“Don’t be cute,” she says, and it only makes me smile wider as I crawl up the bed to kneel before her. “Look, the last time you saw me I was… I was seventeen and ran for fun and hadn’t had a baby. I don’t—” She blows her breath out and a silver tear drips down her cheek, instantly wiping the grin off my face. “I don’t have the same body I did then, but you… you look like a freaking supermodel under that button-down and I just don’t—I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
Disappointed?
She said she hasn’t been with anyone else, so I know it wasn’t some asshole who put that thought in her head, but nonetheless it’s there and I sure as hell won’t stand for it.
I banish the tear with a tender swipe of my thumb, and the way she leans into it tells me she’s here, even if she’s self-conscious.
“Avi, tha thu bòidheach,” I say, dusting off my Gaelic and hoping I got it right. Her lip tips up just slightly, so I must have, but I repeat it in English just to drive the point home. “You are beautiful. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my life. God, I can’t take my eyes off of you when you’re around. And I can’t keep from picturing you when you aren’t. There isn’t a curve, or scar, or mark on your body that could change that.”
I run my free hand up her ankle, over her calf until I reach her thigh, letting my long fingers span the space from her outer thigh to her inner thigh. Her breath catches when I slip my hand a few inches higher and she straightens her legs so I’m now straddling them onthe bed, my thumb impossibly close to the apex of her thighs. My other hand skims down to her waist, rucking up the fabric of her shirt just an inch so she can feel the heat of my palm against her skin.
“Can I show you?” I slip my hand an inch higher and she tenses just the slightest amount beneath my fingers. “Can I show you how beautiful you are? Will you let me see you?” I lean forward and press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, watching her eyelids flutter closed in surrender.
“Y-yes,” she stammers. It’s so quiet I barely hear it, and her eyes are shut tight.
“Look at me, mo leannan. I want you to see how badly I want you, exactly like this.”
Her eyes meet mine, the lights making the gold flecks in them shine, and she nods. I offer her one in return, and then with the reverence she deserves, I slowly bring both hands to the hem of her shirt and begin to slide it up her torso.
It’s agonizingly slow, but I won’t rush this. Not with her. Not ever.
As the shirt coasts up past her rib cage, I can see the silvery lines that show the miracle of what she did. Carrying our son—fuck, that thought hits me like a freight train. I gently kiss each one, letting my lips linger over them. The badges of honor she carries for what she did. I sit back up and pull the shirt over her head, take in the quick rise and fall of her chest, the soft white of her bra against her skin, the softness of every inch of her that I can see.
It’s not enough. I need more.
She’s never been with a man who could make her feel every bit as gorgeous as she is. The seventeen-year-old version of me did mybest with all my own nerves and insecurities, but I didn’t know what a woman needed then. Now though… The man I am now plans to worship this woman’s body so she never feels the need to hide it from me again.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Avonlea – Now
Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod.
Jamie’s lips are feather-light as they travel from hip bone to hip bone, showing extra care to every stretch mark, not fazed in the slightest by the differences in my body.
He sits back on his heels, taking my shirt with him, and I let the rest of my insecurity go at the look in his eyes. He can’t fake that look. The desire, the uninhibited longing. Like he’s been waiting for this moment for as long as I have.
He coasts his fingertips from my hands, up the inside of my arms, to my collarbone, where they slip just barely underneath the straps of my bra. My breath catches, the feel of his fingers leaving a branding fire in their wake, just like his kisses did along my belly. I release a rough exhale, and his fingers follow the movement over thecups of my bra as my chest lowers. There is a zing of anticipation as they pass over where my nipples are peaked under the fabric.
“Jamie,” I breathe, eyes squeezing shut. The sensations, the fact that it’s him with me right now… It’s overwhelming.
“Is this okay? We can slow down. We don’t have to—”
“No,” I pant, opening my eyes and mustering every ounce of confidence within me. “I don’t want slow, not with you.”
That fire in his eyes burns brighter and the smile that goes with it reduces me to my basest instincts. It’s the smile I’ve always loved, the smile I’ve missed more than air these past eleven years. It’s my smile. I press up into a sitting position and pull my legs in so I’m on my knees before him. We’re eye to eye now, only inches separating us, and I’m ready to close that gap, but I want to seehimfirst.
The green paint of my fingernails stands out against the white of his button-down, making their trembling that much more obvious. I curl them under the hem and, with painful slowness, move to undo the bottom button, and then another, exposing the skin I’ve dreamt of for years. Seeing him in the garden with his shirt off was nothing compared to having him this close. He’s intoxicating. The masculine scent of him overtakes my senses as I move higher. My fingers trail ever so gently against the smooth skin on his sides and he shivers.
I reach his chest and feel his heart beating frantically beneath my hands. He shifts his shoulders back so I can slide the shirt off and finish what I started. I throw it to the floor where it lands with a soft thud and my hands are on him, hungry to memorize every inch of exposed skin. But what I want more is his skin on mine, so I surge forward, moving my hands into his hair as our bodies collide. Mysoftness against his hard lines and muscle, a perfect dichotomy. A perfect fit.
The give and take of our lips, tongues, teeth, all show how desperate we are. The rest of the world always disappeared when we got our mouths on each other, and that hasn’t changed. But this kiss… this one is world-ending, devastating, the kiss to beat out all other kisses. Because this kiss isn’t two teenagers fumbling with feelings and nerves, nor is it laced with the unknown like those of the last two weeks. It’s knowing and being known. It is a revelation, a promise. This kiss is everything.
We don’t slow—our mouths fused, hands roaming, breathing ragged—but we do shift, moving until we’re lying on the bed with Jamie firmly propped between my thighs. I can feel him hard against me, and when he shifts his body forward an inch, I gasp, fireflies dancing behind my eyelids.
He trails his lips to my ear with another roll of his hips. Another gasp escapes. “We can do this all night, Avi. I can get you there and I can come in my pants like a teenager and we can think about doing more another time, or…”
“Or. I definitely want whatever comes after thator. Please.” I’m a whimpering mess, but I don’t even care because this is Jamie, and he’s pressed against me in a way that has my entire body built up like a volcano. I’m sure Icouldactually come like this, but that’s not how I want it. Not tonight.
