushes my hair back from my face before cupping my face.
“We’ll have the rest of our lives to fuck, Hallie.”
“We don’t even have to fuck!” I say, shifting so my center rests against his still hard cock. “We can do other things.”
“Hallie,” he says in warning, but he feels so good between my legs that I decide I don’t care about his protests. Not right now. Not when I can take what I need and still follow his rules.
“Fine,” I grumble, mostly to myself. “I can take care of myself.”
“Hallie.” His voice is a warning, but I’m liking the idea brewing in my mind more and more by the moment. I just need to take things into my own hands, to take a hit I need. He’s pushing me in the direction he wants, so why can’t I push him in the direction I want, too?
I shift, grinding myself gently against his hardness beneath me in his sweats, and a heavy breath leaves my lips.
I’m in thin black yoga pants and a pair of silky underwear that I definitely didn’t put on just in case he finally decided to move further, and I’m grateful for the way they sit against me now.
My hands move to his shoulders, pressing to lift myself and readjust, and a mewl leaves my lips as the thick length of him settles right where I need him.
I move my hands up to his jaw, cupping them and leaning in to kiss him, to continue with what we started.
He accepts the kiss eagerly, and when I realize he’s not stopping me, I have to fight back a squeal of delight.
Instead, his tongue twines with mine, stoking the fire that never went out, and slowly, my hips start to rock on him.
“What are you doing?” he asks, breaking the kiss, his hands moving to my hips, though he doesn’t stop me. He just rests them there, fingers tightening just as I shift my hips again, the head of his cock brushing over my oversensitive clit. My breath hitches before I answer, hips rocking again.
“Taking care of myself,” I whisper back, leaning in to kiss his again, deeper.
The hand on my hip grips me tighter, the other moving up my back and tangling in my hair at the back of my head as he groans into my mouth.
I can’t help but grin triumphantly into the kiss, but when I tip my hips back with my next line, the grin turns into a soft moan.
“Fuck, Hallie,” Jesse groans into my mouth. “Fuck.” The second one sounds more pained, more needy, and it sends me higher.
“I’m more than—” My breath hitches as pleasure shoots through me unexpectedly. I am already so close after a week of foreplay. “More than happy to fuck. You’re the one who refuses.”
“No, no. This is fucking perfect. I’m not complaining in the least. This is the most beautiful torture.”
He’s not going to stop me.
Need and heat crash through me with the realization, and my hips start to move faster, taking what I need without abandon. I tip my head back, moaning low, and his head drops forward to press kisses to my throat, my chest, whatever exposed skin he can reach.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groans into my neck. “Moaning and using me. Fuck Hallie.” My hips rock with more speed, my breath coming in short pants, the pleasure building between my legs.
“You could take over,” I manage to breathe, watching the look of pained pleasure on his face through hooded lips.
“And miss the show? Fuck no.”
His hand leaves my hip for a split second, shifting to hover over my breasts before thinking better of it and moving back to my hip.
He grips me there harder than before, as if he has to remind himself of the boundaries he set.
I really thought he would cave, that this would tip the scales in my favor, and he would fuck me, but it seems Jesse King has the restraint of a much stronger man.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hips lifting as I move, chasing my pleasure. My hands slide to cup my breasts, the thin bra I’m wearing barely offering any resistance as I roll my nipples. His eyes watch, enraptured, jaw loose, breathing heavy, and the look alone sends me higher.
“I’m gonna come,” I whisper, staring down at him with hooded eyes. His eyes shift to lock on mine, burning with unsated need. A hand moves up, gripping the back of my head and pulling me close until my forehead is pressed to his, never breaking eye contact with me.
“So am I,” he admits, then presses his lips to mine.
I don’t know if it’s the confession that he’s as lost as I am, that he’s so far gone and so needy that he’s like a fucking teenager, about to come in his pants, or if it’s the kiss, the need and desire and something I won’t quite name but know lingers there all the same, pouring from his lips to mine, but I come, lights flaring behind my eyes.
A deep, pleasure-filled groan leaves his lips, and his hands move to my hips, holding me down onto him, pulling me tighter, as I shatter, rocking my hips as wave after wave of pleasure crashes down over me.
Eventually, it wanes, and my body goes slack.
Jesse’s head falls to my shoulder, and I try to catch my breath as I come back to reality.
I just dry-humped Jesse King until I came, and I think I may have made him come in his pants.
More importantly, it was hands down the hottest sexual experience of my goddamn life.
“Like high school, huh?” I say with a laugh, and he lets out one of his own. “If I knew that was an option, I would have been doing that every night.”
He shakes his head. “That can’t happen again, Hallie.”
I pull back as my face falls, panic filling me. “Was it—”
“It was fucking phenomenal, and after you agree you’re mine, and after you agree to take a chance on this, on us, I’ll let you do that every fucking night if it’s what you want. You want to make me blow in my sweats like I’m fifteen? Have at it, so long as you make those pretty noises again.”
I just came harder than I ever have, and yet, my pussy tightens. He senses it, like he has some kind of sixth sense of Hallie’s pussy, and a wicked, boyish grin spreads on his lips.
“But until you’re ready to move forward with this. To be an us, to tell Wren and Madden and my parents, and eventually, my daughter, then no. We’re not doing this. We’re not muddying the waters.”
I try to move, to get away, but his arm is on my back, holding me close to him.
It forces me to face my thoughts and fears head-on.
I don’t know if it’s the calm brought on by the killer orgasm or his closeness or something different altogether, but for some reason, I drop my head into his neck and whisper to him.
“I’m not ready for that,” I confess, then add, “yet.”
His hand comes to my jaw, cupping it and lifting my face so he can press his on mine. “I can wait, Hallie.” He kisses me again, and with the gentle press, the lingering panic recedes, leaving warmth and tenderness in its wake. “Now, I’m gonna go clean this up, if you don’t mind.”
I smile, grateful for the break in heaviness.
“What, you don’t want to sit in it?”
He lets out a bark of laughter, lifting me with ease and tossing me onto the couch. I sit as he stands and stare at the damp spot in his sweats with a strange pride. But when I look at the clock and see it’s nearly eleven, I sigh.
“I should actually head out,” I say with regret, and a moment passes before he pulls me up and into him, holding me tight.
“Spend the night,” he whispers against my lips.
“Jesse—” I start because that’s precisely the opposite of taking things slow.
“I’ll set an alarm.” I tip my head, and his face goes so sincere, so soft before he speaks. “We can stay on the couch if you want. I just want to fucking hold you, Hallie.”
It’s a similar plea to the one from the night after Emma’s party.
“Promise you’ll wake me up before she wakes up?” He nods fervently, like a little kid promising to clean up his room in exchange for ice cream. I let out a small laugh and shake my head. “I don’t want to sleep on the couch.” I stood, and disappointment crossed his face. “Let’s go to bed, Jesse.”
And then I take his hand and lead him to his room.