by Reese Ryan
“Oh? And why is that?” Miles widened his own stance and crossed his arms.
“Me and James...we go way back. She means a lot to me. So I wouldn’t take kindly to anyone who was just fucking with her head.”
Miles watched the man. His gut reaction was to tell the guy to go fuck himself. But there was something about his demeanor. It was a cross between an overly protective big brother and a jealous former lover. He seemed to genuinely care about Jamie, and from their conversation that night he gathered Ex was pretty important to her, too. Maybe it wasn’t the traditional setup, but every guy knew if you were serious about a girl, you had to make a good impression on her friends. So he bit his tongue.
“I care very much for her,” Miles assured him. “I’d never purposely do anything to hurt her. Trust me.”
“Why? Because you said so?” Ex snorted. “I don’t know you, partner. So that don’t mean shit to me. You don’t know me either, but believe me when I tell you I’d do anything to protect her. Even from herself.”
Miles clenched his teeth and tightened both fists. He let out a deep breath and kept his voice even. “Then you’re a good friend, and I won’t forget what you said. But don’t forget what I said either. Because I meant it as much as you did.” Miles turned and headed up the drive. He called over his shoulder. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep our little midnight chat between us.”
* * *
“Mind if I take a shower?” Miles unzipped his bag, balanced on a trunk at the foot of her bed.
She’d already climbed into bed. “Just let me know if you need anything.”
He ducked into the bathroom and undressed, surveying the long, narrow clawfoot tub made of solid cast iron, painted black on the outside. He smiled. Of course. She wouldn’t have gone for a traditional color like white.
Miles yanked his sweater over his head and tossed it on top of the hamper. He slipped out of the rest of his clothing, turned on the water and stepped into the shower. While he was lathering himself the curtain was suddenly yanked back. He jumped.
Jamie laughed. “Who’d you think it was? Norman Bates?” She pulled her T-shirt and bra over her head, wriggled out of her shorts and stepped into the shower.
“I thought you were sleepy.” He smiled.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his back. “Suddenly I’m not so sleepy anymore.”
* * *
Their attempt to make love in a slippery clawfoot tub that was narrow and too far from any usable wall was comical at best. Sex was not only impossible, but dangerous. Still, she found another way to make their first shower together at her place memorable.
Jamie dropped to her knees in the tub, her hands gripping the base of his cock as she traced the tip with her tongue. He let out a little moan and braced his feet against the sides of the tub. He’d nearly fallen twice already; he didn’t want a concussion to interrupt what she was doing now.
She ran her tongue along the ridge underneath, and he murmured something even he couldn’t understand. When she took the tip into her warm mouth it sent a jolt of electricity up his spine. She swirled her tongue around the head of his shaft, as her hands slid up and down his growing length.
When she opened her mouth and took him in deeper, he let out a strangled moan. He tangled his fingers in her hair, careful not to force her head toward him, despite every muscle in his body screaming for him to do just that.
She was a fucking master at this. His body trembled, pleasure building, as she sucked him, her hand moving over the tight skin of his scrotum. Near his pinnacle, he tried to pull away, but her eyes met his and a wicked grin crinkled the corners of her eyes as she gripped his ass, pulling him in deeper.
He cursed, body trembling, cock convulsing, her eyes never leaving his.
He turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to the bed, both of their bodies soaking wet. He was desperate to be inside her, but first, he’d return the favor.
Laying her on the bed, he spread her legs. She’d been as turned on by her performance as he had. The lips of her sex were swollen with desire, her opening slick with her want. His dick twitched as he dove his tongue in, desperate for a taste of her.
“Mmm...” A low, purring sound vibrated through her chest as she dug her heels into the mattress.
He slid his tongue in deeper, savoring her addictive taste—both salty and sweet. Slipping two fingers inside her, he watched the intense satisfaction reflected on her gorgeous face as she gripped the bedding, her legs trembling. She was almost there. He swirled his tongue across her hardened clit as she writhed in ecstasy, bucking her hips toward him.
He licked and fingered her, increasing his speed in response to her commands to “Go faster” or “More, there, right there.” Her walls clenched, gripping his fingers, her body shivering. He smiled with satisfaction. She was sprawled across the bed, hair everywhere, skin dewy, completely spent. She forced her knees together, rolling back and forth slightly as she gasped for breath.
He laid kisses along her shoulder, then cradled her body against his, pulling the cover over them. “Not a bad way to kick things off at your place.”
She opened her eyes and touched his cheek, gazing at him for a moment. “There is one more thing I’d like you to do.” Her voice was quiet, their faces barely an inch apart as she spoke.
“Anything. Just name it.”
She licked her lips and took a deep breath, her hand still on his cheek. “Make love to me.”
Miles’s eyes widened as he studied her face, his heart beating faster. He was crazy about her and felt the connection between them growing deeper every day, but sometimes it felt like she was trying her hardest to maintain a wall between them that kept their relationship physical, never emotional.
He’d been trying desperately to break through that wall, but whenever he removed a brick, she’d put two back in its place. Now, maybe she was ready to take a few bricks out of that wall herself.
He swallowed hard. The sound of his own heartbeat filled his ears. Those four little words sent his heart soaring. He lifted himself on one elbow and placed his mouth on hers. The moment didn’t require words.
* * *
Jamie lay back as Miles kissed her, his tongue gliding between her parted lips. She could taste the saltiness of her own essence on his lips, soft and sweet. Palms pressed into his back, she moved against him.
Kissing could either be done out of carnal passion—a simple precursor to sex—or a deeply emotional expression of intimacy. She’d favored the former and avoided the latter. Until now. Kissing, like this, intimated affection, an emotion she’d eluded at all costs. Before Miles, she’d only wanted a man to satisfy her lust. She had no desire for intimacy. Yet that was exactly what she wanted from Miles, to connect with him in a way that was far deeper than the joining of their bodies. The slow build of their relationship created a need that hadn’t been there before. She craved his attention, his conversation, his affection. The yearning she felt for him was exhilarating and terrifying. Being with him made her happy. Her brain recounted all the reasons she shouldn’t allow herself to feel this way, but her heart believed that she could be this girl. The kind of girl who could eventually fall in love.
He kissed her with a passion that made her come completely undone. She could barely stand to be separated from his body when he tore his mouth away from hers and rummaged through his bag for a condom and put it on.
A hum of deep satisfaction escaped her throat in response to the delicious sensation of him filling her.
He made love to her, slow and sweet, bringing her body intense pleasure. She’d let go, giving in to the feeling, like she’d actually become a part of him. For once, she wasn’t in control, but she didn’t need to be—in his arms she felt safe. She relished the feeling of him owning her body, mind and soul. Uninhibited pleasure rocked her from her core and awakened every nerve in her body. But he’d touched something deep inside her, someth
ing she couldn’t name, that she hadn’t even known was there.
Afterward, they lay together—a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs—trying to catch their breath. He rolled onto his back, pulling her against him as he kissed the top of her head. She settled against him, her ear pressed to his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed. When he’d drifted off to sleep, she drew a heart over his and pressed her lips to his chest.
Chapter Fourteen
Jamie strolled into the kitchen, her bare feet sticking to a spot where she must’ve spilled juice the night before while making drinks for her and Miles. He’d been long gone to work by the time she woke up that morning, but he’d left a note saying he missed her already. Her mouth stretched in an involuntary smile. You’re not twelve. Get a grip already. She let out a sigh and grabbed the coffee carafe Miles had bought. He couldn’t believe that she didn’t own a coffeemaker, that she was perfectly okay with instant.
“You’re being a snob,” she’d teased.
“This isn’t a matter of snobbery,” he’d retorted. “For God’s sake. It’s inhuman not to have real coffee in the morning. Believe me, you would not like me without my morning cup of coffee.” He’d kissed her in that sweet, teasing way that made her feel all giggly and warm inside. She loved and hated it.
Thinking of the kiss, and of him, she touched her cheek. She missed him already, too. What was happening between her and Miles was magical and confounding, beautiful yet terrifying. Someone who made you feel like you’re soaring, weightless, held the power to bring you crashing back to earth, shattering into a million pieces.
Jamie poured herself a cup of coffee then splashed in some creamer. She took a sip. Miles was right. This was nothing like the freeze-dried crap she’d been drinking. She’d give him that.
She took her cup into the studio and set it on the desk. Opening the curtains, she lifted the shades. It was bright and beautiful outside, despite the freezing temperature.
She surveyed the new painting of Miles she’d started. He’d posed for her at the Chinese Cultural Gardens. Jamie loved the cultural gardens. Each garden was dedicated to and maintained by a different ethnic group. Her favorites were the bi-level Italian Garden with its renaissance-style fountain on one level, a curvy staircase leading down to the lower level and the double shell fountain set in a thirty-foot-high masonry wall, and the elaborate Chinese Garden with its lovely marble veranda and statue of Confucius, where so many brides chose to get married.
When she’d taken Miles to see her favorite gardens he’d enlisted a stranger to take photos of them. She’d elbowed him in the ribs and whispered, “What if this guy’s a thief?”
“He’s, like, ninety,” Miles had whispered back, still smiling at the man who could barely make heads or tails of the camera on Miles’s cell phone.
“So?” she’d whispered back, also smiling at the old man. “That could be his game.”
Miles had broken out laughing. He put his arm around her and said, “Smile.”
Jamie scanned the photos she’d clipped to the easel for inspiration while she painted. She didn’t need them, since she planned to paint the gardens in spring, not winter. Still, they were a nice memory, and she couldn’t deny they made her happy.
She opened her paints, got out her brushes and started to work on the trees surrounding the garden.
* * *
Jamie had been working on the painting for a little more than two hours when her doorbell rang. She groaned and considered ignoring it, but then the bell rang again, longer this time. Whoever it was better have a damn good reason for interrupting her. Did Michelangelo have to put up with this shit?
Closing her paints, she wiped her fingers on a rag and trudged down the cold steps. She swung open the door. A cold wind greeted her, but she was too frozen to move. “What are you—I mean, how’d you...”
“Ms. Ellie gave me your address so I could write to you, since you won’t return my calls.” Jo’s voice was small and quiet. “I thought maybe I should come see you instead.”
Jamie opened her mouth to tell Josephine there was a reason she hadn’t returned any of her calls when the door behind her opened. It was the downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Jacobs. A nice enough old bird, but nosy and full of opinions.
“Oh, Jamie, that’s you. I wondered where all that cold air was coming from. Well, don’t just stand there letting the heat out. Invite your friend in.” It was no mere suggestion.
“Sorry, Mrs. Jacobs.” Jamie stepped aside to let Jo in the door. “I didn’t realize the air drifted into your apartment.”
Mrs. Jacobs wasn’t listening to her. Instead, she strained her eyes to study Josephine’s face. “My goodness, that’s your mother, isn’t it, child?” She clapped her hands against her thighs. “I mean, I know you told me that Mrs. Gordon raised you and all, but that’s your real mother. I can see it in her face. You look just like her.”
Jamie’s cheeks grew hot. She wasn’t sure what made her angrier, that Mrs. Jacobs was being nosy again or that she’d said she looked like Jo. The last time someone had said that she was about ten. “Yes. This is my biological mother.” Jamie mashed the words out between gritted teeth. “She’s in town for a little bit and she stopped by to say hello. Isn’t that right...Mom?” It nearly made her sick to say the word. She forced a smile anyway.
The corners of Jo’s eyes were damp. She nodded, a crooked smile on her face.
“Well, why don’t you two come in and sit for a bit. I have donuts and I can put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Jacobs.” Jamie took a few steps toward the woman and smiled. “That’s sweet of you, but I was working on a painting and Jo...I mean, my mother isn’t staying long. Maybe we can take a rain check until next time?”
The woman nodded and then whispered to Jamie, “My daughter never stays very long when she visits either. We’ll talk later.” Mrs. Jacobs patted Jamie’s hand and went back inside her apartment. She turned and called over her shoulder toward Jo, “You try to get that girl of yours to wear some pants and shoes in the wintertime, will you? She’s gonna catch her death of cold, traipsing around in hot pants and bare feet.”
Jamie let out a sigh then turned to Jo, who was standing in the corner with her back against the wall like a frightened cat. “You coming?”
Jo followed Jamie up the stairs to her apartment. Once inside she dropped in a chair panting. “It’s been a long time since I had to walk up that many steps.”
“You get used to it.” She took a seat on the couch across from the woman and waited for her to say something.
“Nice place.” Josephine looked around as she struggled out of her jacket—the one Jamie had left in the café for her that day. It looked clean. She’d been staying somewhere warm and clean at night. “How long you been here?”
“A few years.” Jamie folded one leg underneath her on the couch and waited.
“Well, it’s nice,” Josephine said again, sitting straight as a board in the comfy chair. Her posture was more like that of a woman who’d been called to answer for her crimes than a woman visiting her daughter.
“Thanks.” Jamie’s eyes were trained on Jo’s face, searching for any indication of the reason for her visit.
“Is that coffee I smell?” Josephine inhaled like a beagle. “Smells like hazelnut.”
“Would you like a cup?” Jamie offered, despite an internal groan that advised her against making Jo feel at home.
“Please. And if you have any cream, I’d like just a tad. And some sugar.”
Jamie went to the kitchen to get Josephine’s coffee, relieved not to be sitting across from her, if only for a moment. “So, what brings you here?” she asked finally as she handed the chipped mug to her mother.
“Thank you.” Jo took the cup and inhaled. “Smells delicious.” She took a sip. “Tastes good, too.” A small smile was perched on her lips.
“Jo,” Jamie said again, her patience stretching like the elastic on Mrs. Jacobs’s pants. “Why a
re you here?”
Jo tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and put her cup on the coffee table, nearly spilling it. She wiped her hands on her jeans. “I wanted to see you, to make sure you’re okay. You’re my kid. I care about you.”
“I’m fine.” Jamie’s voice came out louder than she’d intended. “Ellie and Lou did a damn good job taking care of me after you and your boyfriend split. So you don’t need to feel guilty or whatever. I’m good.”
“Maybe on the outside, but what about here?” She tapped two fingers to her chest. “You’re still angry—” Jamie lifted her eyes to Josephine and opened her mouth, but the woman raised her hand and continued before Jamie could speak. “You have every right to be angry with me, and with your father. But it’s not healthy to keep all that anger bottled up. It destroys you and ruins everything and everyone you touch. I don’t want that to happen to you. You’re such a beautiful girl. I want you to be happy.”
“Don’t you dare come in here and talk to me about being happy, Jo.” The way Jamie spat her name made it sound synonymous with dirt. “It’s been fifteen years...and now you care whether or not I’m happy?”
“I know you’re hurt. I was just as angry with my mother when I was your age. It ruined my life and then I...I ruined yours.”
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re running here, but if you really came for money or something, just say it.” Jamie sprang to her feet and paced, her hands in tight fists at her side. “Don’t pretend like you give a shit about me.”
“I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But this ain’t about money. You’re my daughter, Jamie. I want what’s best for you. You have to believe me.”
“No, I don’t.” Jamie swung around to face her. “I haven’t believed a word you’ve said since I was five years old. So don’t tell me what I have to do.”
Josephine’s eyes brimmed with sadness, her face etched with regret. “You’re right. I gave up my rights as a mother the day I let you move in with Ellie. But letting you go then was the best thing I could’ve done for you. I wasn’t capable of being the mother you needed. She did a far better job than I could have, and I’m grateful to her.”