by Anthology
“Still, you must miss her.” Jackie swallowed hard.
“You talk like you know what that feels like,” I said carefully, hoping she’d open up to me. There had been something in the tone of her voice that sounded like she was speaking from experience.
She shrugged, trying to play it off. “Maybe. Anyway, what’s wrong with your dad?”
I let her get away with changing the topic because she obviously didn’t want to discuss it, and I had no intention of pushing her this soon and scaring her off.
“He has early onset Alzheimer’s.” My stomach clenched just saying the words. “Most days he’s okay. Days that he has an episode are difficult.”
Jackie squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry.” Her sympathy and support eased my discomfort. Since I was newer in town there wasn’t really anyone in my life for me to talk about my dad’s situation with.
“It is what it is. Best I can do is help where I can.”
Jackie pursed her lips for a moment, looking reflective. “How are you adjusting to small town Bar Harbor? That’s quite a change from Boston, I imagine.”
“It is. In some ways I’ve enjoyed it, though.” I very obviously drew my gaze up and down her body. She laughed good-naturedly. Being serious again I said, “No sense pining away about what can’t be.”
Jackie set her fork down beside her plate and rested her chin on her hand. “I like that philosophy. It’s so true.”
We spent the rest of dinner talking and getting to know each other better. I found out that she loved dogs, but didn’t want the responsibility or commitment of having one, that she briefly considered opening a tourist shop on Main Street before she decided to pursue becoming a nine-one-one operator, and that the part that irked her the most when we first met was me calling her ma’am. I had a good laugh over that one.
When we’d finished eating, we were both curled up on opposite ends of the couch, a wine glass in hand. Perhaps it was the wine that had loosened my tongue, but I couldn’t resist asking about the picture on the mantle of her fireplace.
“I noticed the picture on your mantle of the cop…” I trailed off, hoping she’d see where I was going and fill in the blanks.
Jackie shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “It’s my father.”
It was what I’d suspected, but it still surprised me a bit. “Is he on the force locally?” Maybe I’d run into her father and had no idea.
She gave her head a small shake. “No. My dad is deceased.”
Fuck. Way to go, nimrod. Real smooth. “I’m so sorry,” I said, cringing.
“It was a long time ago,” she whispered. “Like you said…you get used to it.” She took a steadying breath and blinked back tears.
I wouldn’t press. Obviously whatever had happened still upset her, and I wanted her to remember this night in a positive light. I was determined not to mess this up.
Chapter Twelve
Jackie
“Would you like to dance?” Jamie held his hand out to me.
“What?” I glanced around the living room. “Here?” The gesture brought a warm feeling to my chest. One that had already been growing before he’d brought up the subject of my dad. I was determined not to let what had happened sixteen years ago affect what had, so far, been a wonderful evening.
“Yes, here.” He smiled and I swear it brought out the green that I sometimes saw in his gray eyes.
“Sure.” I was usually up for almost anything—why not this? I leaned forward to set my wine glass on the coffee table as he’d done a moment earlier, and I then took his hand. Tingles ran up my arm from our point of contact, and I didn’t think I was alone in my reaction. His gaze darted up to mine and held steady as we both rose from the couch.
We made our way to the front of the fireplace as Hallelujah by K.D. Lang began playing and her soothing voice filled the room. Jamie wrapped me in his arms, pulling me close. I leaned my head on his chest, inhaling his masculine scent and enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by him.
I could get used to this. It was a fleeting thought, but it scared me nonetheless.
As we swayed back and forth, I realized the feeling was safety and security. In some ways I hadn’t felt that since before I’d lost my dad. Ever since his death, I’d been afraid to love anything too much, lest it be taken away. My mom and Chloe had been the only exceptions, and that was only because they were in my heart long before my father was murdered.
I squeezed Jamie a little at that revelation. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, but there it was. He pulled back and looked down at me, brushing his knuckles along my cheek.
“Hey, is everything okay?” His gray eyes were filled with concern.
“Everything is great,” I said with far too much emotion.
“You sure? You look…I don’t know. Like you have something heavy on your mind.”
I blew out a breath. God, could this man read me. “I’m sure.” I lowered my head back down onto his chest, content to hear the strong sound of his heart beating beneath it. The song changed to one that I’d long loved and thought was sexy.
We swayed to the melody, brushing our bodies up against one another. I loved the feel of Jamie’s back muscles rippling underneath my hands as he moved. Without warning, he stopped, his eyes searching my face. For what, I don’t know.
“I really like you, Jackie. A lot.” Evidence of his arousal grew against my stomach, leaving a tingling feeling at the juncture of my thighs. It was exhilarating knowing that I affected him that way. My nipples beaded, and he must’ve felt it because his hand pressed me tighter to him.
Fire was dancing in my veins. I didn’t want to talk about feelings right now. My body wanted this man—craved him like I’d never craved another. Without hesitation, I reached up on my tippy toes and brought my mouth to his.
He gave in immediately, no fight, and pressed me closer, while his tongue ran along the seam of my mouth. I parted my lips and threaded my hands into his hair, working my fingers through the golden strands and loving the silky feel of the curled ends.
Jamie's hand trailed a path down my back until he cupped my ass, giving it a squeeze. A small whimper escaped me, which would’ve been embarrassing if I hadn't been so turned on.
I'm not sure how long we stood in front of the fire making out. It felt like forever as we learned one another's mouths and set our own pace and rhythm that seemed to drive each of us wild.
"I want you so badly," Jamie murmured against my lips. He dipped his head and kissed along my neck, using his tongue to trace the shell of my ear.
I shivered in response and leaned my head back, wanting more. "I want you, too," I breathed out.
"Are you ready to admit we'd be good together?" His lips were back on mine now, preventing me from answering, which suited me fine. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway.
"Where is your bedroom?" I asked breathlessly, pulling away from his kiss.
His eyes were hooded, the green in them more predominant than normal. "I don’t want you thinking this is why I invited you here tonight,” he said in a serious tone.
“If a woman asks where your bedroom is, you tell her,” I said, just as seriously.
A half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Follow me."
He grabbed my hand and practically dragged me down the hall that ran off of the kitchen until we arrived at a door at the end. Reaching for the handle, he glanced at me over his shoulder. "If we go in here...I'm not letting you out until I've had you. Is that something you're prepared for?" His gaze was full of stark, demanding need.
My breath hitched. God, I loved when he talked like that. I never had to imagine what he wanted or how he was feeling.
I nodded my head slowly. I was ready. We'd been practically dancing around this dalliance since our first meeting.
Jamie gave one quick jerk of his head and opened the door.
The room itself wasn't what I expected, not that I had expected anything. No, I hadn’t been
daydreaming about being in this exact position at all since the wine cellar.
It was tastefully decorated in shades of brown and green, with a coordinating bedspread. I was sure, if the guys down at the station had seen it, he'd be mocked endlessly. And if Jamie himself didn’t exude pure rugged maleness, it might’ve come off as metrosexual, it was so well coordinated.
The king-sized bed was centered in the middle of the room with a wrought iron headboard displaying an intricate pattern, and a dark wood nightstand that matched the dresser sat on the right side of the bed.
Jamie turned to face me with a heated gaze and awareness crackled between us. "I want to undress you. Slowly. I've been imagining this since I first laid eyes on you, and I intend to take my time and enjoy it."
My breathing became shallow as he unbuttoned my shirt one button at a time, beginning with the bottom one and working his way up. His fingers brushed my heated skin as he dipped underneath to loosen each button. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation. When he reached the top, he used both hands to slide my shirt down my arms until gravity took over and sent the material fluttering to the wood floor.
Now I stood in front of him, wearing only a black lace bra on my upper half. His eyes took me in with no shame as he brought both hands up and squeezed them. I groaned low in my throat, my head falling back. He unclasped my bra and it fell to the floor, then suddenly, Jamie dropped to his knees in front of me. I sucked in a breath.
He slid his fingers underneath my waistband, popping the button on my shorts and then pulling down the zipper agonizingly slow. I was desperate for him to remove them—they now felt way too restrictive. Placing his hands on my hips, he pulled the fabric down until it was at my ankles. I lifted one leg, then the other to remove them completely. Jamie tossed them to the side and there was something so intrinsically male and virile about the action that wetness pooled between my thighs.
Jamie's fingers slid up the side of my matching lace thong, then, in one quick swoop, he pulled the delicate fabric to the side, giving him a full view of my most intimate place. "You're completely bare." His eyes darted up to mine, looking for an explanation since I hadn't been this way a couple weeks ago when he'd explored me at the party.
I couldn't help but blush at having to provide a reason. "I told the girl that does my waxing to try something different this time."
Jamie grinned wide. "I like it." He leaned in and tasted me, pressing his tongue between my folds. I whimpered again, my legs shaking ever so slightly.
"Get on the bed." He stood and took my hand again, leading me across the room.
I crawled along the bed until I lay on my back, gazing up at him standing at the edge. "I'm feeling a little like we aren't on equal footing here, what with me practically naked and you with all those clothes on." I grinned playfully, not at all self-conscious. I worked hard to maintain this body, but it wouldn’t have mattered…I’d always figured that most men were happy with a naked woman in front of them, regardless of whether or not she had a perfect body.
He chuckled low in his throat and undid his pants, shedding them without much effort. Underneath, he was wearing black boxer briefs that hugged his assets nicely, and I was now certain I’d been right about him being well-endowed.
His heavy-lidded gaze pinned me to the mattress as he dipped his thumbs into either side of his boxers and pulled them down, kicking them to the side as his erection sprang free. His socks were next, then he crawled up beside me with a feral look in his eye, like a lion stalking its prey. I was more than happy to play the role of the victim in that moment.
When he reached my body, his tongue lined a trail from my ankle up over my knee, along my inner thigh, over the lace of my panties and further up, stopping at my breasts and biting down lightly on one of my nipples. I arched my back up in response. He sucked my other nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tightened tip.
I dug my hands into his hair, loving that it was long enough to really grip, while he played with my breasts, sucking and nipping until I was a moaning, panting mess underneath him.
“You can’t even imagine all the times I’ve thought about doing this to you,” Jamie said in a slow, hot whisper against my heated flesh as he trailed a path with his tongue toward my center. He sucked at me over top of the lace and the sensation was just enough to make me wild, but not quite enough to send me over the edge.
I pulled on Jamie’s hair while simultaneously pushing his face into me, begging for more friction. He chuckled against me and put me out of my misery by pulling my drenched thong down my legs.
His large hands gripped the backside of my knees and spread me so I was bared to him. “Such a beautiful pussy,” he said with a note of reverence.
Oh God, his words. I could almost come from his words. “Jamie,” I breathed out. Asking for what exactly, I wasn’t sure.
Pressing my legs apart further and making sure I couldn’t move, he leaned in and licked me, focusing on my swollen bud—sucking, pulling, and teasing it until I thought I’d lose my mind. Heat raced through my veins, centering at the apex of my thighs and, before I knew it, my orgasm overtook me with the force of an atom bomb, pummeling my head and shoulders down into the mattress as I tried bucking up off the bed. Jamie held me down and continued his assault, bringing me down slowly until I finally came back to myself.
Holy fuck Batman.
For a long moment, I lay there sated until I slowly opened my eyes. I was surprised to see him on his knees, staring down at me with such intensity that the connection between us felt as if it were almost a tangible thing. Like if I looked hard enough I’d see the tendrils of attachment growing like vines from each of us, meeting in the middle and wrapping around each other.
We both stayed there, gazing at each other. For seconds or minutes, I didn’t know, but it was long enough to know that I was in deep shit because whether I had wanted it to happen or not, I was feeling something for Jamie—something deep and real.
“You on the pill?” he asked. I nodded, biting my lip. “I’m clean. Anything I need to know?” I shook my head, unable to speak under the weight of his stare.
Still maintaining eye contact with me, he reached for my ankle, leaned in, and brought my leg up so it rested over his shoulder. I instinctively wrapped my other leg around his waist while he gripped the base of his cock and brought it to my entrance.
“That was only the beginning of what I have in store for you, sweetheart.” He pushed in slow yet forcefully, allowing my body time to adjust, all while pinning me with the same intensity in his eyes.
He began leisurely at first, pulling out and pushing in, unhurried and almost lazily until he increased his pace—steadily building up a rhythm until he was pounding his hard length in and out of me. I whimpered and strained against him, my sounds ragged with need.
Our position had him so deep inside me that it wasn’t long before I felt the stirrings of another orgasm. Jamie’s one hand gripped my ankle that was resting near his head and, when he moved it down to palm my breast and pull hard on my nipple, a fierce orgasm ripped through me. I cried out and clenched around him and, with a few jerky thrusts, he followed behind me, yelling out my name the way only a satisfied man could.
My chest heaving, I let me my leg drop, and he came to rest on top of me, shifting himself so that all his weight wasn’t on me. It took a minute for us both to catch our breath, our skin slick with sweat, until he finally moved off of me to spoon me from behind.
That was when the panic set in.
I’d allowed Jamie to hurtle past all my defenses—defenses I’d spent years perfecting, and yet he’d toppled the wall as easily as if it were made of straw.
My heart rate picked up with this realization and, despite what we’d done, adrenaline surged anew through my veins.
I need to get out of here.
I tried to shift myself away from Jamie so I could get off the bed and find my clothes, but his arm around my waist pulled me back into him.<
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“I should get going,” I said, trying not to let my panic come through in my tone.
He didn’t respond, and I waited a minute before trying to pull away again, but Jamie’s iron grip was too strong.
“Jackie, are you pushing me away?” he asked with a slight tremor to his voice. “I’m not the only one that feels this between us, am I?” he whispered.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. No, he wasn’t the only one. I felt it, too. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend I didn’t. I just couldn’t help feeling like I was at a crossroads.
Taking a deep breath, I sought the courage to be honest with him. When I confessed to him how royally messed up I was, I wouldn’t have to worry about leaving, he’d be pushing me out of his bed.
“I’m afraid,” I said simply.
“Afraid of what?” He brushed an errant hair away from my face as he shifted so he was on top of me. For some reason, the gesture made me feel cherished, loved.
“Afraid of losing you,” I whispered. I looked over his shoulder, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact with how vulnerable I felt.
“But we’ve barely even begun,” he said, surprised but tender. “How could you be scared of losing me?”
“Because you’re a cop.”
Jamie stared down, waiting for me to explain further.
I gave a sad sigh, unshed tears burning behind my eyes. “You saw the picture of my dad on my mantle…he was killed when I was ten. He answered a domestic violence call one day and, before he’d even knocked on the door, the guy blew a hole through the door with a shotgun.” My voice tremored and I inhaled a deep breath to compose myself. “My dad bled out before help could arrive.”
“Oh, Jackie.” Jamie wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up off the mattress and holding me to him. He clutched me so tight and his despair for me was so palpable, I succumbed to my tears. I wept in his arms, reliving in my head the pain of that day. Of seeing a cruiser pull up in my driveway and running outside, thinking it was my dad stopping by like he sometimes did when he was on shift. But then I heard my mother’s screams from the front porch behind me as Don stepped out of the car, not my father. My ten-year-old self knew something was terribly wrong, but not exactly what, and as I sobbed into Jaime’s naked chest, I recalled that final moment—the moment before everything had changed, before I’d known with certainty that my father was dead.