Deny Me
Page 13
“I would never judge you.”
I just held his stare, lifting an eyebrow, waiting for him to admit that he always judged me.
“Listen,” he lifted his hands, effectively pausing the budding argument. “Let’s just stop. Okay? Let’s just relax and talk about something else.”
I took a deep breath, calming and pushing away any other retorts on my tongue. He was right. We were at a romantic ocean-side dinner. There was no need to start a fight. “Fine.”
“Good.”
A long silence stretched between us as we both searched for what to say next. “So… you mentioned that you wanted to focus on yourself now that Luella is married. What did you have in mind?” Leaning my elbow on the table and balancing my chin on my hand, I waited for his answer. “Other than serious relationships,” I added on, not wanting to hear more about his future girlfriends or how he would leave me as the lone single, fifth wheel, in the group.
“I don’t know really,” he laughed. “I think I’m still adjusting to being able to focus on me for the first time in eighteen years.”
“Think about it now,” I encouraged.
“Hmm…” he replicated my chin on my hand and stared at me while he thought. “I guess I would want to expand the bar.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” The more he talked, the more excited he seemed to get. “I’m limited on expansion in the area King’s is in because it’s so crowded. But a lot of trendy outdoor shopping areas are opening up more north of Cincinnati.” His eyes sparked with excitement. “You’re the first person I’ve told this to.”
“I’m honored.” I smiled in encouragement. “Tell me more.”
“It’s always just been an idea. One I didn’t think I’d be able to accomplish. But I’ve got financing and started looking at spaces.” His hands moved around as he talked, becoming more animated. “With a new building, we could connect with brewers and build a site where we could make our own craft beers. We could even hold tasting events.”
“That sounds amazing.” By the time he was done, I was smiling right along with him, feeling excitement for him. My chest swelled with pride at the possibility of this man finally being able to accomplish a dream that was completely his. I wanted that for him almost as much as he seemed to want it for himself.
“Maybe you can come with me when we get back? I’d love your opinion with possible ways to lay out the spaces.”
“My specialty is more with clothes.”
“Nonsense. I remember how you helped Luella renovate the house. You’ve got an artistic eye for everything.” He reached across the table and laced our fingers together. “We can go look at the spaces and I can show you the area. They have some nice restaurants I’d love to take you to on a date.”
The easy way he talked about when we got back to Cincinnati set alarm bells off in my head and I had to fight the urge to pull my hand back. This was only a Jamaican fling and we would go back to being friends when we got home. But I decided to bury my head in the sand and rather than set him straight, I gave a noncommittal, “Sure.”
“I’ve got to admit, I’m a little nervous. It’s a big step, but I’m equally excited.”
“You’ll get there. You’re successful in all you do. It would be impossible for you not to be great.”
“Thank you, Evelyn.” He stared, searching my face before leaning forward. I met him halfway as our lips brushed against each other for a soft, lingering kiss. “Your confidence in me means a lot.”
I placed one more soft kiss to his lips and pulled back just enough to look in his eyes. “I’ll always be here to support you.”
I meant it as a friend, but the way his eyes heated and my heart picked up, I wondered why it felt like I wanted it to mean more.
Fifteen
Our walk back to my room was made hand-in-hand. We didn’t speak, but the space between us was screaming from our conversation at dinner. It was overflowing with the knowledge that it was our last night together in Jamaica. We hadn’t talked about what it would be like when we got home. He didn’t ask, so I didn’t think about it. Remain in the moment was my mantra for this trip.
Slipping the card into the lock of my door, Jameson pressed behind me and brushed the hair off my neck, laying kisses down to my shoulder. Goose bumps broke out across my skin as the door clicked to green. He reached past me and pulled the knob. While he pushed me into the room, his lips stayed planted on my neck.
I was expecting him to press me into the door and rip my panties from under my long skirt. Instead, he laid his hands on my hips and slowly walked me to the bed.
“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” he murmured into my hair, hands sliding to graze past my bottom. “The bare skin of your back has been taunting me all night. I know you’re not wearing a bra and all I’ve thought of doing is untying these two knots holding your top in place.” His hands moved up to my waist, tugging at the bow at the small of my back. When it came loose, his hands moved up my stomach and cupped each of my breasts.
“You should have just taken my top off. We were alone on the beach. I would have let you,” I gasped out as he softly pinched my nipples between his fingers. “I’d let you do anything to me.”
A growl was his only response as he used his teeth to latch on to the end of the bow by my neck, pulling until it came untied and fell from my body.
The room was dark, as we hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights when we walked in. Our hands distracted. But when he turned me in his arms, the low-lit lamp from the outside porch shined in enough for me to see his eyes locked on mine, and it filled me with heat and desire.
Returning the favor, I stood on my toes and softly pressed my lips to his, sliding my hands up his chest to begin undoing the buttons on his white linen shirt. I kept the kisses light and teasing until I eased the last button from its slot and pushed his shirt from his broad shoulders.
I pressed my bare chest into his, feeling the heat pouring off his skin and wrapping around me. His hands moved to my ass and he lifted me, walking me back to the mattress where he gently laid me down, and stared at me in awe.
The mood filling the room—swirling around us—was different. There was a reverence in every move, every touch, every kiss. Rather than fast, heated couplings, we watched our hands skim each other’s skin. Our kisses were slow, tasting every part of each other’s lips. We removed our clothing like it was the last gift we would ever get to open, taking our time, cherishing the moment the prize was revealed.
I scooted back on the bed, keeping my eyes glued to his naked body that was crawling over mine. His hands dragged up my thighs, spreading them to make room for himself. Leaning down, he kissed and tasted the skin up my stomach, stopping to flick my hard nipples, before continuing to my mouth.
I swallowed hard when he pulled back to stare in my eyes, his hand pushing the damp hair back from my face. He moved his hips and placed himself at my opening and lazily pushed inside me inch by inch, making sure I felt all of it. His eyes bored into mine, as though searching for any hidden emotions I kept to myself.
Pulling out and pushing back in with long, languid strokes, he kept his eyes glued to mine. My breathing increased from the intensity of the moment, not from the pace, but from the way his eyes shined with something I had never seen before. I tried to decipher the way he was looking at me, but the more I thought about it, the more I felt my chest tighten in fear of what I would find.
His thrusts increased and the pressure built in my core, matching the tightness in my chest. My body felt like it was being pulled in all directions to its breaking point, waiting to snap. Lifting my knees, I dug my heels into the bed, trying to get him deeper, closer, anything to ease the ache consuming my body from the inside out.
One hand dug into his back, holding on for dear life, while the other pressed against the headboard to prevent my head from hitting it. He pushed in harder, making my tits bounce with the force with which he was fucking me.
“No,” he said as he kissed my lips. “Open your eyes. Give me this. Give me you.”
“Jameson,” I whispered, breathing his name like a plea against his mouth. He kissed me again, harder this time. He pushed harder and rolled his hips against my clit on every thrust. One arm supported himself on his elbow and the other searched my body like he was trying to remember it forever. Like it was a treasure he was scared he would lose. Who had touched me with such admiration?
No one.
His fingers trailed past my nipples, down my abdomen, and between the lips of my pussy to find my clit, where he circled, faster and faster.
“Evelyn, Evelyn…” He repeated it over and over, asking me for more than my orgasm. But I didn’t know what. My orgasm was all I had to give.
“Please, Jameson.” He tortured me. I needed him to go faster. Rub my clit faster, fuck me faster. “Please.”
His response was to say my name against my lips. With a hard bite to my lush bottom lip, he stopped the circling and rubbed back and forth, directly where I needed. He thrust faster, giving me what I needed to come. A hot flush spread from my core, followed by a sharp tingle and I knew I was going to snap. Incoherent cries poured from my lips, echoing around the room, mixing with his deep grunts.
I begged and pleaded, moaning his name as he watched me lose all control of myself. The pressure swelled and wrapped around me too tightly before bursting. I knew he’d told me to keep my eyes open, but it was too much. I arched back hard, contracting every muscle as I came, crashing hard like the waves in the background.
His head dropped to my chest and bit into my skin, moaning out his orgasm. It was almost too much as he wrapped his hands under my arms and held my shoulders in place while he fucked me harder than ever before, trying to reach a deeper place inside me. All while chanting my name like it would be his guide through the storm raging through him.
Eventually, his hips slowed to a leisurely pace, easing in and out. My legs finally relaxed against his body and I dragged one foot up and down his calf, soothing him any way I could. He kissed his way up from my chest and to my lips. Stopping, he rolled to his side, leaving me feeling empty, making me miss him being a part of me more than ever before.
My chest still heaved from my labored breathing. Shifting my head, I turned to see him lying back the same as me. Sensing my gaze, he turned to look at me and stared, saying nothing. My mind flew with the possibilities of what he could say after what he’d just done to me.
Instead, he reached for me and pulled me tightly to his chest where he kissed the top of my head, muttering a quiet, “Evelyn,” into my hair.
I think he was just as blown away at what had just happened as I was. I didn’t know what to say, so instead, I focused on the strength of his heartbeat. This was Jameson. Always the solid one. Always the calm one who held it together. I relied on that then to get me through the moments before sleep.
I relied on his heartbeat to distract me from the lone tear trailing down my cheek. The feelings were too much. Sex had always been to scratch an itch. Yet, there I was overflowing with emotions and unable to hold them back, letting it bubble out and slip down my cheeks. Wrapping my arms tighter around me, I leaned on him to support me while I crumbled in the overwhelming storm coming from inside me.
Sixteen
The next morning, I woke up before he did. I laid in the warmth of his arms, staring at the man I had known for the past ten years, and felt like I was seeing him for the first time. His furrowed brows, even in sleep, held a deeper story. The laugh lines and crow’s feet were that much more admirable knowing how hard it must have been to laugh in his life.
Staring at his face was too much. The swelling emotions from the previous night pressed down on my heart again. Needing to distance myself from him, I pulled back and grabbed my sketchbook, and sat on the patio, watching the waves, occasionally peeking back into the room to admire the way his long legs pushed the covers away, exposing his tight ass.
I let my fingers flow, listening to the scrape of the pencil on the thick paper, not sure what I was producing, but letting my emotions guide me. About half way through, I saw another wedding dress taking shape. I stared at it, hoping it would give me answers to the confusion the week had caused. I’d never been with a man for a week. When I factored in the past that Jameson and I shared, the chaos within me took on a whole new form.
It was so much more than I had expected. It was so much more than I wanted. My breathing increased, uncontrolled, coming in choppy pants. I closed my eyes against the sting of tears and put my hand to my chest, trying to calm the quick rise and fall. I couldn’t have Jameson wake up to find me mid-panic attack.
One tear fell, and I watched it mix with the marks on the page before it was absorbed into my drawing. I closed my eyes and took a deep inhale, letting the salty air fill my lungs. Focusing on the waves, I matched my breathing to their rise and fall, controlling it.
I didn’t have panic attacks over sleeping with men. I didn’t let feelings swell in my chest. I was in control. I made the decisions.
And I was making the decision to not feed into the emotions. Vacation was ending that day and I was going to get us shifted back to where were before we left. And to do that, I needed to act like the night before didn’t happen. I needed to bring back the flirtation and playfulness.
Deciding to put my plan in action, I made my way inside to enjoy the body that was now completely uncovered. I was going to enjoy my last day of sexcapades with Jamie-Boy and wake him up with my mouth on his dick.
I thought once we left the hotel it would be easier to deny Jameson. But when he upgraded us to first class on our flight home and slipped his hand under the blanket covering my lap, I decided just one more time and parted my legs, giving him access. By some act of God, I managed to hold back my moans when he pressed his thumb to my clit and set me off. When he brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean, I would have given anything to be able to climb on top of him and let the whole plane watch me claim him as my own.
But as soon as the thought surfaced, I shut it down. Jameson wasn’t mine. I didn’t want him or anyone but myself. I didn’t need anyone but me.
I seemed to be the only one aware of the need for space, because as soon as we departed the plane, he grabbed my hand as we walked to get our bags, and then again out to our cars. I told myself to pull away, but I left my hand in his, liking the warmth and the way his big hand swallowed my smaller one. I reasoned that I didn’t want to pull away and make things awkward in the airport.
He hefted my bag into my trunk for me. “You don’t have to do that, Jameson.”
He looked at me over his shoulder with flattened lips, rearranging my bag in the trunk. “I know I don’t. But I want to.” He turned to face me, bringing his hand to brush strands off my cheek. “I know you can take care of yourself. Just…” his eyes were so soft and filled with an adoration as he scanned my face. “Just let me help you.”
I was about to open my mouth and tell him I didn’t need his help. I was. Really.
But instead he lowered and placed his lips against mine. Just pressing gently before dragging his tongue across my bottom lip. I crumbled under the slow seduction and opened my mouth, letting him guide the kiss. It was lazy, filled with more passion than some of our heavier ones. He pulled away and my eyes remained closed, relishing the way he could put so much into something so little.
“I’ll call you later. Okay?”
Still in a haze from his lips on mine, I nodded, not thinking. He gave me on more chaste kiss and walked away, leaving me standing there watching his broad, sexy back retreat, wondering what the fuck I was going to do.
Seventeen
I settled on avoidance. If I didn�
�t see him or acknowledge him, then I couldn’t give in and let myself get caught up in whatever residual emotions clung to me from Jamaica. Vacation was fun, but now it was time to hop back into designing. Once I was firmly settled back home, this desire to call Jameson would fade. To say I was uncomfortable with the desire was an understatement. I was never reaching for my phone to call any man. Four days was a long time to have spent time with one man and it was getting to me. That was all. Jameson was no different and I needed to shift my focus back to me; the strong independent woman who was trying to get a spot at an Italian design company. Not one who pined for a man.
The first day was the hardest. As though unpacking my clothes remembering each moment shared with Jameson while I wore them wasn’t hard enough, the text messages made it harder.
Jameson (2:09pm): Hey. Do you want to do dinner tonight?
Jameson (5:26pm): Hey. I’m guessing you’re all settled back into the regular day now. Do you want to come over tonight? I can cut my night at the bar short and make us some dinner.
That one was hard. Jameson was a workaholic and I knew he was eager to get back to the bar and back in control of whatever he missed while he was gone. For him to take a Friday night off meant something. I almost caved because Jameson was still my family and I hated ignoring him, especially after he offered to make time for me.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t let what happened in Jamaica continue at home. Jameson was a relationship kind of guy. And I wasn’t. How many times did he tell me in Jamaica that that was what he was looking for? He was ready to settle down.
And I didn’t want to.
And that small fact kept me from messaging him back saying I was on my way.
Jameson (7:48pm): What’s going on Evelyn? Why are you avoiding me?
(Missed Call) Jameson (8:04pm)
(Missed Call) Jameson (9:30pm)
Jameson (9:32pm): What the hell?