CHAPTER FIFTEEN #2
The drive to my house is charged with anticipation. Jack’s hand rests on my thigh, his thumb tracing small circles through my jeans. Every red light feels eternal. I can feel a warmth and wetness spreading between my thighs.
“Nice neighborhood,” he comments as I pull into my driveway, and aggressively shift the car into park.
“Divorce settlement.” I fumble with my keys at the front door, hyperaware of him behind me. “Troy got the investment accounts. I got the house.”
“His loss.”
Inside, I barely get the door closed before he’s pressing me against it, kissing me like he’s been thinking about it for months. Maybe he has. God knows I have.
“Bedroom?” he asks against my lips.
“Upstairs. But your shoulder—”
“Shoulder’s fine.” He proves it by lifting me easily, making me gasp. “Which way?”
“Second door on the right.”
He carries me up the stairs like I weigh nothing, despite the bruising. The bedroom door closes behind us with a soft click.
“Jack,” I breathe as he sets me down beside the bed. “Are you sure you’re okay to—”
“Sophia.” He cups my face in his hands. “I’ve wanted this since the first time I heard your voice. I’m more than okay.”
Jack’s mouth finds mine again, urgent this time, a low sound of relief and desire vibrating against my lips. His hands slide down my back, pulling me against him, his warmth soaking through me. Even exhausted, bruised, and battered, he feels strong and steady—exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
“Careful,” I whisper, conscious of his injured shoulder.
“I’ve been careful all day,” he murmurs, his lips tracing a hot path down my throat. “I’m done with careful.”
A shiver races through me. I tug his torn uniform shirt off, exposing lean muscle, the vivid bruises marring his skin. My fingers trace each bruise softly, reverently. He watches me, the intensity in his eyes almost overwhelming.
“I’m fine, Soph,” he says softly, sensing my hesitation. “Really.”
“You’re better than fine,” I whisper back. “You’re perfect.”
His fingers find the hem of my shirt, and I lift my arms, letting him pull it off.
The cool air hits my skin, quickly replaced by the heat of his mouth on my collarbone, the gentle scrape of his teeth sending sparks through me.
He trails slow, careful kisses downward, each touch like a quiet promise of more to come.
When he reaches my chest, he pauses, eyes meeting mine, silently asking permission.
My breath hitches, and I nod, incapable of speech.
The brush of his lips over my nipples send heat pooling deep in my core.
He’s slow, tender, yet with an undercurrent of tightly leashed hunger.
Every touch feels like he’s savoring something precious.
He traces a line with his mouth down to my navel, and then- ohhh - lower. Oh, my God. Oh my GOD .
“Jack,” I breathe, my fingers threading into his hair, holding him to me.
He tastes me—God, I thought I was wet before—lightning bolts cross my eyes.
It’s electric. Fuck , his tongue. He traces it around my clit, then darts it inside me, over and over.
I can feel my toes curl involuntarily. A noise escapes my mouth that I cannot describe.
He rises just enough to meet my gaze again, his blue eyes blazing, darkened with desire and something softer, more vulnerable. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I say simply. “All of you.”
He kisses me again, hard and deep, and then we’re moving toward the bed, clothes falling away piece by piece, the room fading to nothing but our tangled breath, the heat of his skin against mine.
He lays me back, gently, carefully despite his words, eyes never leaving mine.
His hands roam over me like he’s memorizing every curve, every reaction, each gasp and sigh I make.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers into my skin, the words more sensation than sound. My body arches into his touch, every nerve alive and thrumming with anticipation. He’s slow and thorough, making me shiver, making me ache.
When he finally moves over me, his weight settling gently between my thighs, he pauses again, breathing heavy, forehead resting against mine. “Sophia—”
“Jack.” My voice is pleading, urgent now. “ Please .”
He moves slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on mine as he sinks into me inch by exquisite inch. My breath catches at the fullness, the perfect, aching rightness of it. His jaw clenches, holding himself still for a moment, allowing us both to adjust to the sudden, perfect intimacy.
“God,” he whispers raggedly. “You feel…this is…”
“Exactly right,” I finish, wrapping my legs around him, drawing him deeper. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He moves again, slow at first, careful to read my reactions, until the gentleness gives way to something stronger, something raw and desperate.
Our rhythm builds, driven by weeks of carefully suppressed desire, months of casual flirtation, every stolen glance and secret smile leading us here, now.
The bruises on his shoulder make me cautious, but Jack guides my touch away from them gently, murmuring reassurances into my neck, his lips finding the sensitive skin behind my ear, making me gasp his name. His voice, whispering my name in response, is low and reverent, filled with awe and need.
“Sophia,” he breathes, our pace quickening now, urgency building. I cling to him, nails digging lightly into his back, and he groans, the sound sending heat spiraling through me.
“Jack, please,” I gasp, feeling the edge drawing closer, that exquisite tension coiling tightly inside me.
He shifts slightly, deepening his thrusts, and suddenly the tension snaps. Pleasure explodes through me, bright and blinding, washing away every coherent thought. Jack’s movements falter as he follows, gasping my name as he shudders against me, every muscle taut, every breath harsh and ragged.
We lie tangled together afterward, breathing slowly returning to normal, our bodies pressed close, skin slick and heated. He brushes hair away from my face, his fingers gentle, lingering.
“Worth the wait?” he asks softly, his voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction.
I smile, shifting closer, feeling strangely shy after everything we’ve just shared. “More than worth it.”
“Better than I imagined.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “And I’ve imagined it. A lot .”
“Just how long have you been thinking about this?”
“Truthfully?” His voice is sleepy, content. “Since you told me I could call anytime with my accent. Nearly drove off the road.”
I laugh, turning in his arms to face him. “We should have done this sooner.”
“No.” He’s serious now, those blue eyes finding mine in the darkness. “It happened exactly when it should have. When we were both ready.”
He’s right. A few months ago, I was still too raw from the divorce, too guarded. Now…
“What happens tomorrow?” I ask.
“Tomorrow, we have coffee at Marina Park. Take a walk. Maybe hold hands in public.” He grins. “Scandalous stuff.”
“The hospital gossip mill is going to explode.”
“Let them talk.” He pulls me closer. “I’m not hiding this. You?”
“No.” I trace the edge of his bruise gently. “No more hiding.”
He plants feather kisses on my forehead tenderly, over and over again, his arm tightening around me. “Good. Because I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“Good,” I echo, closing my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth and safety of his embrace. For once, I don’t think about tomorrow or complications or what could go wrong.
We fall asleep like that, wrapped around each other, the future uncertain but somehow less frightening than it’s been in years.
Because tonight, right here, is exactly enough.