Jess #2
But who cares? Who’s looking? And even if they are, maybe I want them to. Maybe I need to feel this connection again, to remember what we had, to let myself have everything I once took for granted like I never lost it at all.
It’s selfish and fucked up, but I can’t find it in me to care.
Before I can talk myself out of it, before the angel on my shoulder can get a peep out, I whip around in Jarrett’s arms, crushing my mouth to his.
He catches the kiss with intention, one hand coming to the back of my head to hold me there.
My witch hat flies off in the process, which only gives him permission to run his fingertips more through my hair, to grab the back of my skull and kiss me like it’s his chance to mark me, to claim me for good.
His arm wraps around me like a boa, squeezing tight, holding me to him so I can feel every breath, every muscle, every inch of his rock-hard length. And the moment our lips meet, I feel every memory rush back in a furious wave.
I remember that first time in his truck, and that last time in the hotel — the time I didn’t realize would be our last. I remember him caring for me when I was sick, remember him taking all my friends out for dinner, remember how every time his fingertips ran along my skin, my entire body came to life. I remember how fiercely I loved him.
And how utterly destroyed I was when he left me.
I wince against the pain that memory brings, and Jarrett seems to sense it, because he kisses me harder, slicking his tongue along my lips until I open up and let him inside.
We both moan, and I press up on my toes to get more, Jarrett’s hand sliding along my ass, my thigh until he hooks his hand behind my knee and hikes my leg up.
The kiss is deep and bruising, tied up with emotions of love and lust and pure fucking hatred.
Slowly, we start to move again, grinding to the beat with his thigh between my legs and my dress hiked up over where he holds me in place.
All of my weight is in his arms. I have no choice but to move the way he dictates, to sway the way his hands tell me to, to rub where he wants me to rub.
Holding me steadfast with one arm around the small of my back, he snakes the other one between us, sliding up my hiked leg along the tender skin of my inner thigh.
I shiver, barely breathing the words, “What are you doing?”
His only answer is a wicked grin, and then his fingertips slide up and up, higher and higher, dangerously close to where I know I’m slick for him.
Suddenly, the music is too loud. We’re too close. The kiss is too hard. My heart pounds in my chest in a warning, reminding me how much this man hurt me, reminding me how dangerous it is to play with a fire that burns so fucking cruelly.
I snap back away from his mouth, shoving my hands into his chest and pushing with all my might until he has no choice but to let me go.
I stumble backward once he no longer carries my weight, but I don’t take more than a second to watch the stunned look on his face before I’m squeezing through the crowd, running over anyone who doesn’t move at the first muttered excuse me.
I have to get out of here. I can’t do this to Kade. I can’t do this to myself.
I want him.
I want him so fucking bad it hurts.
And I love him.
I still fucking love him.
Tears sting my eyes, not just at the admission, but at the realization that the love I have for him burns just as hot as the love I have for Kade.
Someone will end up broken.
The someone who deserves it most is me.
I push and shove and tear through the thick crowd until I finally push outside, stumbling over my heels in the process. But I catch my footing, straighten my dress, fix my hair and strut on once I’m on the sidewalk. Sniffing, I keep my eyes focused forward.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I know I can’t stay still.
I hear him calling my name after a moment — softly at first before he’s jogging up and hooking my elbow to rip me around. I expect to find anger, to find a man who was cock-teased and is now pissed off about it.
What I find breaks me even more.
Jarrett must have removed the stupid red contacts he was wearing, because his natural dark brown ones are flicking between mine, brows furrowed over top of them as he searches me for where I’m hurt.
There’s nothing but care and concern and pure fucking love, and it instantly makes those tears I’ve been holding back build and rush over before I have the chance to stop them.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I laugh at that last question, which makes him frown more. Slowly, tentatively, he pulls me into him, wrapping me in a soft, sincere hug. He holds me like that for a long while, and I just let the tears come, let them soak his tunic and the street we stand on.
“Yes,” I finally breathe. “You did hurt me.”
With my head on his chest, I see the way his throat hollows out, the way a thick swallow strains his neck.
I pull back, breaking all contact and swiping at my face before I fold my arms over my middle and stand a few feet away from him.
It’s far from fall in Florida, no matter what the date on the calendar, but the nights are cooler than they were before, and the breeze chills me to the bone as I look around at the people laughing and talking as they walk by us — oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me.
“You hurt me worse than anyone ever has in my entire life,” I continue. “I loved you, Jarrett. I trusted you. I gave you everything I had to give. I put up with the long distance and the lack of communication because I knew, at the end of the day, that I wanted you — no matter the cost.”
I sniff, more tears building in my eyes that I refuse to let fall.
“And then you tossed me to the side.”
Jarrett shakes his head, pain etched in his features as he reaches for me, but I pull away.
“You did. You let them get in your head, let other people convince you I was crazy. You left me like some silly part of your past.”
“It was a mistake,” he says quickly. “The worst fucking mistake I’ve ever made. I was stupid. I was wrong.”
“All I wanted was for you to come back,” I admit on a strained whisper, rolling my lips together and shaking my head. “And now that you have, I hate that I wished for it.”
Jarrett tries reaching for me again, but I flinch away.
“I wish you’d have stayed gone. I wish you’d have never shown back up and turned my life upside down as soon as I figured out how to right it again.”
“No, you don’t.”
I cry at his words, covering my face and forcing a breath to stop the tears as much as I can before crossing my arms and lifting my chin to face him again. I don’t want to break, but goddamnit if he doesn’t undo me.
“I never left you.”
I laugh under my breath, but Jarrett moves in closer. I back away, but he doesn’t relent. He just keeps closing the space until my back is against a brick wall and his chest is touching mine.
“You’ve always had me and you know it — just like I’ve always had you.”
I swallow, staring at him through bleary eyes, but already I can feel it — my pulse quickening, thighs tightening, head pounding as every molecule of my body swirls at the way it feels to be watched by him.
“This?” he says, gesturing between us. “What we have? It’s elemental. It’s… transcendental. It doesn’t matter what happens, what mistakes we make, how much time we have apart or who might come between us.”
He shakes his head, stepping into me more, his entire body pressing against mine as his hands snake up my arms, over my neck, up my jaw to cradle my face between them.
“It’s always going to be us, Jess.” He licks his lips. “For me, it’s always going to be you.”
His mouth is on me in the next second, stealing any response I had.
And I let him take it.
Let him take all of me.
We’re in a cab back to my place less than sixty seconds later.
***
Hands.
Hands everywhere.
Grabbing my hips, my thighs, my ass, my back, my neck. Gripping my hair. Shredding my clothes.
And lips.
Lips everywhere.
On my mouth, my breasts, my neck, the sensitive skin along my inner thighs.
I might as well be drunk, or high, or in a fucking meditative state for how time passes, how I lose track of everything as that man sweeps me away to a universe all his own.
It’s all a sensory-overdrive blur until the moment he rips his briefs down.
He’s already on the prowl for me, crawling his way up the bed where I wait for him propped against the pillows. Before he can reach me, I press my toes into his chest, pushing back until he’s on his knees so I can get a good, long look.
A good, long, hard look.
A good, long, hard, perfectly shaped, perfectly thick, perfectly mine look.
Jarrett crooks a smile, tilting his head a bit. “Someone likes what they see.”
“Someone hasn’t seen it in far too long.”
In a feat of movement my brain can’t comprehend, Jarrett flips me onto my back, stands at the edge of the bed, and grabs me under the arms to drag me until my head hangs off the mattress.
“Maybe someone should taste it,” he husks, carefully moving my hair from my face and gently, tenderly tilting my head until my throat is long and exposed, head hanging completely off the bed.
Jesus fucking Christ.
He doesn’t wait for my smartass answer that I’m sure he knows I have on the tip of my tongue. Instead, he grabs his cock and presses it to my lips, arching a brow and slicking his tip along them until I grant him entrance.
The gentleness is gone.
He presses inside before I’m ready, slicking himself with my saliva as I force a breath and open my throat wide so as not to gag. He curses when he’s fully inside me, and then he’s palming my breasts, pulling out again only to slide back in nice and slow.