CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE #3
I suck in a breath, my hips moving with his, finding the rhythm, chasing the high. My mind starts to spin, vision blurring, stars dancing behind my eyelids.
And I let go, crying out his name as the orgasm hits me.
But that’s just the first.
Seconds later, another orgasm crashes over me.
Then a third.
And a fourth.
Wave after wave of pleasure floods my body, each one more intense than the last, until I can’t even keep count.
By the time the last wave fades, I’m limp, useless, nothing but a puddle of bliss in his arms.
James keeps moving inside me. His arms tighten, holding me close, fully supporting my weight as I melt into him. His chin rests on my shoulder while his hands slide up to cup my breasts, giving them one last teasing squeeze.
After a few more thrusts, his whole body tenses, and then he comes hard.
We collapse onto the sleeping bag, exhausted, slick with sweat, but still connected.
James groans, pulling out of me slowly, reluctantly, like he already misses it.
He rolls onto his side next to me, one arm draped lazily across my stomach.
I don’t move, though. I can’t. My whole body’s vibrating, tingling, burning, like I’m still riding the high of the longest orgasm of my life.
I feel goose bumps prickle up my arms. I feel the blanket brush my back. I feel the air filling my lungs. I feel my toes curl against the fabric of the sleeping bag.
I feel everything.
But I still can’t move.
My mind holds onto three words.
Fuck. Amazing. Man.
“Sarah, are you okay? You’re not moving.” James shifts beside me, his breathing still uneven.
I blink a few times, trying to focus, but the ceiling of the tent blurs like a night sky, stars sparking behind my eyes where there shouldn’t be any. I feel so much heat that I swear I’m touching fire.
“Sarah?” His voice gets louder.
I drag in a shaky breath. My lips part, and when I manage to speak, the words barely come out.
“I… am… fine… Just… still… feeling… you… everywhere.”
I see James’s smug-ass face pop into my vision, grinning like a man who knows exactly what he did. Everything around him is still sparking, still glowing, still spinning.
He has the kind of beautiful that punches the air from your lungs. Sharp cheekbones, jaw set tight, sweat dripping down the curve of his neck. His lips are still wet from mine, and I want to kiss him again, just to make sure this is real.
Fuck, he’s breathtaking.
“So… handsome,” I tease, breathlessly.
He smiles back at me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his fingers tracing lazy lines down my body. “You’re still not moving.”
Yeah, no shit, James. You fucked the ability out of me.
I take a breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
“I… need a minute. That was… intense.”
Intense, indeed. I think he might have just left a permanent imprint on my soul.
James’s fingers continue to trail over my waist, tracing delicate patterns on my skin. Across my belly. Up my breast. Circling a nipple. Sliding to my shoulder. Down my arm. Memorizing me all over again.
He cups my face. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful it hurts.”
“So, you like pain, huh?”
He chuckles, shaking his head as he watches me finally start to move. My toes wiggle, and my hand slides up his chest.
He catches my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Always causing trouble, Sarah Williams.”
I grin. “The best kind.”
“The Sarah kind,” he says, flashing me that stupidly hot smile.
God, I love being the cause of that smile.
I tap his chest, pulling back just a little. “I have something to give you.”
James smirks, giving my very naked body a shameless once-over.
“Baby, you already gave me everything.”
I roll my eyes, snorting. “Men.”
James lies on his side of the sleeping bag, arms crossed behind his head, looking relaxed, just like he used to back at the ranch.
God, I missed seeing him like that.
I reach for my backpack and flip it open.
The first thing I grab is my new pair of ballet shoes.
Not what I’m looking for. I set them aside and keep digging.
Next, I pull out my worn copy of The Secret Garden.
Still not it. I drop that too. Then I spot my pocketknife and toss it on top of the book. Not that either.
James watches from his spot, eyes full of amusement.
“Trying to force me to read a book in a creative way?” he teases.
I shake my head, laughing, but I don’t answer. I keep digging until my fingers close around what I’m looking for.
Turning to James, I hold my fist in front of his face, letting the suspense build. Then, slowly, I open my hand.
James’s eyes widen, his whole body going still, like I just performed a magic trick. His stare locks on his dad’s old pocket watch, resting in my palm.
I remember the exact moment I saw it fall from his pocket back at the fire station, almost like it was in slow motion, even though the world around us was chaos. Then Frank’s boot kicked it, sending it sliding into the open trapdoor. The same one his men had crawled out of.
When Alicia left, Michael went to his room, and James came to ours to grab our backpacks so we could get the hell out before Tyler ever showed his face.
While they were busy, I slipped through the trapdoor to search for his pocket watch. I wasn’t even scared of the dark space underneath.
There were boxes everywhere, but luck was on my side. The watch had landed right on top of one, cushioned and somehow still intact.
And now, it’s here.
Back where it belongs.
James sits up straight, reaching for the watch with the same reverence I’ll have when we finally get our hands on chocolate.
He turns it over, his thumb tracing the lines of his family name carved into the back, like he’s touching a memory.
He gapes at me. “How?”
“If I tell you, we might end up arguing again.”
He throws his head back and laughs.
His hands slide around my waist, pulling me onto his lap, my bare chest pressing against his.
“You never stop surprising me, little danger. Thank you.”
I glance down at the watch again, then back up at him.
“I just… I know how much your dad’s watch means to you.”
James tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “No, Sarah. Thank you for saving me.”
He’s not just talking about what happened at the fire station when I stabbed Frank’s hand. He’s talking about all of it. Everything that’s been weighing on him. The things he doesn’t say.
When Michael brought him to the ranch, I could see it—James was broken. Michael saw it too. That’s why he helped him, even knowing he was an Outsider.
Back then, we didn’t really understand what the Outsiders were. The gangs told stories, twisted lies about Outsiders being dangerous rebels, meant to make people fear them. Make us fear them too.
James still has the heart of an Outsider.
He still wants to fight the system—all those rules the gangs made up to keep everyone under control.
I saw it when he helped Lorelai and Ryan.
When he helped Nathan’s family last year.
And again in Denver, when he helped Alicia get those people Tyler had trapped out of the city.
James didn’t stop fighting because he stopped caring. He stopped because, deep down, he believes being who he is got his dad killed.
I always knew something awful had happened to James. And now I’m sure it was the day his dad died. He told me on my birthday that it was his fault—that his dad died because of him. I wanted to ask how. I wanted to know. But I saw the pain in his eyes, and I couldn’t.
I reach out and touch his chest, my fingers tracing the scars there.
“Those men at the fire station tried to kill you just for helping people,” I say, looking up at him. “I don’t get it, James. Why?”
“Because some people want to control others. And to them, everyone’s a threat.”
“Even me?”
“No. You’re too good.”
I grab my pocketknife from the top of my book and hold it up between us, grinning. “Not even when I’m holding this?”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, even with that. To me, you’re the heart of this place. You see the good when the rest of us are too scared to look.”
I set the knife back on top of my book, but James picks it up and slides it under my pillow instead.
I tilt my head, watching him. “What are you doing?”
“Always hide your weapon in the most unexpected place,” he says with a wink.
I lie back on the sleeping bag, my head resting on the pillow, right where he hid my knife. James wraps himself around me, arms holding me close.
I feel his heartbeat against mine. He feels mine against his.
His rhythm. My rhythm. The same. Like we’re one.
“So, my ballerina, I know your birthday got ruined yesterday, but did the surprise party at least make up for me forgetting it last year?”
I look at the ballet shoes by my backpack.
James gave them to me for my birthday. He hid the box in the little store next to the fire station and made sure I’d spot the pink wrapping paper sitting on the shelf.
My heart races just thinking about how many places he must’ve searched to find them for me.
“Of course not. You’re only off the hook when you bring me chocolate.”
He laughs and starts twirling one of my braids between his fingers. “God, I love you, little danger.”
“And I love you, Outsider.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
“Guys?”
Michael’s voice outside the tent yanks us back to reality.
“Hey, I just got back. Bagged a good dinner,” he says. “Why isn’t the bonfire lit yet? It’s almost dark. Alicia’s probably on her way. She’s gonna be starving, and she’ll blame me if dinner’s not ready.”
James and I muffle a laugh into each other’s skin.
“Come on, help me out here!”