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“It’s just that …”
I sigh, blinking back the tears that rise unbidden to my eyes.
“What, Jade?” he asks quietly, expression flooded with acceptance and…
No, a voice hisses. Not love. Don’t say, love.
Maybe things are moving fast between us – and maybe fast is an understatement – but if I just blurted out the L-word, I bet he’d flip this table over and get the heck out of here as quickly as he could.
“Jade?” he urges, when I fall silent.
“My dad always taught me not to take handouts,” I murmur. “My mom died in childbirth and I’ve always felt so guilty, Jamie—”
“That’s not your fault,” he growls firmly.
“Yeah, I know that,” I sigh. “But there’s a difference between knowing it and feeling it.”
He stands up and pulls his chair around the table, sitting next to me and putting his arm around my shoulder, hugging me close. It’s only when his strong hand comes to rest on my bare arm that I realize I’ve failed at holding back my tears.
I sob softly, leaning against him.
“I’m ruining our dinner,” I moan.
“By being human? By being yourself? No, Jade, you’re not ruining anything.”
“I told my dad I’d never take handouts,” I cry. “It was so important to him.”
“I understand,” Jamie says. “I won’t push you to leave the waitressing job if it’s going to hurt you. But you’re just so damn talented, and you deserve the space to work on that talent. It’s not a handout, because you’re going to be paying me back with our children, with our closeness … and with that fine-as-fuck body of yours. And you’re going to be working, Jade, just working on what you want to do.”
“Is it okay if I think about it?” I say, biting back another sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”
He laughs darkly and strokes the tears from my cheeks with his thumb.
“There you go again,” he says softly. “Worrying that you have to put on a show for me. You can seem any damn way you want around me, Jade. I’m still going to want you. Always. Now, shall we order?”
I giggle as he hands me a napkin from the table.
I use it to wipe away the last of my tears.
“Well, considering that we’re in a restaurant, that might be an idea, right?”
He smirks at me and I smile back.
I wish I could freeze this moment, the look in his eyes is so understanding, so possessive, as though the universe is telling me that as long as I’m his, nothing can ever hurt me.
Chapter Sixteen
Jade
After dinner, I tell him that I’m ready, even as my heart pommels my chest and tingles dance up and down my body. As we ride the elevator up to the presidential suite of the hotel, I silently wonder if the champagne was truly non-alcoholic, but that’s just my writer’s mind going into overdrive again.
In a thriller, a man might order non-alcoholic champagne and secretly dose it with hard liquor to make me more compliant.
But not Jamie, not my man.
No, I have to face this stone cold sober, with all my nervous and anxiety dancing around me.
His hand presses firmly against the small of my back, just above my ass, sending electrifying tendrils all through me, my sex screaming out in desire even as I clench my fists to fight off the urge to flee.
I don’t want to run, per se.
It’s more like all the anxiety I’ve ever felt concerning my sexual inexperience has chosen now to rear its ugly head within me.
Jamie leans close and whispers in my ear, his breath warm and tickling.
“Say the word and we don’t have to do this tonight,” he says. “But don’t think you’re getting away that easily. I’m still going to suck those gorgeous tits again. I’m still going to taste those creamy lips. I’m still going to palm that big round juicy ass of yours.”
I let out a gasp, wriggling against him.
“I want it,” I tell him, voice trembling. “I’m just nervous. Will you … help me?”
“I’ll lead the way princess,” he promises. “You don’t have to worry. Once those wet virgin lips feel what it’s like to have a big throbbing cock between them, you won’t want me to stop. Your body won’t let you. Just like when you sucked my dick and swallowed my seed like a horny sex goddess, you’ll know what to do.”
I hope, I think but don’t say.
The bedroom is downright royal.
I stand at the door, letting my eyes move over the four poster bed, the portraits hanging off the walls, the patterned expensive looking rugs, and the golden fireplace crackling and filling the room with a warmth I can feel even from here.
The curtains are drawn, the fire spreading its light, joining with the electric sconce lights set elegantly within the walls.
