26. Cami
Cami
But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift
T he house is too quiet. In the quiet, I rethink everything I've said and done in the past few weeks. Even though chaos surrounds me right now, my heart feels so full.
I think about the way I must have seared him by the way he looked at me after I said, “business partners,” like I’d sucker punched him right in the gut. God, I still can't get the look on his face out of my mind.
Or the way I can still feel the heat of his hand on the small of my back when he passed behind me in the barn earlier. It was barely a brush but enough to make my pulse trip over itself. Jack's always had that power over me, and now it's only gotten stronger.
He’s downstairs in the living room. Probably watching some late-night rodeo rerun.
I hate how aware I am of him. We keep dancing around our past like ghosts around a campfire. I hate that he’s here, and he feels like home, danger, and longing all wrapped in one.
I pad down the stairs in my bare feet, the floorboards cool under my toes, and I pause when I see the faint flicker of firelight dancing in the living room.
He’s sprawled on the couch like some kind of shirtless cowboy centerfold with one arm thrown over the backrest, long legs stretched out like he owns the place.
His chest is bare, golden in the firelight, all broad and annoyingly perfect.
His hair’s a mess, like he’s been dragging his hands through it, and don’t even get me started on the jeans slung low on his hips. My heart? In full cardiac arrest.
He sees me, and something in his expression shifts. Softens. Like maybe he’s been sitting there thinking. Or maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t sleep either.
I lean against the doorway, pretending like I’m totally unaffected. “Burning the midnight oil, Jessop?”
He grins, slow and sleepy. “Can’t sleep.”
“Too many feelings?” I tease, stepping into the room like my pulse isn’t tap dancing.
He lifts a brow, eyes warm. “Only when I’m under the same roof as a woman who drives me absolutely insane.”
I smile. “Aw. That almost sounded romantic.”
He grins. “Almost.”
“Mission accomplished, then,” I say as I plop down on the couch beside him, a few inches of safety cushion between us. The fire crackles. Shadows play across his face. And when I glance sideways, he’s watching me.
"What are you doing, Jack?" I ask softly, more serious this time. I hold out for a sliver of hope that he'll drop his guard and tell me what's really on his mind.
He clears his throat. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things. Mostly about you and me. ”
I glance over at him. His jaw is tight. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek like he's nervous. Vulnerable.
“My dad did a number on me, Cami. On all of us. But I'm trying to move past it all and become a man who isn't him."
I blink, surprised by how quiet his voice is. “Jack...”
He shakes his head. “There's so much you don't know. It’s the stuff I’ve been carrying since I was a kid. Every time he hit me, every lie he made me tell, every time he made me feel like I wasn’t good enough—that cut me deep. And I’ve spent most of my life afraid I’d turn out just like him.”
I shift, giving him my full attention. My heart is in my throat. “You’re nothing like him, Jack.”
He gives a bitter smile. “You don’t know that.
I’ve got his blood. His name. That name comes with a warning label.
And I think… I think that’s why I’ve kept my distance from you.
Because you deserve someone without all that baggage.
Someone who doesn’t wake up wondering if the darkness inside him is gonna win one day. ”
“Jack.” I reach out, my fingers brushing his. “That’s not who you are. You’re not your father.”
He meets my gaze, and for the first time, I see the fear behind them. The vulnerability behind the swagger. He plays the alpha cowboy card so well. But this is a new side of him. One that he hasn't let me see before.
“But what if I can't be who you need me to be?” he whispers.
I slide closer, my hand finding his. “I don't need you to be anything other than who you are, Jack.
Remember that boy I used to build forts with as a kid?
That's still you. You're still my person.
No matter where you've been or who you think you are now, that boy is still in there.
And deep down, he's still my best friend.”
Silence stretches, thick and electric. Then he shifts closer, so our knees touch.I don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s him. All I know is that one second, we’re just talking, and the next?—
I’m in his arms.And it feels so good it hurts.
He wraps me up like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My face finds his neck, and he smells like cedar and smoke and the man I’ve tried to hate and failed so epically.
“You always this cuddly after dropping emotional bombs?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood even though my voice is shaking.
“Only with you,” he murmurs.
I laugh softly against his chest. “God, you’re annoying.”
“Still cuddling me though.”
“Shut up, Jessop.” I shift, and that’s when I realize just how tangled we are.
His thigh is wedged between mine, his hand flat against my back, my shirt rucked up slightly where his fingers brush skin.
My nipples are pebbled and I— God, I want him to touch me so badly.
My heart pounds in places I didn’t know it could. I wonder if he can feel it, too.
His breath hitches.“Wilder…I’m sorry I left like I did,” he whispers, voice strained.
I look up. Our faces are inches apart.
And then I kiss him. I don't hold back; I just go for it, praying he'll kiss me back.It’s not planned. It’s not gentle. It’s heat and need and too many years of not having him when I should have.
He groans into my mouth and threads his fingers through my hair, deepening the kiss instantly.
His mouth is hot and demanding, but careful, like he’s trying to cherish every second.
When he shifts and pulls me fully onto his lap, I gasp against his lips.
He takes the opportunity to trail kisses down my neck, nipping just above my collarbone, and I swear I see stars.
“I hate how good this is with you,” I whisper .
“You fuckin’ love it. I love how good this is,” he counters, voice thick.
He’s right. I do.
My hands trace his neck and his skin is warm, solid muscle, and when he shudders under my touch, it flips something primal in me.
His eyes lock on mine, asking for permission without saying a word.
I nod, and he takes my oversized pajama top off and leans back to admire his view. His fingers trace over my breasts, and he moans softly.
He looks like he’s about to come undone when he sees I have no panties on and am bare for him.
It feels slow and hot and real . We take our time. Like we’re unlearning every reason we’ve been apart. Like we’re rewriting our whole story with our bodies. And it feels so good. My body trembles, his touch steadying me.
His mouth goes to my breasts, and he takes his time, biting and soothing each sting with a lick. My hands grip his hair as he tugs on my nipples, making me moan.
My hands move for his jeans, unzipping them and pulling them down, as I feel his rock-hard cock under me. Ready for me.
We might be a mess in so many ways and have so much to work out, but this right here is happening. This feels right.
He takes his time kissing my breasts, licking, sucking and touching each one like they're prizes he's won. I moan and lean back, my hair tickling my back. "Jack..."
His eyes reach mine and they're hungry with desire as he watches me, going back to kissing me and touching me, palming me, not saying anything, but being in this moment with me that both of us need.
"Is this finally happening?" I whisper .
"Do you want this?" he asks, as he grips my waist, and I feel his rock-hard cock under me.
"Yes," I say quickly. "I want you, Jack.”
He’s all I can think about. I would give anything to have him inside me right now.
He pulls me closer and kisses me, sliding his tongue into my mouth, swiping at my lip, savoring me. His hands slide down my ribs and he finds my pussy and drags a finger through it, "Jesus. Is this for me, Cami?” he asks hoarsely.
"Yes," I whimper at his touch and arch for him.
He kisses me and works my clit with his fingers, and I grind into him, feeling his hard cock under me, moving on top of him as he groans.
He grips my bottom and pulls me up and stands, walking over in front of the fireplace and lays me on the rug. I lie there topless, my hair spread out around me, gazing up at him.
This is a man I could do forever with. He’s making me believe it.
But tonight, tonight we’re going to do this. Something we've been dancing around for so long.
The way my body reacts to his touch is crazy. Sometimes, just the way he looks at me makes me instantly wet and want him. The power that Jack has always had over me is something I've struggled with because, no matter how hard I fight him, he's always had that power. And probably always will.
"I've wanted you for so long, Cami."
"Take me," I demand.
He smirks as his hands gently spread my thighs, and he licks straight up my center. "Mine," he murmurs. He continues to take his time, sucking, licking, using fingers, and I bite my lip and arch my back, holding it back because this feels...so...good.
"Come," he orders as he continues working my clit and using his fingers and my body continues to tense, and finally...I shudder and come harder than I ever have before. I’ve been so worked up over Jack, I knew it wouldn’t take much.
I shatter. Into a million pieces, my body, shudders, my breath choppy and my chest shaking.
He stands and takes off his jeans, dropping them and tugging down his boxers, his cock springing free and holy shit.
He's hard, and I want him so bad, right now.
"I don't have a condom, but I've been checked since I've been with anyone, and it's been a while," he says softly.
"I'm on birth control, and I want you right now, Jack. I need you," I whimper.
He kneels, leaning to kiss me and trails down to my breasts again. "God, these are perfect."
He takes his cock in his hand and strokes it and pushes the tip into me, and I suck in a breath and moan.
He kisses up my neck and over to my lips as he moves until the rest of him is inside of me and we're together. Finally. And somehow, I can't explain it, but it feels so right. And he feels so good. So good.
I know this is one night and I can’t let myself want more. But damn, I could make this man dinner for the rest of his life.
He starts slow and moves firm and fast, and I build and build until I'm holding it back and he whispers, "Come on my cock, baby."
I moan, and my whole body surges, my hands pulling him to me as he grunts and pulses and comes hard, his eyes on mine, and I swear it is the most intimate I’ve ever been with a person.
I’ve had boyfriends, had my fair share of sex.
But this? This wasn’t that. This was something I’ve never had with anyone before.
He searches my eyes and the smirk returns, "Why did we fight for so long?"
I sigh, content, my body relaxed, "Because there's no one in the world I’d rather fight with than you."
He laughs and shakes his head.
"And if we get to do this to make up, well, then we could have more fights, I guess." I smirk.
He kisses me softly and says, "There's no one in the world for me other than you, Cami. Never has been, never will be."
After we get cleaned up, we lie tangled in a mess of limbs and breath and firelight.
He strokes a thumb along my hip. “You okay?”
“Better than okay.”
We lay in silence for a while, listening to the crackle of the fire and the slow thud of our hearts, which find the same rhythm.
Then I say, “I don’t know how to do this.”
He doesn’t answer right away. He kisses my temple, pulls me tighter. He knows what I mean.
“We'll figure it out. Together.”
I want to believe that.I do .But the scared part of me still whispers that people leave. That love fades. That I don't know if my heart could survive another loss.I close my eyes and press my face to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
For now, that’s enough.