Chapter Forty-Four
Jo
“ I need to take a shower. I would invite you, but I know you’re sore and I don’t trust myself to behave.” He rolls off the bed until he’s sitting on the edge.
We collapsed in exhaustion next to each other for about an hour.
He even texted Seiver and Hayes to let them know he wouldn’t be available until later.
The man who never takes a day off wanted to spend the morning in bed with me.
“I’m too tired to move anyway.” I giggle, and he tilts his head to the side to smile at me.
I reach out and trace the tattoo of claw marks tearing down his left shoulder blade.
“Be right back.” He murmurs after my fingertips drop to the bed.
I can’t believe all that we’ve done since last night.
I finally feel like a real woman, taking control of my life and enjoying the touch of a man.
A man of my choosing.
I flip onto my side, snuggling into the blankets, when a paper catches my eye.
It’s upside down on his nightstand, and when I turn it over, I smile.
He drew me.
I’m naked, posed sensually with my hands in my flowing hair, and my back arched, accentuating my hips.
The same hips that probably have bruises from his fingertips because he never wants to let them go.
Maybe he’ll let me keep this one.
A shrill honk sounds from outside, making me jump.
I crawl out of bed to inspect, recognizing the car and the person in it instantly.
Dread fills me as I scramble to find something to put on, but all I had when I came over here was my silk robe, and it’s still on the bathroom floor.
I snatch Lochlan’s T-shirt and boxers off the floor and hurtle myself down the stairs, slamming into the door before swinging it open.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
Her sneer deepens immediately upon setting her eyes on me.
I didn’t check the mirror, but I’m sure I look crazy.
“I came to save my daughter from this barbarian, but I can see you’ve already ruined yourself for him.”
“Don’t call him that.” I might not have much of a backbone when it comes to the woman who birthed me, but I’ll stand tall for my fiancé.
Fake fiancé.
“Look at you! You’re a disgrace already.”
“I’m not.”
“What do you think you’re doing? Honestly. Do you think this man is going to give you a good life? Provide for you? He lives in a farmhouse for Christ’s sake. This isn’t you!”
“ You don’t get to tell me who I am. You have no idea who I am.”
For the first time in my life, I feel confident and happy with myself.
I have no desire to seek her approval, and I don’t care if she dislikes me.
I don’t need her .
“You can tell Dad and Conrad I won’t be attending any more events. You can consider me no longer a part of your family.”
“You’ve turned into a whore and lost your mind.”
My head jerks to the side as if I’ve been slapped.
I know it isn’t true, but hearing her say that so crudely is like pouring alcohol on an open wound.
“Get the fuck off my property,” Lochlan’s voice booms from the top of the stairwell.
His steps are slow and calculated as he descends the stairs.
He’s only wearing a towel around his waist, and his hair is still wet from his shower, but he looks as menacing as always.
“I could kill you for taking her from us!” She seethes through her teeth.
Suddenly, I realize she’s the ugliest woman alive.
“Then you better bring an army,” he says over my shoulder, grabbing the door and slamming it in her face.
I stare at the stained wood until it’s nothing but a brown blur before my eyes.
“The first thing I’m doing when we get the money from my grandmother’s paintings is to get a gate that doesn’t open for anyone.”
I ignore his words, walking over to the mirror on the other side of the room to stare at myself.
My hair is messy and the curls have fallen loose, my makeup has mostly faded away, and I’m wearing Lochlan’s clothes.
She called me a whore, but I didn’t feel like one until she said it.
I felt cared for and cherished, not used.
“Am I a whore?” My insecurities are forging forward, and the peace from this morning evaporates the longer I look at my reflection.
“What? Of course, not.”
“She makes me feel so disgusting. All I can see are my flaws.” I palm my stomach, dragging his shirt up and out of the way to look at the softness that I’ve always wished was toned.
My forearm pushes my breasts that are too heavy, higher.
If I rotate my leg the light catches the cellulite in my thighs and my calves that are too wide.
A large hand covers my stomach, drawing my focus there.
“I’m not a man who knows much, but I know you are a woman who has no business worrying about her flaws.”
“Of course, I should. If I know what they are, then I can hide them or pay to fix them. I’ve had a spray tan twice a month for almost a decade to hide imperfections, my eyebrows are micro-bladed to fit my face perfectly, and my mother made sure my entire body was lasered hairless when I turned 18. Spanx and–”
“What are Spanx?”
“The shapewear that you ripped off me at that event.”
“That shit does not belong on your body.”
“It flattens my stomach in tight dresses.”
“That. Shit. Doesn’t. Belong. On. Your. Body.” He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
“You’re practically wearing a potato sack with my shirt on, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how much I want to fuck you.”
My breath hitches in my chest.
“I look terrible, right now.”
“No, you look like a gorgeous woman with bed head, wearing my clothes. It doesn’t matter what’s on the outside, you’re still perfect.”
“No, I’m not.” I shake my head in disbelief, refusing to meet his gaze in the mirror.
“Are you disgusted by me?” He tilts my chin back to center, forcing me to look at him.
“No,” I respond in astonishment.
“Do these change your mind?” He points to the scars on his face.
“What? No.”
“What about these?” He rotates his hands, showing his cracked skin and calluses.
“No, I like your hands.” My cheeks flush pink in my reflection.
He steps back, and I turn to face him.
“Do these bother you?” He points to old stretch marks under his shoulder where his armpit and outer chest meet.
“Of course, not.”
“Does this disgust you?” He pinches the roundness of his nearly firm stomach.
I shake my head and he drags an old wooden chair over that was sitting next to the wall, dropping down on it and jiggling the evidence of his beer intake.
“How about now?”
“No, you know that it doesn’t.”
He loosens his towel suddenly, exposing himself to me fully.
His dick is hard and heavy, and stands to his bellybutton as he reaches down to cup himself.
My throat is dry as I try to swallow, watching him spread his knees wide.
“Would you have rubbed your perfect little pussy all over my cock earlier if you knew I had these?”
There are faint purple lines between his thighs from where his muscles have grown and stretched over the years that it took him to become this large and imposing man of the mountain .
“Yes, I would have.” I shuffle towards him until my toes touch his.
“Because none of that stuff changes how I see you,” I admit, reluctantly, understanding his point.
“There isn’t a single part of you that should change, Jo. No matter how long you pick yourself apart in the mirror, no one will ever compare to you, whether you believe it or not.”
I don’t believe him, not even a little bit, but if I could see myself through his eyes, maybe I wouldn’t hate what I see so much.
“You’re pretty good at this fake fiancé stuff.” I nudge his knee with mine, too shy to look at him.
“That’s because it isn’t fake fiancé stuff.” He stands up suddenly, tipping my chin to look at him.
Our bodies are hardly separated and his cock is stiff against my belly.
“All I know how to do is be honest. That’s what this is.”
“Can I be honest about something?” I glance up at him because I can’t stop looking at his hard length between us, but I don’t wait for his answer.
“I want to know how it feels to touch you.”
“Jo,” he warns.
“I want to experience life on my own terms, Lochlan. I want to do this.”
“I don’t deserve any more of your firsts. If you want to know how it feels to touch a man, then you should wait.”
“No, not a man. You.”
His cock jumps, but his eyes squeeze shut and a mix of emotions sweep across his face.
“And, if I say no?”
“I guess I can go ask one of the guys in the bunk–”
His hands wrap around my head in the blink of an eye, tangling into my hair and backing me up until my butt hits the back of the couch.
“Finish that sentence, I dare you,” he grumbles as his hardness digs into my stomach.
“I told you, I don’t share. Fake fiancé or not. If you’re doing any experimenting, it’s with me.”
“Then let me touch you.” I peer into his eyes, silently begging him to give himself a break.
He’s the only one who thinks he’s undeserving.
“I want it to be you.”
He nods almost imperceptibly, and I grab the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing, but he stops me.
“Don’t take anything off. If you’re naked then I’ll have you bent over the couch with your virginity all over my cock before I can think straight,” he grits through his teeth making me shiver.
I glance down at the intimidating monster between us.
When I was grinding on him earlier, it wasn’t as scary because my body knew what to do.
I was doing it for my own pleasure, and my hips knew how to move to take it.
This is very different.
“What do I do?”
“Anything you want, darlin’. There isn’t a thing you could do wrong.”
I bring the pad of my pointer finger to his crown, ever so softly circling the rich skin.
I expected it to feel firm or tight, but it’s smooth like the softest butter.
He sucks air in through his nostrils at my contact, fighting to maintain his composure as I explore down his length, traveling over every vein and memorizing them.
“Would I be able to feel these inside of me?” I ask, honestly.
His fingers curl tighter into my hair at the base of my scalp.
“Not sure.” His voice is raw, each word like gravel escaping his throat.
“Should I hold it like this?” My hand circles the underside of his girth, my thumb over the top, nearly touching the tip of my middle finger.
“Yes.”
“Would it even fit inside of me?”
“It’d fit.” I glance up at him, but he shakes his head.
“That’s still a no, darlin’.”
“You have impeccable self-control, boss,” I murmur, moving my light grip down to his base and back to his crown, how I’d assume a man would jerk off, forcing a strained breath from his chest.
One of the hands in my hair slides down my back until it snakes inside his boxer shorts that I’m wearing and he grabs a handful of my butt cheek, squeezing it hard.
“And, you’re close to being punished, darlin’.”