"I bet you spoil him too."
Jason smirks at me. "Maybe a little. Come on, let's get you fed."
I follow him as he moves deeper into the house. Gomer stays with me, pacing at my side like he really is my guard dog now. He moves slowly, placing his massive paws carefully. He doesn't put as much weight on his front left paw as the others. I guess it probably still bothers him.
I look around as Jason leads the way. His house is really nice. The floors are all shining hardwood, and the furniture is rustic and sturdy. There's a massive fireplace in the living room, with an L-shaped couch and a chaise next to it. A giant television hangs on the wall opposite the furniture, with game consoles arranged neatly beneath. There are family pictures hanging all over the place.
The kitchen is a massive farm kitchen, with a giant island in the center. Pots and pans hang from a rack above. A big table with bench seats sit on the far side, next to big bay windows that look out over the backyard. The backdoor has a doggie door in it for Gomer to get in and out. The room is warm and inviting, the kind of place a family would spend hours in, playing games and talking over the table.
"I love your house," I murmur.
"I love seein' you in my house, pretty baby."
Gomer heads toward the food bowl set up near the table.
Jason pulls open the doors of the pantry to retrieve his food and then strides across the room to fill the bowl. Gomer looks at the bowl and then turns and gives Jason a disbelieving look.
"Don't act like you're starving," Jason chuckles. He also shakes a little more food out into the bowl, which makes me smile. His sister definitely isn't the only one who spoils Gomer. "You're on a diet, man."
Gomer huffs at him and then flops down on his belly and tips the bowl over so the food spills across the floor in front of him.
"I don't know why I even put it in a bowl," Jason mutters, coming back toward me. "He refuses to eat anything unless it's on the floor." He puts Gomer's food back in the pantry and then prowls toward me, backing me up against the island.
I drape my arms over his shoulders, tilting my head back for kisses.
He obliges, brushing his lips back and forth across mine in gentle passes. Even that small contact has my legs trembling beneath me and heat unfurling inside me. He makes me feel so much, so easily. It's honestly incredible. With one touch, I catch like kindling, flames licking to life all up and down my body.
"What do you want to eat?"
"I'm not very hungry," I admit, my head dropping back when he runs his lips down my cheek and then onto my throat. "That feels so good."
"Yeah?" He rakes his teeth down my sensitive skin before nipping me.
I moan his name.
"I love the way you say my name when you want me," he says, working sexual voodoo on my body again. He wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me tighter, seaming our bodies together. His erection presses into my stomach, hard and insistent. "You've got this breathy little whine that makes my dick hard as a rock."
"I noticed."
He chuckles and nips at my skin again.
He stops laughing at me when I drag my hand down his chest and abdomen before cupping him through his pants. There's a wet spot on them, though I'm not sure if that's from me earlier or if it's from him. Feeling it there is sexy as hell though. So is the way he growls my name like he's warning me that he's on the edge.
"I don't want food, Jason. I want the ride you promised me," I whisper, rubbing him through his slacks.
"Fuck." He plunges his hand into my hair, angling his mouth down over mine. His kiss is reckless and a little wild, like he really is on edge, the bonds of his self-control slipping. His teeth sink into my bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth.
My stomach clenches, desire rocketing through me so fast I gasp in surprise. I never knew that could feel so good, but it's almost as if my lip is connected to that pleasure center deep in my womb. I feel it again when he sucks hard on my lip, and then again when he pinches my nipple through my top. His tongue strokes against mine, his kiss scorching in intensity.
Somehow, he manages to swing me up in his arms without breaking our kiss. We break apart, both breathing raggedly as he carries me through the kitchen and back into the living room. I run my hands through his hair, tugging on the short strands. He growls, nearly running into the wall when I bury my face in his throat and bite him like he does me.
I do it again, loving the taste of his skin. It's clean, with a tiny hint of salt. His amber and wood scent wreaks havoc on my sense. He smells incredible. If home has a smell, it's him. If desire does, it's him too. The connection between us is undeniable. What I felt last night is stronger than ever, those electric pulses unrelenting as he stomps up the stairs, headed toward his bedroom.
My body thrills in anticipation of what's coming. I've never been with a man before, and I should probably be nervous, but I'm not. No part of me is afraid of giving him this part of myself. I want him to have it, want him to be my first, my only…my forever. I don't just want him. I need him, like oxygen or water.
"Jason?" I whisper when he hits the top of the stairs.
He tips his head down to look at me, his eyes blazing with need. I see the truth shining there too…the one I've been so afraid to let myself see. I'm not afraid now though. With his arms around me, how can I be anything but brave enough to reach for heaven?
He won't let me fall.
"I love you."
His nostrils flare. His pupils dilate. His hands tighten on me. "Say it again," he demands, his voice a rough rasp that settles right between my thighs.
"I love you." I stroke his cheek. Smile at him. Giving him my heart isn't nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be. It's…effortless. Like it was always meant to be his. "I'm ridiculously, hopelessly in love with you."
He says nothing until we're in his room and I'm on my back on his bed, with him hovering over me. I don't even look at his room. I can't look away from him.
"You love me, pretty baby?" he asks, staring down at me like I'm the most extraordinary thing he's ever seen before. I realize then that he's looked at me like this since the very beginning. It's always been right there in his eyes, waiting for me to find the courage to look.
"I do."
His eyes flutter closed, his lips parting as if he's found a little slice of heaven himself. He stays just like that for a moment, basking, I think. He's a sight to behold, so fierce and radiant. He's a warrior, handed the gates to the kingdom and told that it's his.
And then he pops his eyes open to focus on me again.
"I loved you before I knew your name," he says, leaning down to rest his lips against my forehead. He lingers for a moment before pulling back to meet my gaze again. "I love you even more now that I know you, sweet Miranda. I've been falling since I met you. I don't want to stop."
"Then don't," I whisper, smiling up at him. "Make me yours."
"Plan on it, cowgirl." He hits me with another lazy grin, brushing hair away from my face. "I'm claimin' that cherry and that womb in one go."
"You want to get me pregnant?"