Fucking hell. I swallow thickly as I get lost in her eyes. I want to ask, to make sure we are on the same page, but it’s already so different than it was before. I resisted her because of Lilly and the bullshit she was causing me, not knowing at the time she was pregnant. Plus, Jaylin got super drunk that night, and I’m not sleeping with a drunk chick. That’s shitty since you’re never sure they know what’s happening. After that, we never really had a chance to get physical. There was loads of texting and talking on the phone. I helped with getting Aviva a car once, but that was it. I knew off the bat Jaylin only wanted to hook up at the time, but this feels really different. Then again, we never got to this point. Two consenting adults with nothing holding us back.
Sure, there are questions I could ask, but why ask them when we both want the same thing? We can figure out the rest later. Right now, I don’t want to overthink; I don’t want to do anything but feel her body beneath mine, on mine, and on my mouth.
“You’re thinking again.”
I smirk. “I am.”
“Stop,” she urges. “Just go with it.”
I exhale heavily as I nod. After getting Celeste changed and tucked in, we leave the room, once I make sure the camera is on, along with her night-light. As I gently shut the door, I say, “She’s a good sleeper. She should be out the rest of the night.”
“Wow, Callie never slept through the night.”
I grin. “Yeah, I don’t think most kids do. I think God knew I was overwhelmed with the whole daddy thing.”
“Whatever. You’re a pro,” she says.
I shake my head. “I didn’t have a dad to learn from, and my mom is more concerned with her new family than me. I really have no guidance. I do a lot of Google.”
She leans into me, pressing her hand into my chest as she runs her thumb along my collarbone through my shirt. “I couldn’t tell one bit.”
The way her eyes glow, her lips shine with gloss, and that little smirk on her mouth gives me the chills. I can’t resist. I lean in, capturing her mouth with mine. I gather her hair in my hands, holding her tight to me as our kiss deepens and her hands slide to my back, down to my ass. She squeezes me close to her, and I gasp roughly against her lips. I feel her heat, and I know she feels the hardness I’ve had to fight back for the last couple hours. Hell, every time I see her.
I lick her top lip and then kiss her before walking her backward to my room. Her hands come up, grabbing my jaw, and I stop, cupping her by the back of her thighs to lift her off the ground. If I don’t, I’m going to trip over her. Before we enter my room, though, I pull back, looking up into her gorgeous face.
She seems confused, her eyes wild as I whisper unevenly against her lips, “You sure?”
“Kirby,” she says, running her thumbs along my jaw. “I’ve been sure. I was just waiting for you.”
I’m lost in her eyes, and I don’t want to be found. Fuck it, let me die right here, and I’ll be damn fine. But I hesitate. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I know you didn’t intend on being with me tonight.”
She grins. “I wanted to be with you. But instead, I had to settle for some bullshit. I’m good. Are you good?”
I don’t answer at first. I gaze into her eyes. Something’s holding me back. “I know what he said to you.”
Her fingers dancing along my jaw. “What?”
“He called you a slut or a whore or whatever, and I want you to know I don’t believe that for one second. But I also don’t want you to think I just assume you want to sleep with me.”
Her lips curve at the sides as she runs her fingers along my lips. “But I do want to sleep with you.”
“But you’re not a whore, Jaylin. You’re a queen.”
When she gives me that full, stunning grin, all her teeth showing, I can’t handle it. I bring her mouth to mine, and I kiss her urgently. I carry her into my room and sit back on the bed so she is in my lap. I tear my mouth from hers and lift her dress up and over her body as she does the same to my shirt. I trail my mouth down her neck, her collarbone, as I unfasten her bra.
“Hey.”
I pause my hands, kissing her neck before asking, “Yeah?”
“Um…” I pull my head out of her neck to meet her gaze. She’s hesitant. Something is wrong, and I worry I did something. “Remember, I had breast cancer.”
I nod. “I do.”
“Okay, so keep in mind…my boobs are different.”
I search her worried, uncertain gaze. She told me all about her cancer back when we first started talking. I love how open she is about it. How proud she is that she beat it. She’s so resilient in my eyes. I hate that she suffered, that she almost died right beside Aviva. They both battled and won. I’m not the least bit worried about what she doesn’t have, what’s real or fake. I only care about her. All of her. She could have one boob, and I’d still think she is the most gorgeous woman in the world.
It’s not her breasts; it’s her eyes.
I swear they’re like a window to her soul.
And what an exquisite soul she has.
It almost bothers me that she feels the need to express her concerns, but I guess I’m not surprised. Look at the jackass she was with tonight. He wouldn’t appreciate her the way I am about to. He wouldn’t give her everything the way I plan to. I may have no dad, I may have been raised by a shit of a mother, but all that only taught me how to be more than that. How to make someone feel the way I always wanted to feel.
God, I want her.
I need her.
I’m going to have her, and damn it, I’m going to make her feel like the most gorgeous woman in the world.
Because she is.
I curve my lips into a large smile, looking deep into her soulful eyes. “I know there was a year-long pause in our time together, but do I come off as the kind of guy that cares about that?”
Chapter Eleven
Jaylin
* * *
There are defining moments in a woman’s life.
I’ll never forget the day I first got my period. How I bled everywhere in my yellow capri pants in sixth grade. My first kiss with Tim Bernard and what was almost my first time with him. All of it happened at once, super overwhelming. The lump I found beneath my right breast, that’s scarred in my brain. The day I beat cancer, the day I got into law school, the day I was hired by Feliciana, and now, I’ll never forget the day that Kirby Litman looked at me and said those words.
Do I look like the kind of guy that would care about that?
I know he isn’t. He doesn’t see skin, or scars. He sees past that. But my breasts are my only source of self-consciousness. I know I’m one badass bitch. I know I am gorgeous, successful, and a force to be reckoned with, but it only takes one man, with one wrong look or one word about my breasts, and I’ll admit it—I cry like a damn baby. Though, I know good and well that Kirby would never say anything nor look at me differently. I said it for myself. To be a warning, because I couldn’t handle it. I want him so damn bad. I want him more than my next breath, and if he isn’t going to be comfortable with my fake tits and tattooed nipples, I’ll be broken.