Chapter 21
Pulling up to my house just past nine feels so lame and I’m a little bummed about it, but he doesn’t suggest any other options. Neither do I.
He looks over at me as soon as he puts the car in park, trapping me in the seat as if the belt is still secured across me. It isn’t.
“Thanks for coming,” he says.
I smile and nod. “I had fun.”
I look at his hand resting between us. Something about a man’s hands just gets me.
The veins, the rough, callused evidence of hard work, the possibilities of what they can do…
I don’t know what Jameson does in his free time, but his hands aren’t exactly soft.
He may not be lugging bales of hay, but he clearly doesn’t just sit at a computer all day either.
He reaches out and cups the side of my face gently, turning it toward him. Unspoken words pass between us, like we’re both feeling this crazy attraction and neither of us has had enough yet.
He leans in slowly, his scent wrapping around me like a heady wine, leaving me drunk with lust.
His lips touch mine only briefly, then he pulls back a fraction, and we’re frozen like that for a moment, taking each other in. The calm before the storm I sense is coming.
I move first.
My lips crush against his mint-flavored mouth, his tongue meeting mine. His hand is in my hair and I don’t know why the other one isn’t touching me yet.
He feels too far away with the center-console between us. His other hand finally finds my hip, and as soon as I begin to move he’s in sync with me. He pulls as I climb, and somehow, in one effortless move, I’m across the barrier and straddling his lap. Our lips never break.
I feel his hardness against that spot between my thighs and the friction is almost enough to send me over the edge.
I don’t know how I went so long without doing this.
But with the way he’s running his hand down my back and working his tongue into my mouth like he wants to taste every inch of me, I know why.
I haven’t been tempted like this. Turned on like this.
It’s easy to resist when you don’t have a Jameson whispering in your ear with his little accent.
He groans into my mouth after I involuntarily grind against him—my body seeming to have a mind of its own—then both of his hands are gripping me from behind like he never wants to let go, pulling me down onto him even closer.
I break the kiss to take a breath, then clutch his hair as he continues to kiss along my neck, the gentle scratch of his stubble making me moan again.
Am I doing this? Am I actually doing this? Nothing in me is protesting. I’m a grown woman. Yes, it’s been a long time, but I deserve to have a little fun. I’m not nervous at all. If anything, I’m impatient at this point.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask through shortened breaths.
He slows his kissing along my neck, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on my rear. Not even a little.
His mouth returns to mine, his lips pressing against mine gently. “Yes,” he says, then kisses me softly again. And again. Like he simply can’t help himself. “If you want to…” he breathes against my mouth.
I nod, connecting my lips to his once again. A thrill rushes through me at the admission, an aching need beginning to throb deep in my core. I just know he has a lot more experience than me here, and I want him to show me.
I want him to ruin me.
Then my phone beeps. Three loud dings in quick succession.
I pull back and freeze. “Damn.”
He grins, placing one last peck on my lips before I lean over and grab my phone. He still doesn’t let go.
“Dammit. Dammit!”
“What’s wrong?” His voice is laced with concern.
One alert was for Jess’s blood-pressure monitoring. The next two are from my dad.
“Her pump isn’t working,” I murmur.
I sit back and write my dad back.
Then I realize I’m still sitting on Jameson’s lap, looking far too comfortable—the man I was grinding against a moment ago—and I scramble to climb back to the passenger side. I shove the phone into my purse and turn to him, my hand frozen on the door handle. “I have to go.”
It’s not a life or death. Her pump automatically monitors her blood sugar, and since she currently doesn’t have one, she’d have to be woken up periodically for finger pricks to test her levels, and I know she’ll hate that.
I could grab a spare from the house and drop it off, but at this point I’d rather just pick her up.
Jameson immediately nods in understanding. “Of course. Go. Is there anything I can do?”
“No…thank you. She’ll be fine,” I say, my hand still on the handle. “He was just asking if I packed another pump because the one she has on stopped working and her blood sugar was high. They just had to give her a dose of insulin the old-fashioned way.”
His brows furrow with concern and I appreciate that he seems to care, seems to want to help. “That’s so stressful. Are you sure there isn’t anything?”
I smile softly. “No. It’s my fault for not packing a backup in her bag. I thought I had, but apparently my mind is not all there this week.” I shake my head. “I never miss that.” I say, more to myself than to him.
He offers a tight-lipped smile, sympathy filling his eyes, like he feels bad but doesn’t know what else to say.
He holds my hand over his and rubs a reassuring thumb across my knuckles.
I have to admit that even though he can’t do much in this situation, having someone here for this small act of support feels… nice.
I look in his eyes one final time and flash him a smile. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I’m going to pick her up.”
He nods. “Have a good night, Carly. Maybe I can borrow you again sometime.”
My smile pulls my cheeks tighter. “Have a good night.”