Chapter 13 Hestia #2
‘Oh, hey,’ I said, giving him a smile and resisting a sudden self-conscious urge to hide my make-up-free face, my wet hair slicked back from it.
With a quick check down the hall to the rest of the house beyond, he strode across the kitchen and without a word, gently took my face in his hand, kissing me.
Only just remembering to hold onto the bottle, the fridge door hanging open, I felt myself dissolve into him. His mouth was soft against mine, his movements gentle, but the urgency behind his kiss . . . the force I always felt around him, pulled tighter than ever.
‘Hey,’ he replied as we parted, his voice rough as he held my gaze. ‘I’ve been waiting for that all day.’
I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against his for a moment, feeling the now familiar sensation of wanting more – to stay next to him, safe against his body – warring with my recent thoughts of what it would mean to say goodbye.
I swallowed, hard.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ I murmured instead, forcing myself back. ‘You want a drink?’
I gestured to the bottle, not missing the slight puckering of his brow as he made his way to the sink and began washing his hands, the foam from the soap turning black as he scrubbed.
‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘You all good?’
I nodded, beckoning him to follow me as he finished up, taking another bottle and leading him back down the hall to my room. Bailey was out tonight, Lottie and Cole already crashed out in his room.
He followed, crossing the threshold slowly, eyes not leaving me as I closed the door behind us. Grabbing the two items I’d bought for him off the bed, as our eyes met again, I was suddenly aware this was the first time we’d been alone in a bedroom together.
‘I got you something,’ I said, careful to keep an arm’s length between us, just for now. ‘Well, two things.’
‘Okaaay,’ he replied, smiling as I handed over a small paper bag and a gift bag. Then, with a glance to my bathrobe, he added, ‘I’ve got something for you, too.’
He delved into the paper bag, drawing out a small brown bottle and squinting at the label.
‘Arnica oil,’ I said softly, daring to step closer, running a hand over his left shoulder. His eyes shot to my face at the touch, flaring. ‘I’ve seen you wincing a little, am I right? Guessing you hurt it last weekend?’
He said nothing for a moment, studying me.
‘You got this for me?’
I rolled my eyes.
‘I don’t know anyone else stupid enough to get thrown around on a wild, three-thousand-pound animal and do fuck knows what to their body,’ I retorted, unable to hold back from returning his smile in response. ‘You put a few drops in the bath. It’ll help your bruising heal, tone down the aching.’
‘Your bath?’ he asked, stepping into the remaining space between us, forcing me to tilt my head right back to maintain eye contact.
‘If you like,’ I breathed, feeling my body respond, suddenly desperate for him to remove my robe, his clothes.
He made a rumbling sound in his throat as he reached into the gift bag, pulling out a small, tissue-wrapped object.
‘And what’s this?’
I shrugged as he unwrapped it.
‘I’m new to this whole buckle bunny business,’ I murmured as the metal inside glinted in the low lights of the bedroom. ‘But I thought of you when I saw it . . . and me. Well, us.’
The tissue fell to the floor as he freed the skull belt buckle. He turned it over for a moment, running his thumb over the skull as he looked back at me. His eyes had become molten, just as they had been in the truck.
‘You thought of us?’ he asked slowly, softly, as though afraid saying the words again might render them to dust.
I nodded, too afraid to say more, knowing with every cell that he was feeling the same as I was in that moment. He leant down slightly, his lips coming to brush mine.
‘I fucking love it,’ he whispered, his tongue tracing my lower lip as my mouth opened to him. ‘I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but it’s beautiful. Thank you, Jessica.’
We fell into another kiss, fuelled by my insistence this time, pulling him to me and letting the feelings wash over the thoughts and doubts that whirled in my head. As I scraped my nails over his existing belt buckle, threatening to take it off, he smiled.
‘Hold up there,’ he breathed, circling my waist and moving us back onto the bed, letting me fall back, holding himself over me. ‘I said I had something for you before the belt comes off.’
On the verge of grabbing him and forcing him back into our kiss, instead I inhaled as he gently undid the tie on my robe and opened it out, running his fingers over my breasts and down, not stopping until they slipped between my thighs and I gasped again.
‘Oh fuck, honey,’ he moaned, feeling just how wet I’d become.
‘What something do you have for me?’ I asked breathlessly, barely able to breathe as he began to circle his fingers there.
‘The promise I made in the truck,’ he whispered, leaning down to kiss my jaw. I arched my neck to his touch as his fingers slid into me.
‘Oh, holy shit . . .’ I moaned, unable to help myself as he made his way down my body, pausing at my breasts. ‘Get your clothes off, now.’
He chuckled, making slow, painfully wonderful small circles with his fingers inside me.
‘Not yet, sweetheart.’
And slowly, using one arm to hold me down, his mouth reached my hips, nipping and kissing the skin as he worked across, joining his fingers with his tongue.
In less than a minute I was barely in control, coming hard as he fucked me with his hand, giving me only another minute to pause, stroking the inside of my thigh as I tried to breathe before he began again.
Ignoring my half-hearted protest and insistence on being fucked properly, this time he just used his mouth.
So gentle at first, growing more insistent as I felt myself building up again.
‘I want you,’ I murmured, running my fingers through his hair.
But he ignored me, instead using his tongue inside me until I came again, only partly stifling a cry with my arm over my face.
‘Now,’ he murmured, the sound of his belt buckle finally opening, the zip following.
I watched, eyes half-closed, as he took off his shirt, his jeans and boxers dropping together as he shrugged everything off.
‘I’m willing to wait to use this,’ he said, gripping his cock.
‘So if you’ve had enough, or it’s too much . . .’
‘Don’t you dare go anywhere,’ I breathed, my core muscles having long melted into the bed, preventing me from sitting up to reach it myself. ‘Now fuck me properly.’
His eyes wild, he leant back over me, using his hands to turn me gently until I was on my front, pulling my hips back up towards him.
‘Don’t be gentle,’ I hissed as he teased the end of his cock against me, wanting him, needing him to . . .
I gasped as he entered me, no hint of gentle touch. He slammed against me and I cried out with him, impatiently waiting for him to do it again, and again, and again.
‘I don’t know if I’ll ever have the patience to fuck you slowly,’ he moaned as I stifled a cry again, his movements becoming rougher, his fingers inching forward to stroke me around his cock.
‘Jesse,’ I moaned, only half aware of what I was saying. ‘Don’t ever stop – I only want you.’
He came in the same moment, the sensation of his cock pumping into me as he finished. We collapsed together, just breathing into the cotton sheets as I tried to piece my thoughts back together.
‘Did you mean that?’ he murmured a minute later, turning his head towards me, the skin above his cheekbones flushed.
I knew what he meant; I could still feel the truth of it etched into every pore of my skin. But now, in the quiet calm, it took on new meaning.
I nodded, just holding his gaze as he moved closer to my face, his lips now brushing mine with such care, such a worshipful touch, that I was suddenly terrified of what he might say.
‘Want me to run us a bath?’ I said, jumping in before he could say anything else. At his raised eyebrow, I added, ‘I could fuck you all day, cowboy, but even I need a break in between.’
He chuckled, nodding.
I half expected the bath to turn into an action replay, but instead it felt . . . relaxing. He told me about his day and I reciprocated, lying back against him, my head resting on his shoulder.
‘What’s your real hair colour?’ he asked suddenly, continuing to twirl strands of it.
I laughed at the realization.
‘Actually, it’s not dissimilar to your hair colour,’ I said, turning back to see his face. ‘A kind of dark, dirty blonde.’
‘The best kind,’ he murmured, running a finger over my chest, around the outline of the headless horseman. ‘And I still haven’t had a full tat tour,’ he noted. ‘The first time I see you fully naked, and I don’t know what half of it means.’
I laughed, gripping the sides of the bath and slowly standing in front of him, watching as his expression became hungry again.
‘There’s too many . . .’ I said, slowly turning, shivering as his hands reached up to hold my hips, running down my legs, eyes everywhere – from my ass to the viper that wound around the back of my left thigh, circling down to my calf.
Looking back to him, I stilled. He said nothing, hands still on my lower legs, but his expression screamed everything I knew I felt too.
‘Would you do one for me?’ he asked suddenly, his eyes on my wrist, the white Norse compass on the inside. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
Barely half an hour later, the small desk in the corner of the room pulled out, my borrowed kit cleaned and prepped, we sat opposite each other.
‘So you don’t mind me free-handing this? I can stencil it?’ I offered, eyebrows raised as he shook his head, offering his upturned arm on the desk.
‘I trust you, Jessica. Besides, I’ve stalked you online. I know how good you are.’
I couldn’t help laughing, his sheepish expression giving way to a beautiful smile.
‘Okay . . . well, I’ll do my best. But you’re going to need to hold completely still for this, and I’ll warn you, the inner wrist gets fucking sore. I’ll go as quick as I can.’
He nodded briefly, watching as I reached for my gloves.
‘It’s so painful that I actually think you might need some help,’ I added, unable to deny myself the amusement, justifying that it might actually work . . . kind of.
So as I shrugged my robe off my shoulders, letting it fall to my waist, he barely noticed as I gently took his wrist and, prepping the ink, got to work.
He simply stared for a moment, his eyes, his whole attention entirely focused on my breasts.
‘What are you trying to do to me?’ he asked hoarsely as I followed the faint outline of the pen I’d used to give a rough idea of the design just minutes ago.
‘Distract you,’ I replied softly, concentrating just as resolutely. ‘Never done it half-naked before, might check with Lottie, see if it could be a new marketing tactic.’
He barely laughed, still too fixed on me to respond properly.
‘So why this design, why here?’ I asked, shifting my grip slightly, taking the next bit a little more slowly, all too aware of the increased margin for error.
The design he’d requested – the same cow’s skull as the design on my T-shirt, wreathed in flames – was small, but not without a fair bit of detail.
He shifted his gaze to my face, then to the emerging design on his skin.
‘I wanted something of you,’ he said simply, holding my eyes in his as I stopped, looking up. ‘Your skull design and . . . your flames. And right here, on my wrist . . . I want to see it. Every day. I want the reminder of you . . . if you’re not here.’
A lump gathered in my throat as I forced myself back to work, not daring to say another word as I continued.
Eventually the quiet between us settled, just as it had in the bath. I’d finished within the hour, allowing myself to smile as I triple checked it, setting aside the machine so I could wrap it gently.
‘Do you like it?’ I asked, strangely nervous as he held it out.
We were both standing, me still naked. He didn’t answer until he reached me, his right arm circling my waist.
‘I love it,’ he murmured, kissing my nose first, finding my mouth moments later.
‘Don’t go,’ I whispered as he drew back, aware that it was late, with another full day ahead in not many hours. ‘Stay here, with me.’
He did. And with creeping exhaustion, curled around each other, I watched as he finally fell asleep. I waited a few moments, eyes heavy in the darkness, as his breathing softened, his hands still on my skin. When I kissed him softly on the forehead, he didn’t stir.
‘Jesse,’ I whispered, tears instantly springing forward, falling onto the pillow as I closed my eyes, ‘I think . . . I’m in love with you.’