I’m so focused on drawing I don’t hear the knocking at first. Looking at the time, it’s nearing ten at night.
I swear to God if it’s Sour-Breath Stan I’m going to smother him with a pillow.
I lay my sketchpad and charcoal pencils on top of my dresser. Looking at the palms of my hands I let out an exaggerated sigh. It’s no wonder my place always looks slightly dirty. I’m constantly getting pencil everywhere.
Crossing the apartment, which only takes a few feet, I grab the baseball I keep in case of emergencies.
But it’s no creeper when I open the door.
“Jam—”
I have no time to finish the sentence before he’s bursting into my apartment, kicking the door closed behind him with a loud bang. The baseball bat drops from my hand. He takes my face between his two large hands and holds me captive, his lips a brand on mine when they connect.
My heart comes to life, beating like I’ve just attempted an aggressive workout—which actually seems to be exactly what Jamie has in mind, based on the hard curve of his erection pressing into my stomach.
I don’t have a chance to ask him why he’s here or what he thinks he’s doing, because he keeps kissing me. I know I could push at him and he’d stop, but even if I tell myself I don’t want anything to do with Jamie, that I don’t even like him, it’s all a lie. There’s something about this man I can’t seem to quit. I hadn’t seen him hardly at all since our original tryst ended, just the occasional accidental run in if he happened to be at Lou’s apartment complex when I was there. Now he’s shown up here three times in less than a week. I’m beginning to think he can’t get me off his mind either.
His hands move from my cheeks to the back of my thighs and he lifts me up. My legs coil around his waist, pushing his erection into my center. I moan against his lips, his kiss dizzying. I feel him walking and a moment later my back is pressed against my bed. He doesn’t break the kiss, his long body leaning over mine.
My hands move up his chest and make quick work of the buttons. I shove the fabric off his shoulders and he steps away only long enough to discard the fabric like a meaningless scrap. Sadly, that shirt probably costs more than my rent.
Our kisses are frantic, the room filled with the pants of our breath.
Somewhere, deep inside my brain, my logical self is screaming at me to stop this. That I promised I would never ever go down this path again. Not with Jamie, not with any guy. I deserve more, something real.
But my horny side tells her to shut up and that I’d rather have Jamie deep inside me instead of her logicalness.
“Why are you here?” I somehow manage to ask as his hand curves around the back of my thigh, spreading my legs.
I belatedly realize how underdressed I am. Since I was home alone for the evening and would soon be going to bed, I’m only wearing a pair of panties that say epic babe on the back and a ratty pajama shirt.
Jamie seems to have a knack for showing up when I’m dressed to impress.
His left hand climbs under my shirt and he squeezes my right breast, his thumb rolling the nipple. I’m soon tearing my shirt off and he captures my taut nipple in his mouth, then pays attention to my other breast. I’ve always hated my boobs. They’re too big, saggy, and boast stretch marks, but Jamie pays that no mind. He never has. When we were doing this thing before he always told me he couldn’t get enough of my body. It’s the sexiest thing any man has ever told me.
“Why are you here?” I ask again, realizing belatedly that he hasn’t answered me.
His lips press to my neck, right at the point where my pulse jumps. “Because I needed you.”
I grip his hair in my fist, tugging him away from my skin. Not forcibly, just enough to make sure those laser-beam hazel eyes are looking at me. “Why would you need me?”
His eyes are sad, lost, even a little confused. His lips are red from our kisses and I can’t stop myself from rubbing his bottom lip with my thumb. His hand on my hip tightens, and he pulls me closer so my lower half is lined up even more with his. I can’t stop my moan at the feel of him pressing into me. I’ll never ever open my mouth and tell him this, but I haven’t had sex in eight months, not since our last time. I swore to myself I was waiting for something real, but here I am again, about to do this same bump and grind with Jamie. What is it about him I can’t quit?
“I don’t know,” he admits, and I see the truth in his eyes. He’s not lying or trying to goad me. “I just … today was a bad day, and after I put Tobias to bed, I told my mom I had to get out. Somehow I ended up here. It’s like…” He pauses and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “There’s something about you that’s addictive. I can’t seem to quit you.”
My eyes widen, my breath catching, as he throws my thoughts back to me. I don’t have time to catch them, study, and analyze them like I want to because he returns to doing delicious things to my body and I can’t think straight.
I know this is crazy. I shouldn’t be doing this with him. True, it’s just sex, but Jamie is Jamie and I should’ve never slept with him in the first place.
My thoughts are a scrambled mess inside my brain and he must sense it.
“Get out of your head. It’s just me.”
The fact that it’s Jamie should be the last thing to comfort me, but it does.
Pushing all my rational thoughts away, I let go, allowing my body absorb the pleasure.
Maybe it’s because Jamie is the only man I’ve slept with that’s significantly older than me, but no guy has ever been able to wring pleasure from my body like he can. It’s as if I’m a musical instrument and he’s the maestro.
He takes his time worshipping my body. You’d think he’d be all about his pleasure, but he’s not. I have to give him credit, he’s a very generous lover, and I think it gets him off when he can turn me on and make me come.
It feels like hours pass before we’re both completely naked and he sinks into my body.
“Oh, fuck.” My body bows off the bed at the feel of his cock inside me. “God, I forgot how big you are.”
His chuckle vibrates my skin. “You know how to stroke my ego.”
“And something else.” I swivel my hips and watch the way his length disappears in and out of me.
His hands are braced on my sides, muscles taut, veins pronounced. God, his body is incredible. Mine, by contrast, is not—at least according to magazines. My thighs are thick, my hips flared, my legs too short, my belly pudgy, and stretch marks are a road map upon my skin. But I don’t see what society calls imperfections. This is my body. It’s a living, breathing, beautiful thing.
Jamie buries his head into my neck, his voice rasping against my skin. “What is it about you? Why can’t I stay away? I always need more of you.”
He lifts my hips, changing the angle and I gasp. “You stayed away plenty long,” I pant out.
He shakes his head and his scruff rubs against me, making a scratchy sound. “It was … torture.” His breaths are laborious, his jaw clenched as he holds himself back.
“We make no sense.”
Not our words, but us. He’s twelve years older than me, he has a child, he’s a jerk. By contrast, I’m quirky and kind of weird. I’m loud and overprotective like an aggressive mama bear, and a complete free spirit. Opposites doesn’t even begin to cover what we are.
He kisses my jaw gently. “Do you feel that? Do you feel how we fit together? Do you feel how right this is? It’s not logical, but it doesn’t have to be, it just is.”
I let out a whimper, feeling him rub against my G-spot. My fingernails dig into his arms, leaving behind little half-moons. “I love your cock,” I moan, my legs shaking as my orgasm builds, ready to crest.
He looks down at me, forehead to forehead. “At least someone loves something about me.”
I have no time to process his words before we’re both coming. My orgasm seems to go on forever with little after shocks raking my body.
Sex with Jamie is always pretty fuck
ing great, but this was out of this world.
He rolls off my body and I instantly miss the weight and heat of him against me. My body is slick with sweat from our sex. He gets up and I watch his firm backside as he steps into the hall for the bathroom.
When he comes back I’m still laying where he left me. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. My body is spent.
He starts grabbing his clothes and I feel a sting in my chest.
“You’re leaving?”
He nods, yanking his pants up his long legs.
“Is it because you want to or because you have other responsibilities?”
His eyes dart over me and he pauses, his now wrinkled dress shirt clasped in his hands. “I’ve never stayed with any of my hookups.” I flinch like I’ve been slapped. His eyes soften with vulnerability. “But if I was going to stay with anyone it would be you.”
He looks my naked body over carefully, like he’s trying to memorize every dip and curve like it’s the last time he’s going to see me like this. Maybe it is, this shouldn’t have happened anyway. I don’t know why it makes me sad to think that it could truly be the last time. I’ve already went through Jamie withdrawals once, I don’t relish the idea of doing it again. But really, this needs to stop. We’re all wrong for each other and I’m looking for something real. I want what my best friend has. I deserve that kind of love, a man who worships me and looks at me like I’m everything.
Kind of like Jamie is looking at you right now?
My conscience needs to take a hike, because Jamie isn’t, and can never be, the guy for me.
He buttons his shirt and puts his shoes on, pulling his keys from his pocket. His dark brows are pulled together and he looks away, jaw ticking.
“We can’t do this again.”
I sit up on my elbows and his eyes reluctantly stray to my breasts. I swear I hear him groan. “We can’t,” I agree.
His eyes darken and his voice grows husky. “But we will.”
There’s no chance for me to utter a response before his heavy footfalls are leaving the room. A second later the door closes.
Reluctantly I get up, tossing my shirt over my body to lock the door.
I stand no chance when it comes to Jamie Miller. He’s my undoing.
8
Miranda
“Jamie fell and his penis penetrated my vagina.”
Lou spits out her coffee all over the table, causing more than a few people to turn and stare. Tanner lets out an uproarious laugh and high fives me.
“Somehow,” Lou begins slowly, her fingers wrapped tightly around her coffee cup, the nails painted pink except for each of her ring fingers, which are yellow, “I doubt that’s how it happened.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“Oh, no.” Tanner grabs onto my arm, looking at me imploringly. “You cannot leave me hanging there. I need details. My love life sucks, let me live vicariously through you.”
I pick up my own iced coffee, sipping for a bit too long. “Fine,” I drop my shoulders when they both continue to stare, “I’ll tell you.” Trying to explain to them what happened three nights ago feels impossible. I know neither of them would ever judge me, but I also know Lou doesn’t approve of Jamie, and why would she? “He showed up at my apartment and when I opened the door he bound inside, grabbed me, and kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before. It was like he was drowning and the only way he could get any air was to kiss me.”
“It sounds like he forced himself in,” Lou hedges, looking unsure.
I shake my head. “It’s not like that, trust me. I could’ve pushed him away and he would’ve let me, but … I didn’t want to.”
She exhales a sigh that sounds a lot like a groan. “Why can’t you stay away from him?”
“I don’t know,” I whine, crossing my arms on the table and burying my head between them.
Tanner rubs between my shoulders. “Don’t be ashamed.”
“I’m not.” I sit up. “I just wish I could understand it myself, it’s frustrating. Why can’t I like a normal, sweet guy?”
Tanner coughs. “Because normal sweet guys are overrated.”
“Hey,” Lou exclaims defensively.
Tanner rolls his eyes and waves his hand in dismissal. “Abel might be sweet, but he’s not normal. Not with a body like that.”
Lou snorts, but her eyes are serious as she looks at me. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about him. Do you have feelings for him?”
“No!” I blurt, more quickly than necessary. My automatic defensive response takes even me by surprise. Both Tanner and Lou give me wide-eyed expressions. I curl in on myself, trying to hide. “It’s complicated,” I decide on. “I don’t think I have feelings for him, but I don’t dislike him or this wouldn’t keep happening. Jamie and I … we’re just…” I struggle for the right words and literally grab at the air as if they’ll magically appear and I can shove them in my mouth to spit back out. “We’re just us.”
It’s a shitty explanation but it’s all I’ve got.
“I think you should go for it and not feel bad.” Tanner shrugs, taking a bite of muffin.
“I’ve already been down this path with him before. It didn’t end well.”
“What exactly happened?” Lou probes, voice soft like a concerned mother.
I roll my eyes. I’m over the whole thing, truly I am, but that doesn’t mean talking about it doesn’t sting. “We were having casual sex—exclusive sex,” I add when she opens her mouth. She promptly closes it and waits for me to continue. “And instead of telling me he was ready to move on with someone else, he rubbed some leggy blonde in my face.” I rest my elbow on the table, head in my hand as I exhale a gusty sigh. “It was rude and … it hurt my feelings. As long as we were hooking up I felt he owed it to me to say, ‘Hey, Miranda, it’s been nice fucking you. Your pussy is supreme, the best ever, but it’s time for me to move on. I’ll never find a better lay than you, but I have to try.’”
Lou snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. “You’re crazy.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Do you think you’ll hook up with him again?”
I turn to Tanner. “Well, since I didn’t intend for the other night to happen, I’d say probably.” Sipping my coffee, I draw my finger through the condensation on the table. “At least classes are starting back up soon. I’ll be too busy for this to keep happening.”
Lou laughs. “Yeah, like you were too busy last year.”
I stick my tongue out at her, but it’s a valid point. Despite my classes and workload, I still made time for Jamie.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she continues. “You’re my best friend, practically my sister.”
I snort, waving a dismissive hand like I can bat away her concern. “Getting hurt would imply I have feelings, which I don’t. It’s just sex.”
“Whatever you say.” She leans back in her chair and slurps at her coffee until it makes the annoying sound of sucking in air.
Her comment stirs something inside me.
I don’t have feelings for Jamie, right? I couldn’t possibly.
9
Jamie
I stand for a moment, watching my son on the playground with the other children from the summer day camp at his school. He doesn’t know I’m here to pick him up yet and watching him laugh, smile, and be a normal kid makes fighting for him all the more worth it.
Shannon was my high school sweetheart. I fell for her hard when I was a sophomore, but she wouldn’t give me the time of day until our senior year. We were married our junior year of college. I thought we were blissfully in love, and everything was perfect. I started working for my family and made good money. She worked as a buyer for a fancy boutique.
I found the pregnancy test by accident when I was removing the trash from the bathroom.
I didn’t say anything to her at first, afraid she was planning to s
urprise me with the happy news and didn’t want to ruin it by telling her I already knew.
But a week passed, then two, and she still didn’t tell me.
Unable to take it anymore I said something to her and was horrified when she told me she hadn’t told me because she was considering getting an abortion.
“It’s not the right time, Jamie,” she told me.
“What do you mean? This is great, a baby, we talked about having kids—”
“No, you talked about wanting to have kids. I never said I did.”
Her words were a shock to me, having been with her for nearly ten years at that point.
“You don’t want kids?” My response was surprised.
She shook her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’m not meant to be a mom, Jamie.”
I’d stared at her for a full minute before I said, “But I’m meant to be a dad.”
That was the beginning of the end for us. She ended up deciding, obviously, to keep the baby—mostly because I begged and pleaded for our child’s life. She became even more withdrawn when an ultrasound revealed Tobias had an atrial septal defect. In layman’s terms, a hole in his heart. By the time she was eight months pregnant she served me with divorce papers.
When Tobias was born, she didn’t even hold him.
After he was clean and swaddled, he was given to me. “Congratulations, Dad,” one of the nurses told me, giving Shannon a dirty look.
I took Tobias home and was immediately a single father, taking care of an infant facing open-heart surgery. I’m the one who stayed up with him when he cried. I fed him. Changed him. Burped him. Loved him.
Shannon was going to sign over her rights, he was going to be mine without any hassle. Our divorce would be final and we’d go our separate ways.
But then she learned how much money she’d get from me with child support. Whether she figured it out on her own or if someone mentioned it to her, I’ll never know. That’s when things got nasty and we spent months in court. Most judges always side with the mother, even when they’re a piece of shit, but somehow this judge saw Shannon for what she really is and awarded me sole custody.
Desperately Seeking Landlord Page 4