I rest my chin on his chest and look up at him. “Ever wonder how we found each other so young?”
He kisses my forehead. “I would never question what brought me to you. I’m just thankful that I found you. I’m only upset about how much time I wasted.”
I strip my gaze away from his. “There’s something I have to tell you,” I murmur into his chest. “Something that might change that look on your face.”
He steps away from me, grabs his phone, and lowers the volume. “Come.” Taking my hand in his, he leads me to the edge of the bed. “Nothing will take this look off my face. Yer my entire world. You and Palmer.”
But he’s wrong. What I’m about to tell him could change it, but if we’re going to truly start fresh, he needs to know. “Don’t say that yet.”
“What is it?” He dips down so our eyes meet.
“After Palmer was born, I fell into a bit of a depression. After her diagnosis, I didn’t know what to do. How to give her the life she deserved. Whether I could afford her medical costs or even help her. To be her advocate. The doctors said it was postpartum depression. Stella still reminds me that it happens to a lot of women, but I wasted time lying in bed, feeling sorry for myself, while my family helped take care of our daughter.”
He closes his eyes.
“I know. I’m sorry. Here I’ve made you feel horrible about not chasing us and not being there when I had my own secret.” Seriously, how hypocritical can I be?
He laughs and puts his finger under my chin for me to look at him. “I love hearing you say our daughter. You’ve never referred to Palmer as our daughter.”
She sighs. “Jamie, are you listening to me?” I stand from the edge of the bed. “I allowed others to care for her. I didn’t get out of bed. I lost all my baby weight plus more. If it wasn’t for Kingston and Stella, who knows what would’ve happened? I was a mess.”
He leans forward with his forearms resting on his legs. “You were a young single mother who’d just found out her baby was deaf. That’s a challenge for anybody. I’m not trying to boost my ego, but you were still dealing with the loss of me in your life too.”
“That’s no excuse. It’s a mother’s instinct to care for her child and I just left her with other people.” I stare at the floor and shake my head. He doesn’t understand the severity. I wasn’t taking care of our child.
“I will not allow you to feel guilt for what was out of your control. Your hormones were going crazy, not to mention your life had just changed profoundly and then changed again with Palmer’s diagnosis. You were bound to crash. Yer not superhuman.” He stands and again urges me to look at him. “Didn’t we just say the past is the past?”
“I wanted you to know. In case that changes anything.”
He puts his hands on my cheeks to make sure I can’t tear my vision away. “All it makes me feel is more guilt that I allowed you to live through that alone. But I’m here to tell you that I’m never leaving your side again. End of story, okay?”
I nod, not convinced. But I did forgive myself as much as I could a year ago—after a therapist told me that I can’t keep feeling guilty about the past. I have to live with it but forgive myself.
“Can I kiss you now? You don’t have anything else to divulge to me?”
I shake my head. “Conscience clear.”
“Good.” He bends forward, and I rise on my tiptoes to meet him halfway.
Our lips touch and I’ve never felt so much spark from one connection. It’s always been like this with Jamison. I inch closer, unable to be close enough to him, and his hands wrap around my back, molding to my hips until I’m flush against him.
The kiss is hurried, our lips battling for dominance in a game that neither of us wants to lose. But it’s been so long. So long since I’ve been with anyone. My libido is as fast as a Learjet racing down a runway. I go from nothing to needy in an instant.
“Take off my dress,” I say, falling down to my heels and turning around for him to get to the zipper.
He lowers the zipper too slowly for my liking. If he ripped it, I wouldn’t be upset. His palms aren’t nearly as calloused as I’m used to when they skim across my shoulders, urging the fabric off my skin to pool around my waist. I’m about to push it to the floor when his lips press against my right shoulder blade.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Your beautiful body. The way your skin breaks out in goose bumps when I touch it. I can’t wait to hear the moans that float out of you.” His hands push the dress down from my hips and it cascades to the floor. His fingers unhook my bra and he slides it off my body until it joins my dress. “Still so damn beautiful. I’ve dreamed of this exact moment so many times during the years we’ve been apart, but none of it lives up to being here now, with you. To have my hands on your body, my lips on your delicate skin.”
He clears his throat as though his emotions are getting the best of him. I circle around, and his gaze washes over my body up until it lands on my face again. There’s no disappointment or regret. If anything, his eyes only become more ravenous.
“Make love to me, Jamie,” I say and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my mostly naked body to his.
His large hands slide under the elastic of my panties to grab my ass. Turning us around, he eases me down on the bed and I elbow my way up while he disrobes not nearly as fast as I’d like him too.
“Grab the condoms,” I say right before he’s about to join me on the bed.
“Good thing yer the smart one out of the two of us.” He tosses them on the bed, and they land right next to my head.
His lips fall to my skin and my eyes close, reveling in the feeling of being home again. All those fears about the changes in my body disappear. I should’ve known better. Jamison loves me, not my body.
This man has owned me since the first time I saw him on my high school soccer field. From the first smile. First flirtatious glance. First handhold. The song he played is called “I’m Yours,” and that goes both ways for us. I’m his forever, and he’s mine.
Twenty-Four
Sedona
Jamison’s lips stop at my C-section scar and I inhale a deep breath. He presses his lips to the scar and continues casting small kisses up my torso until his mouth covers my breast. He twirls his tongue around my nipple, making it grow harder. Good thing I stopped pumping two weeks ago, but I’m worried the stimulation might cause me to leak.
Our legs are entwined as he kisses me, his hand on my throat, dictating where he wants me. His tongue runs up my neck, his hard length grinding into my center. I raise my hips to meet his and he chuckles, shaking his head. Then he disappears down my body, nestling himself between my legs. Both hands run along my inner thighs, widening me for him. He lightly kisses my clit and our gazes meet.
“Ride my face?” he asks. Years ago, he would’ve just flipped me over and urged me above him. “I mean, if yer up for it.”
I slide up in the bed. “Stop treating me like a grandma. Lay down, buddy.” I point at the bed.
“Bad reference,” he says.