by Olivia Chase
And my heart stops dead. Right there in my chest.
It can’t be.
I stare hard, wondering if somehow I’ve gone crazy. Because there’s Jamison, working a legit job. Miller Construction is a legitimate company—they did a little roof work for George’s office building last summer.
Jamison reaches for a bottle of water and takes a gulp. Sweat dribbles down his throat into the neckline of his dirty white T-shirt, and I’m pretty sure my ovaries explode at the sight. His arms might be even more muscular than before.
He’s ethereal, more godlike than man. Kill me now.
I take a few steps forward until I’m blocked by a tree and just watch him work. The muscles flexing in his back as he hauls bricks and maneuvers them into place. His easy companionship with his coworkers, the way they work together.
His hands are so big, so strong, so competent. I can’t help but remember how they felt on my skin—delicate, precise, then exacting and painful in all the right ways.
There’s an ache in my heart that grows so big I can barely breathe.
God, I miss him. I’m not over him, not at all. Not even anywhere close, no matter what lies I try to tell myself. I still want him and ache for him.
I’m not sure how many minutes pass. I’m such a creeper, staring at the man while he works. But I can scarcely believe my eyes. Jamison, in the flesh, doing work that he seemed to previously scorn. Real work.
My heart is torn, conflicted. Because as much as I’d like to think this means he’s changed his ways, I don’t think he could truly have. He lived his entire life growing up on the wrong side of the law. People don’t change their colors that quickly, if ever.
My chest sinks, and I tear my gaze away. No point in thinking this over. He and I aren’t meant to be. How could I ever trust that he wouldn’t sink back into illegal activities if given a chance? Working a real job isn’t easy. Maybe he’ll get tired of this.
I walk to my car, get in, and drive home.
But all night, I have the vision of Jamison working in my mind. My sleep is disturbed, uneasy, and when I wake, I recall vivid dreams of him, his eyes, his smile, his lips on my skin as my moans grew louder and louder.
The ache is so much worse when I realize it was all in my mind and I’m still without him. I get ready for the office, feeling like a zombie, driving in, totally preoccupied with thoughts of Jamison.
A few hours into the workday, I realize we ran out of coffee. So I use it as an excuse to go to the store.
And I just so happen to take a path that leads me by the hospital.
God, I’m pathetic. This is insane. I just need to see if yesterday’s occurrence was real. If Jamison is still working that job.
I go to the corner store and buy a big bag of ground coffee beans. Then on the way back, I stop my car and leave it idling in front of the hospital. The guys are out working. I hear the loud sounds of heavy machinery being used. Lots of dust flying in the area.
When I see a familiar form, those impossible-to-miss arm tattoos, I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
He’s really here, really working this job. How long has this been going on? Because it wasn’t like this when I last saw him. Was it? Were those guys at the table the men he’s working with now? That was weeks ago.
Jamison asked me to talk, and I shut it down. I didn’t want to hear what he’d say. I deleted his voicemail and text without listening to those, either. But maybe he was explaining all of this to me.
My stomach sinks. I don’t know what to think or feel. But I’m scared to admit that he might actually have changed. Where would that leave us, if anywhere at all? What if he changed and then decided he’s better off without me?
So many questions. And I have no answers.
I drive off and go back to my office.
The next several days, despite my efforts to stay away, I keep finding myself drawn back to the construction site. Watching Jamison work in his easy way. Every time I see him, he’s the same—efficient and competent, being kind to coworkers, not yelling or goofing off or threatening anyone at all.
And each day I see him, I start to accept the truth.
Jamison is different. A new man. One who has started a new life…without me. The thought leaves me inexplicably sad.
I manage to stay away from the construction site for two days. But when Rebecca asks me to visit her in the store after I’m done working, I can’t help but be hyperaware of the fact that Jamison is right across the street. And he has no idea I’m here.
“—choose the red one or the blue one,” Rebecca is saying, holding up two scarves.
I jerk my attention back to her. “Um, choose the blue one.”
She raises a brow. “Did you even hear a word I just said?”
My face burns. “No, I suck. I’m sorry.”
“You’re really distracted today. A little off. You okay?” She frowns.
“I’m fine.” I know my voice is tight, and I’m trying too hard to make it sound chirpy. “I need some earrings. Help me pick a pair out.”
She raises an eyebrow but lets it go, and a few minutes later, we hug and I leave the store.
My gaze wanders over toward the construction site and I feel a tightening in my lower belly and nervous butterflies spring up by the hundreds.
Why do I feel like this?
Because I know I want to see him. Ever since spotting him working, I’ve been unable to get him off my mind. Of course, I never truly got him off my mind to begin with—but now it’s far worse.
Jamison is still fully entrenched in my life, even if he isn’t here with me.
A moment later, I cross the street to get to my car just up the block. I stand for a moment and look toward the job site. No one is there—it’s empty. Disappointment sweeps through me. Probably for the best.
“Claire?” a voice I’d know anywhere murmurs from a few feet away. Jamison’s standing with a small group of men, a couple who are smoking. Looks like they’re done working for the day.
I bite my lip and give him a small nod of greeting. My stomach is twisted in knots, and it’s hard keeping my face smooth and emotionless.
Here he is, in the flesh. Looking gorgeous and sweaty and sexy as hell…and just as powerful as ever.
Even being this close to him makes me want to be closer. Smell the sweat and musk on his body. God help me.
The group starts to cross the street. “Jamison, you coming?” one of them asks.
He gives them a quick veiled look, then glances at me with some kind of strange emotion in his eyes that I can’t interpret. But I can feel a definite wall between us, a distance that’s more like miles instead of mere feet. Jamison isn’t walking over to talk to me, trying to touch me, telling me how he feels. Instead, it seems like he’s…obligated to stand in place while I continue to stand and stare at him like a moron who can’t speak.
And why should he want to talk to me or touch me? Why would he make himself vulnerable to me again? I freaked out and pushed him away. Multiple times. I didn’t respond to his calls or texts. I shut him out, and now he’s shut me out.
I should leave him be, no matter what dreams I might have had to the contrary. He doesn’t want me. Not anymore. The way he’s stiffly staring at me screams the truth loud and clear. I missed my chance, and now he’s moved on and is in a better place. I’m glad for him. I really am.
My eyes threaten to burn with tears, and I struggle to hold them back. I’m not going to cry. No way.
“I’m…very sorry for how I left you without saying goodbye or responding to your text. I owe you an apology,” I say, proud I manage to keep my voice even. “Thanks for listening, and have a good time with your friends.” I spin and start walking away, leaving him to his life.
My heart is giving hard thuds against my ribcage.
Every step away from him is a tiny shard of glass in my heart. How did I let myself get here? Falling for this man? I want to sob and it’s only by the skin of my
teeth that I keep from breaking down in public.
Right when I get to my car, a warm hand is on my inner elbow, and then Jamison is there, looking down at me.
“Claire,” he murmurs, then drops his hand. “I was just trying to get your attention without shouting.”
His voice is polite. So formal. Not the passionate man I knew at all. Perhaps all that passion he felt for me faded away a while ago. I just don’t know what to think.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your friends,” I say. “Don’t let me keep you.”
He licks his lips and stares down at me. God, those eyes. They slay me. They break me apart. I want to see him look at me with passion, even just one more time. I didn’t realize how badly I craved it until it was gone.
His eyes are locked hard on mine. He almost seems angry, the way he’s staring at me so intensely. “I saw you looking at the construction site today,” he says, after a long moment.
I shrug. “It’s…a distraction.” My cheeks flush with the embarrassment of being caught.
“I saw you looking a couple of days ago, too.”
Shit. My cheeks burst into flames. He busted me. “I…” I tuck my hair behind my ear and look away. Tears slick my lower lids, and I blink. How do I keep embarrassing myself with this man? He must think I’m a creeper, especially after the way I treated him last time. “I’m sorry. I should go.”
“Claire, don’t fucking leave me again.” The pain in his voice is so raw that I’m forced to look at him. There’s a deep agony in his eyes. “Do you know what kind of hope I felt when I realized you were looking at me? And that it wasn’t just a one-time fluke?” He sighs and takes a step toward me, his hands clenched by his sides. “I just need to hear if you still have feelings for me. And if you don’t, if that’s all done, I swear I’ll walk away and never bother you again. But be honest with me.”
I can feel my pulse pounding in my throat. I gather my nerves. “I still have feelings for you.”
His entire body relaxes, the tension leaking out of him. “Fuck.” He reaches toward me, cupping the back of my head, and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
Feeling him here, our bodies aligned, our mouths caressing, my heart starts to repair itself for the first time in far too long. All the aching, the angst, the fretting, it fades away.
All too soon, Jamison pulls back and rests his brow against mine. “Don’t you know I’d do anything for you, baby?” He pulls back, and his eyes are shining with such emotion that it steals my breath. “Red, you’re the reason. The reason I changed my whole world.”
I reach up and cup his cheek, loving the way his skin feels under my hand. “I missed you so much. Every single second I missed you. But I was…I was so scared that I would fall for you and get hurt again.”
“Can’t blame you for that fear.” His head bows slightly. “I wasn’t the man I should have been when we met. You were right to be scared, even though I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. But I’m working on getting better.” He swallows, twice, and his voice shakes with emotion. “I won’t let you down ever again, if you’ll give me that chance.”
I reach up on my tiptoes and I kiss him boldly, possessively, wrapping my arms around his neck and drawing him to me. This man changed himself—for him and for me. And I’m so humbled that I can’t speak. I just kiss him, taste his mouth, breathe in his familiarity, let myself luxuriate in the decadence of being with Jamison.
The tears stream down my face. I let them fall without care. He reaches up and thumbs them away, kissing each cheek.
“God, Red, I need you in my life. I don’t want to go another day without you. It’s already been hell.” The rawness in his voice undoes me.
“It’s been like that for me, too,” I whisper. “I didn’t know if I’d survive much longer.”
I can’t resist my feelings for him anymore. Not when I see what he’s done to prove himself to me. What more could I ask for? I have to trust that he isn’t going to fall back into his old ways.
“I got my own place,” he said. “Moved out of the old house with my brothers.”
“Jamison,” I say, brushing my lips against his. “Take me to this new apartment of yours. I’d like to check it out.”
The sudden heat in his eyes makes my body erupt in tingles. “Oh, is that right? I have to take a shower, though. I’m still dirty from work.”
I nod and run a finger down his chest. “I like you dirty,” I breathe. “It’s sexy. But maybe I can help scrub you down.” My pussy starts to throb from the way he’s looking at me, like he wants to eat me piece by piece.
Jamison leans over and whispers in my ear, “I’m gonna wreck you tonight, Red. That pussy is mine.”
I reach up and stroke the shell of his ear, savoring the small shiver he gives. “I’m all yours. Only yours. No one’s ever made me feel the way you do, not even close. I want it all, Jamison. And…I’m falling hard for you.” It feels good to let myself think it, acknowledge it. Say it out loud.
His hands slide into my hair, and he tilts my head back. Kisses my pulse at the base of my throat. “You tempt me like no one ever has, sexy. And if I don’t get to fuck you, like, right now, I’m going to go insane.”
The ride to his apartment doesn’t take long. The entire time, he keeps his right hand clamped on my leg, like he’s afraid I’m going to run off.
But I’m not going anywhere anymore—I’ll never run away from him again. I can’t deny my feelings for him. My gratitude. My humbleness. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m not going to screw it up.
I should have given him a chance to talk before now. And it’ll take time for us to fully let down our guards and trust after what we’ve put each other through. But he’s worth the investment. I’ll prove I’m worth it, too.
We pull up in front of his building. It’s a cute garden-style apartment complex. His apartment is on the first floor. Jamison keys the door open and lets me in.
“Welcome to my…” His words trail off when he sees I’m kicking off my shoes, then stripping my clothes from my body and letting them puddle at my feet. My dress, my bra, my panties are gone.
My body is throbbing for him. I can feel my wetness threatening to drip down my thighs.
Jamison growls, a guttural, animalistic sound that drives me wild. I need him grabbing me, biting me, clawing me like he can’t hold himself back.
“Show me your shower,” I say.
He grabs my hand and practically yanks me into the hallway, then we turn left and he flicks on the light. Strips his clothes off in half a second and throws them everywhere. I giggle at his excitement.
With a twist, he turns on the shower stall, and then his fingers are wrapped around my waist, and I sigh. Press my naked breasts against his chest. My nipples bead from the contact. I breathe him in.
He guides me into the shower, grabs the soap, and begins to lather himself as fast as he can. But I steal the soap from his hand and drop to my knees, running the bar along the inseam of his foot.
He groans, and I can see his cock bobbing hard at my eye level. “Red, I’m going to come if you keep that up.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat? Sounds like a promise to me.” I rub the soap into his skin from feet to thigh on both legs, purposely ignoring his cock for a moment. I stand and get his torso, all his other bits and parts, and savor the feel of his hard muscles under my hands. “You’re so much stronger now. Construction work is good for a body,” I tease.
“I can lift, like, twenty bricks with my dick now,” he replies.
“Oh? That’s impressive.” I soap my hands then put the bar up and reach down to stroke his cock. He jerks against my hand, his head dropping back, his hands on my shoulders.
“Fuck. Fuck. You feel so good,” he murmurs.
The water is warm and it beats hard on our naked bodies. I continue to pump him, and he grows impossibly hard in my palm. I can barely wrap my fingers around his girth. Soon, the water has rinsed the s
oap off his whole body.
Jamison growls and presses me, chest first, against the tile surface of the shower. I gasp at the cold hitting my nipples and making them painfully hard. His hand dives between my cleft from behind and he rubs my pussy. “Oh fuck me, you’re so fucking soaked already. I can feel how wet you are.” He pushes fingers into my cunt and pumps, and my fevered moans make him work harder.
I stick my ass out, begging for his touch, craving it shamelessly. Before I know what’s happening, he’s on his knees and his face is in my ass, and he’s licking my puckered hole. I’ve never felt anything near there before, and I’m shocked into place for a moment. But the wicked, taboo sensation of his tongue flicking my rim, his fingers fucking me, that expert thumb brushing my clit, push me right to the edge. I find myself relaxing, leaning into it.
“God, I fucking love eating your sexy ass,” he groans against me, then he dives back in and his tongue pushes in, and then I’m falling with my orgasm, my screams ricocheting off the tile walls, my fingers grasping to hold me up while my legs tremble. He doesn’t relent, riding me through wave after wave.
Soon, my whole body is shaking as my orgasm fades. He finally pulls his fingers out and stands, pressing gentle kisses along my spine. His other hand wraps around my stomach, tugging my back to him. We’re being caressed by the shower water, our bodies soaked, my mind blissfully empty of all the angst and emotions I’ve been struggling with for weeks.
Jamison shuts the shower off and jumps out to grab a towel for me, wrapping it around my body before I can get chilly. He tucks another around his waist and takes my hand. Leads me into his bedroom, then strips me bare, dropping the towel on the floor and pushing me stomach first onto the bed.
“God damn, that ass is sweet,” he murmurs, lowering his body onto mine, his cock sliding between my cheeks momentarily. His dick feels like a hot iron rod, slickly moving up and down my ass as he bites lightly on the back of my neck.
My pussy gushes again as I cry out. “Jamison, please…fuck me…please,” I beg, my entire body shaking now.
“I’ve waited forever to be inside you again,” he says, “and I’m going to keep fucking you until I’ve had my fill.” I hear the crinkle of the condom as he rolls it on.