Jett’s little eyebrows rise. “My bike, too?”
“Absolutely, little man, though, you’re probably going to need a new one without training wheels pretty soon.”
He squirms excitedly in my lap and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“And if Mama wants, she can bring some of her stuff here, too,” Jesse says to Jett while staring directly—and intently—at me. “We have this big house, right?”
“Uh huh,” Jett agrees, but I don’t know what to say. Is Jesse asking me to move in or just hinting at those sleepovers we’re hoping to have more of?
“All right, kiddo, I think it’s time for bed. How about Mama tucks you in while I finish those dishes?”
He nods, albeit reluctantly, and after giving Jesse a quick hug, we head upstairs. I let him pick a book from the basket next to his bed—bonus points to Jesse for that—and he’s fighting dreamland by the time I finish.
“Good night, sweet pea. I love you.” I kiss him one last time and quietly exit his room, pulling the door almost closed behind me.
Jesse’s leaning against the railing overlooking the main floor, waiting for me.
“All good?” he asks softly and I nod. “Good. Let’s finish that tour we never finished.”
“Ugh, finally,” I tease, taking his hand as he leads me to the open door at the end of the hall. I gasp as soon as we step inside. “Holy crap.”
To say the room is huge is an understatement. It’s basically a loft, complete with the same tall, beamed ceilings over the kitchen and living areas. There’s a big window at the back, overlooking the rolling yard and a plantation of small pine trees that’s lit up by the moon hanging high in the sky.
Of course, the bed is also enormous, just as I expected. Thick, dark wood, like the rest of the house, but the mountain of fluffy cream pillows and matching bedding is not the masculine style I expected.
“Did Amelia help you with the bedding and the decor?” I ask, trailing my hand along a pretty dresser and then the footboard of the bed, where a chest sits with a thick, chenille throw across the top.
Jesse lingers near the door, hands tucked in his pockets. “No, why?”
“You’re one of the most manly men I know. You like dark things. Your truck, your tattoos… I guess I expected your personal space to be the same.”
“Not everything I like is dark.” He steps forward and twirls a lock of my hair around his finger. “And maybe I didn’t decorate for me.”
“No? Then who?” I smirk, but truthfully the sudden thought of him making this space a little feminine for any company he might have makes me wish I’d had less for dinner.
“I didn’t build this house just for me and Jett, either. I didn’t pick out the cabinets and the flooring, the paint, the furniture… none of it… with only him and I in mind.” He shifts closer, one hand settling on my hip. “You were supposed to marry someone else, but it didn’t stop me from building this house with you in mind, too.”
Goose bumps wash over my skin as his words sink in. “You thought about me?”
“Babe, I always thought about you. Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t like I let myself get too far into my own head, making plans for our future here like some stalker. But I knew I’d raise my family here someday and, since you were the only one I’d ever thought about having one with, I picked out most of this stuff based on what I thought you’d like, too. I guess you could say you were my muse.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, barely whispering, because if I speak any louder, I’ll cry.
“Dead serious.” He smiles knowingly. “I didn’t show you my room before, because it’s bad enough I think of you everywhere else in this house. To have a real-life visual of you in here, all up in my personal space? I’d never be able to friggin’ sleep here again.”
“You’re letting me see now…”
“Because you’re mine now, babe, and even if you aren’t here with me every night, I know you’ll be back.” He tugs me close with his hands on my butt. “I meant what I said before. If you want to bring some things over, you’re more than welcome to. Shit, if you wanted to move all of your stuff in tomorrow, I’d be down for that, too.”
“I mean, maybe I could bring a toothbrush.” I bite my lip. “Some clean panties, too. As a start.” As incredible as it would be to live under the same roof as him—and as sure as I am that someday I will—right now seems a little too soon.
His lashes lower and a low groan rolls in his chest. “That’s what I’m talking about. By the way, the panties you have on right now, babe?”
“Yeah?”
“The first to grace this room.”
“Don’t play with me like that, frat boy.” Because I’m not sure how much more of his sweetness I can take until I push him onto that bed and show him just how much I like it.
“Not playing.” He leans down and brushes a kiss across my lips. When he tries to break away, I pull him back again, hands wound in the waistband of his jeans.
“Where you going, handsome?”
“Was just going to give you a closer look at the bed.”
“Uh huh, that’s what I though—ahhh!”
He scoops me up in a one fluid move, takes three steps to the bed, and drops me down.
As he crawls over me smirking beneath feral eyes, I make quick work of flipping his button and lowering his zipper, my hand sliding greedily inside.
“You’re asking for trouble, babe.”
“Oh, believe me, I know.”
He gives a low, sexy laugh and, with hands planted on either side of my head, lowers his mouth to lick across my lips.
“That’s what I want to do to your pussy,” he husks. “I want you to hold on to that headboard and fuck my face until you come all over it.”
Oh, God. “It’s a nice headboard.”
Another laugh rolls in his chest and then suddenly we’re nothing but greedy hands and discarded clothing, hot, wet kisses and skin sliding against skin on top of the covers.
“I want to taste you,” he murmurs, slowing making his way down my body and kissing every inch of me as he goes.
I don’t try and stop him this time. We’re beyond that now, and there isn’t a bit of me I’ll ever hide from him again.
With his shoulders between my thighs, he plants slow, wet kisses everywhere but where I need him most until I twitch and shake in his arms.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and then finally—finally—dips in for that taste. His tongue dances around my clit and then lower over my lips where I’m already so wet.
My fingers slide into his hair as he pushes one and then two fingers into me, and my hips lift from the bed when he hits exactly the right spot.
He chuckles, low and throaty, and then dives in again, laving and teasing and fucking me with his fingers until I almost burst.
“Come here,” he urges, suddenly sitting up and flipping to his back, tugging me along with him. “Climb up. Hands on the headboard.”
Oh, God.
“Don’t be shy, babe.” His grin is wicked and his beard already wet. “I want to make you feel good.”