14. Jamison #3
She whimpered. I slid my fingers through her again, feeling every wet, hot movement as she rocked against me.
“I could slip my cock inside you right now,” I said against her ear.
Her whole body tightened. I felt it…loved it. Hated how badly I loved it.
“You’d take me, wouldn’t you?” I murmured. “You’d be good for me.”
Her eyes went wider. Too innocent for the way she was moving on my hand. I nipped her bottom lip.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Fuck.” I pressed my forehead to hers for one second. “Not tonight.”
Confusion flickered through her pleasure. I stroked her again, firmer this time, and her thoughts vanished.
“Not when I’ve been drinking this much. Our first time won’t be in the back of the car.” I kissed her mouth. “But I’m going to think about it until I go insane.”
She made a broken little sound. My hand on her hip tightened.
“Make a mess on daddy’s pants, baby,” I murmured, filthy and soft against her ear. “Come on. You can do it. Nearly there.”
Her breath caught.
“Jamison—”
“Daddy,” I corrected, quieter.
Her eyes flashed to mine. I loved how shocked she looked. Too much.
“Come on, baby.” My voice softened without permission. “Nice and slow for me. Let me enjoy it.”
She moved again, harder and messier. Her hands gripped my shoulders, trembling as I kept my fingers exactly where she needed them and guided her against me.
“That’s it,” I whispered. “Good girl. Don’t run from it.”
Her mouth opened against mine. I kissed her through it. She came with a tiny, hips jerking against my hand, thighs tightening around mine. Her body folded into me, shaking, black hair falling everywhere, breath hot against my neck.
Fuck.
I was proud.
It hit me with ridiculous force.
Proud. Like I had done something better than make a girl come in the back seat of my car while half-drunk and jealous.
No.
Not a girl.
Sienna.
My Sienna.
The thought was dangerous enough that I kissed her again to shut myself up. Slow this time. Gentler. She was relaxed in my arms after, forehead near my collar. I fixed the lace carefully, then drew the zipper back up, one slow tooth at a time.
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke. The car slowed near the Bellemere estate. Reality returned like a blade sliding between ribs.
Sienna lifted her head.
Her lipstick was ruined. Her black hair was tangled from my hands. The sight went straight to my cock again, and I had to look toward the window before I did something stupid.
The car stopped outside her house. Stone gates. Summer flowers. Lights in the upper windows.
Her world.
For now.
She smoothed her dress with unsteady hands, then looked at me.
“You’re drunk,” she said softly.
I laughed once under my breath.
“Yes.”
Her eyes moved over my face. Something vulnerable flickered there and disappeared before I could catch it.
“I’ll see you next week? At the Ashmere Regatta dinner,” she said, almost like she was reminding both of us. “Emmie said it’s Friday.”
I nodded. She reached for the door.
“Wait.”
She stopped immediately. I got out first. The summer air hit me. I rounded the car before the driver could open her door and did it myself.
Sienna looked up at me. For one second, she hesitated. Then she came to me so easily it stole the air out of my chest.
Her hand landed in mine. Sure, she could see it as me helping her stepping out in those lethal heels. That was true but what I wanted more was her hand in mine.
I helped her out. She came to me so fucking easily. Made for my arms. The thought was so strong I almost said it aloud.
I shut the car door and walked her up the path.
The Bellemere estate was lit softly, all pale stone and climbing summer flowers, pretending it had never sold a daughter to settle dead people’s debt. Her heels clicked against the path. I watched every step.
“Those heels are deadly,” I said.
She glanced down, then gave a faint smile. “I had to look the part.”
“For who?”
Her smile faltered.
“To stand beside you.”
My chest tightened so hard I nearly stopped walking. To stand beside you. I thought about every event and smile she had worn because my darkness needed something soft beside it to make strangers less afraid.
I had let her think she needed to survive me in prettier shoes. Sometimes mistakes hit you all at once. My luck the world got clearer when I was drunk. At the door, she turned toward me. For once, she looked less afraid.
“Good night, Sienna.”
Not goodbye. That mattered.
“Good night, Jamison.”
She went inside. The door closed. I stood there for another second, staring at it like a fucking idiot.
I went back to the car. The driver pulled away once I was inside.
I might see her next week.
When she got back from whatever family rooms swallowed her between now and then, the review could be done. Damius could have moved her. Weston could have a formal approach. St. Cross could be preparing a ring. Or Celeste could be standing at my side while Sienna was sent somewhere else.
She might never stand beside me again. The emotion that brought up was ugly.
I leaned back against the seat and stared out at Harlan.
I cared.
I really fucking cared.