by Sam Destiny
"So you pointed out in your note." He cringed at the mentioning of it, making her realize that he had seriously intended to leave but had been caught because he didn't know their routine. Hell, he didn't even know their lives really.
"I know you think I don't know you any longer, but Alessia, I do. I've watched you for as long as I had the chance. I still know when you don't believe me. I know that the first time I've ever held you was two nights ago. Trust me. I couldn't be more aware of that. I do realize, too, that it took twenty-eight years for our first kiss even though we've known each other since you were born. I know all those things and nothing I can say will prove my intentions or let you know I didn't lie in those few lines. If everything had been the way I planned, neither you nor Alessandro would've ever known I was here. I walked past your house, and Dorly was outside. I should've been surprised then that she recognized me, but I wasn’t. She stopped me and asked me if I was here to see you." He closed his eyes, rubbing them. "I told her I wasn't, but damn, Aly, I wanted to. I just wanted to see you smile. I have no idea if she saw something on my face that day or not, but she commented on my exhausted appearance. I told her I hadn't slept in a bed in a while, and she offered me her spare bedroom. I was tired, so tired, and a bed sounded heavenly. I didn't even think about why she trusted me. I was little better than a stalker."
"Dorly needs someone to kick her ass. That woman’s gonna get her herself killed with her kindness," Aly mumbled, angry that Dorly was that trusting yet thankful she had given Jam a reason to stay.
"I knew your street, but not exactly where your house was. I would have walked up and down the beach until meeting you. That was the plan at least. After I had woken up, I found a note saying that my darling savior had gone to her neighbor and that I was to come and say bye at least. Of course, I wanted to do that. I owed her, after all. I saw her sitting on the porch and a woman was facing her. It took only a moment for me to realize it was you. I knew I needed to talk to you then. Just once. Seriously, I just wanted to say hi and tell you about Collene. It was the first time in ten years I didn't have to worry about anyone guessing my feelings for you." He looked sincere, and Aly wondered if he had sacrificed his happiness for something she didn’t yet know.
"Okay, even if you liked me back then -"
"Aly, I never stopped." She stared at him, wishing so much that he’d be serious. “The only reason I stayed here was because I finally had the chance to live the life I’ve always wanted. You’ve been so sure about me needing to stay this morning, and suddenly, you look at me as if I’m breaking every rule there is,” he added while watching her face.
She shook her head; trying to arrange the things her head told her and the things her heart wanted so badly. Were there even rules? Their only restriction was the horizon they allowed themselves to have.
“My friend, Phil, basically told me to kick your ass to the curb. After all, if you didn’t want me ten years ago, what makes me believe you do now?” she admitted, searching his eyes for a reaction that would tell her which way to go.
Jam could prove that to her. Seeing her features in the soft glow of the candles made her appear so much more vulnerable than during the harsh daylight. Then again, maybe it was the way she was looking at him—hope making her eyes shine while fear paled her cheeks.
“Oh, Aly,” he groaned, cupping the back of her neck to draw her in. He pulled her on his lap, tugging her as close as he could while his lips tasted hers. She was trembling again, just as she had done earlier, and he wanted more, hoping nothing would interrupt them this time.
In a quick movement, he had buried his hands under the material of her shirt, finding her skin warm to his touch. She was kissing him back now, a fierce dance of tongues and lips. Years of longing and passion poured into the kiss so strongly, it was almost bruising.
“We can’t. We’re in the middle of the living room, and I know Alessandro’s asleep, but if he wakes up, he’d be … we can’t,” she breathed against his lips, and Jam grinned. He saw in her eyes how much she wanted it. Besides, it gave him the perfect excuse to stay fully dressed while making her feel good.
“There’ll be nothing he can see, Aly, trust me,” he coaxed; being more than glad for the wide sweater she had pulled over. In contrast to her other ones, this wasn’t knitted, and therefore, not see-through. It was perfect.
“Jam,” she started to protest her, but he hushed her with a finger on her lips.
“Trust me,” he pleaded, and she finally nodded, kissing his fingertip. He went right back to her lips, making sure she had placed one leg on each side of his lap before going back under her clothes, finding the clasp of her bra and unhooking it. He almost smiled as he realized his heart was racing in his throat as he carefully moved his hands to cup her breasts. They fit into his palms perfectly, and she gasped as his thumbs caressed her sensitive peaks. He leaned in and kissed her throat, biting softly as she threw her head back to give him more room. She tasted faintly sweet; probably remnants of her lotion, and she tasted uniquely female. Jamison wished his lips could explore more than her neck, but he was giving her passion in an unexpected moment. There’d be time for other things later.
Rolling her nipples between his fingers drew a low moan from Aly, and he loved that sound. She was biting her lip, and he loved watching her reaction so closely. Her hair was tumbling down her back, looking almost on fire as the candles reflected the red in her brown curls. It wasn’t obvious during the day, but now, she seemed to glow of her own accord.
Jam moved his hands away, just to caress her skin and give her a short reprieve, but she didn’t exactly play along, rolling her hips against the erection straining his pants. Instantly, he stilled her hips, making her pout in protest.
Chuckling low, he leaned in and nibbled at the lip she so seductively presented. She drowned her hands in his hair, leaning in to get another deep kiss. It was addicting, no doubt about that. She tried to pull his shirt up, but he stopped her hands.
“Stop. I won’t tie you up because … well, I just won’t.” He bit his tongue at his slip and then gave her a smile. “I won’t, but please, let me be nice to you, Aly. Let me treat you to what I wish I could have treated you to years ago,” he then went on, and she sighed in resignation.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his.
“Well, hold on then,” he replied, letting his left hand slip beneath the waistband of her sweats, finding her sweet spot over her underwear.
“Shit, Jamison,” she gasped, and he felt her breath wash over his lips. She had closed her eyes again, pleasure playing over her features, making her appear much younger than her almost thirty. It was as if the years just melted away between them. He slipped a finger into her panties; meeting heated skin that made him, too, draw in a sharp breath.
“God, Aly, you’re so wet, and it’s for me,” he whispered, feeling how she nodded softly. She was breathing hard, and he circled her sensitive nub before rubbing over it ever so lightly. She instantly arched, making him feel like the best lover in the world.
“More,” she begged, and he heightened the pressure just a bit more while finding her nipple with his free hand. Her nails were digging into his shoulders, but in contrast to what he was used to, this felt incredible.
He knew he’d get her to the edge quicker if he used other parts of his body, or if he got her fully naked, but that wasn’t his intention. He liked that this was more than private because no one could really tell what he was doing. It was intimate, too; simply because they were so close to each other he felt her breath whenever she exhaled, and therefore, Jam decided that this was the best sex he ever had. And he wasn’t even naked.
Increasing his intensity, his rubbing finally brought her over the edge, making her shiver in his arms and then collapse against him. Grinning to himself, he cupped the back of her neck and lazily went through her hair.
“I think I might have scratched you,” she eventually whispered, her v
oice still a little shaky. It made Jam feel even better. She pushed up his t-shirt sleeve enough to see the half-moon marks she had left on his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she added, and he could hear the sadness in her words.
“They’ll go away and no one will ever see them again,” he promised, trying to get her to look at him, but she focused on his shoulder and, he guessed, the scar he had there.
“I should be more careful with you. You’re marked enough,” she mused, rubbing her thumb over her indentions. Jam had to admit that the marks she left on him would probably be more sexy than any of his other marks were, but he didn’t say that. Instead, he took her chin between his fingers and made her look at him. She seemed ready to cry; not exactly the reaction he was aiming for.
“Alessia, please, don’t worry,” he whispered, and Aly cuddled into him, caressing his chest over his shirt.
“How can I not when you came here scarred like that?” she asked, and he sighed. Jam couldn’t say why, but he had hoped she had simply forgotten. It was the naïve side in him.
“Maybe … because I just made you come?” he replied, and she playfully slapped him. He could almost instantly feel her getting tense, though, and he knew her next words wouldn’t be much fun.
“You have a lot of scars. Which hurt the most?” She was clever; he had to give her that. Aly had avoided asking who had done it, and she gave him a choice as to how much to tell her. Yet she tried to satisfy her curiosity. Jam decided to give her at least something, even though there wasn’t one scar he remembered hurting more than another did. Most of them had been terribly painful.
“I can’t tell you which hurt the most, but I remember the first one I ever got. I mean besides the normal ones like scratched knees or chicken pox. It’s on the left side of my ribcage. I needed three stitches because it wouldn’t stop bleeding. A glass bottle hit me. There was so much blood. It was crazy. Once the scar healed, I got my first tattoo, too, just to cover it up,” he explained, and Aly moved slightly.
“Can I see it?” she asked, and he got up, showing her the side of his body. She reached out, touching cold fingertips to his skin. “My defending warrior,” she read, and Jam watched her face for any signs of recognition. Luckily, there were none. The font his tattoo artists had used was small and elegant, making the words hard to read. To most, they looked like a few simple lines. He wasn’t surprised that Aly could read them, though; her handwriting always had looked similar.
Her questioning eyes met his, and Jam pulled her to her feet. “One day, you’ll figure out the meaning,” he promised, kissing her forehead while she caressed his tattoo.
“Will I one day also figure out who did this to you?” she wanted to know, pulling back enough to look at him. Jam tried to avoid her eyes, but she just moved with him.
“I hope you won’t,” he admitted and then drew her in until his cheek rested against the side of her head. “I hope that once I fix my issues back home, I’ll come here to the light and never have to face the dark again,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder without letting her go.
“So that means if I’d let you go now, you’d come back quicker?” she asked. It was such an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, and Jam wanted to kiss her. And he did, before nodding.
“That could be, but I have to be honest here. I’m not yet ready to leave.” He grinned and then noticed how she breathed a sigh of relief.
“So I should get going. You and Lesso have an early day tomorrow,” he finally suggested, and she pulled back, staring at him as if he had grown another head. “It’s the right thing to do, Aly. Respect your virtue and …”
Aly lifted a brow and looked back at the sofa they had been doing less virtuous things on not too long ago.
“Okay, that maybe was a moot point, but you know the rules,” he reminded her.
“We’re breaking them all anyway,” Aly insisted, and Jam took a deep breath before walking around the room to blow out the candles. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, and then he found Aly, nudging her until she jumped up into his arms. With ease, he carried her upstairs, finding his way only because the hallway light was burning, which she turned off in their passing. She helped him out of his shirt in the dark of her bedroom, making him feel a lot more secure than the last times she had seen him shirtless. He still needed to take care of something before slipping into bed with her.
"I'll be right back," he whispered, and she sighed but then nodded. He had to grin, but then excused himself, marching into her bathroom. Inside, he rested his hands left and right on the sink, breathing hard. It had been years since his body had reacted so strongly to a woman. Even though he was male and naked breasts usually stirred something in him, it never had been such a burning need like the one he felt after having taken care of Aly. He wanted to make love to her, sweet and fast, strong and slow, but it wouldn't exactly look good if he did then soon left again. He couldn't say what it was, but it just felt wrong. Still, his erection didn't think there was anything wrong with him just going for it. Instead, though, he opened his jeans and swallowed strongly. It had been a while since he had done himself any favors, so it almost made his knees buckle with relief when he palmed himself. Gritting his teeth against the onslaught of long missed feelings, it didn't take more than five strokes and the image of Aly coming to make Jam create a mess in Aly's sink. With a blush on his cheeks, he cleaned up, not daring to look at his reflection in the mirror. He flushed the toilet for good measure and then went back into the bedroom, crawling into bed next to Aly. He pulled her close, kissing her neck.
"I could've taken care of that, you know?" she mumbled and again he felt heat creep up on his face.
"I don't know what you mean," he mumbled. "Try to get some sleep."
He felt how she shook her head and then cuddled closer. Jam felt himself relax.
Holding her until she fell asleep was something Jam would never tire of. He even planned to let her wake up with him this time.
It had been more than a week since Jam came into their lives and seamlessly integrated himself into their routines. It was too easy building her day around evenings with him and Alessandro together. Except for the night she had heard about his first scar, she hadn’t gotten any more information out of him and it annoyed her. She wanted to know more. In fact, she needed to know it all.
Alessandro was spending the night with Dorly, and Aly had thought about preparing food, but then she figured that if Jam were mad at her, they wouldn’t get to it anyway. She wanted him to stay with them. He didn’t need to go back for anything; Aly was sure about that by now. She had talked to Greg and actually hoped she could convince him to just uproot himself and come up to join them in Sunrow. She’d have her whole family there then, and she wouldn’t ever have to return to Townsend, especially now that Jamison was here with them.
He had gone into town and was expecting a game night with Aly and Alessandro, but now she was waiting for his return, staring out at the ocean. It was angry, the usual blue waves carrying a steel color. A sense of foreboding filled her, and it gave her the chills. She hugged herself, a knitted coat playing around her legs as the wind teased her body.
“This doesn’t look good. And if I combine the empty house with your thoughtful posture, I’m guessing I’m not gonna like where this is going to head.” As much as she wished it were different, Aly almost melted as Jam’s deep voice carried over to her. He embraced her from behind, kissing her cheek before looking out at the water with her.
“I need to know more about your scars, Jam. This thing between us has taken a very serious turn in no time at all, and I won’t have it if you keep things from me. Especially when I know they are such a big part of you.” She turned in his arms, glad he hadn’t yet run. His expression, though, told her pretty clearly that it was just a matter of seconds. She framed his face, probably holding on a little tighter than necessary, but she wanted him to stay. “You belong with us, and I know you know that, but … you are stil
l about to walk out on us every damn second. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror. You’re beautiful, Jamison Loane, more than anyone else, but you just don’t believe that. And I want to know why. Tell me about all scars. Please.”
Jam looked as if she had asked him to walk through fire and then peel his skin off all by himself. “Aly, I’m not going to tell you …”
“Who did it? I guessed as much.” And she didn’t need him to tell her. She’d figure that out; she just needed to hear about enough scars to maybe find a pattern. He stared at her for a long moment and then ran a hand through his hair, staring over her head at the waves crashing on the shore.
“Fine,” Jam finally agreed, and she took his hand, kissing it softly. He gave her a shaky smile. “You can do better than that, can’t you?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. She laughed breathlessly, relief making her almost dizzy as she pushed herself onto her tiptoes to kiss him deeply and then lead him inside.
He was getting more nervous with every step as they approached the house, and once they stood in the living room, he spread his arms wide. “How do you wanna do this, huh?” He wanted to know; his tone proved how much he was on edge.
“Take off your shirt,” she whispered, suddenly unsure if she should push him toward this or not.
“I always imagined you saying those words to me, but not like this.” He laughed humorlessly, and then pulled his hoodie and his shirt off, staring at her. Aly swallowed, walking around him, wondering where to start. She found a spot on his back, touching it. “A chair. It bruised my ribs and got taped but didn’t exactly heal the way it should because it was reopened again and again,” he said through clenched teeth. Aly leaned in and kissed the scar before touching the next one.
“I hit a table corner. It hurt for weeks, especially because that spot was hit again and again,” he reported, his voice having gone flat. Aly kissed that, too, then moved on. He had so many marks on his body that she wanted to cry. In fact, silent tears were running down her cheeks. Thirty minutes later, she knew she had a victim of abuse in front of her, but her mind couldn’t figure out when this happened. Jam sometimes told longer stories and sometimes just gave one-word answers.