Page 71 of Echoes of a Southern Song

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jack

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I DON’T WANT TO PRESUME anything as I walk her to the door. She’s been through hell. I wouldn’t blame her if she wants some time to be alone and decompress.

She opens her door and looks at me expectantly. I kiss her—slow, sweet, the kind of kiss that says finally. She tastes like chocolate. The storm’s passed. She’s free. We’re free. And I’m not ready to let her go yet.

Her fingers wrap around my tie, tugging me closer. “Come inside,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

I don’t hesitate.

She closes the door and nearly pounces on me. “I want this,” she says, lips against my jaw. “I want you.”

She doesn’t have to say it twice.

Her fingers dance down my chest, unbuttoning my shirt as I back her against the door. I cup her face, my thumb brushing across her cheekbone. She’s so beautiful.

“This is what you want?” I ask, sliding one hand to her waist and pulling our hips together.

She nods, kissing me softly on the lips before pulling away to tug at my shirt collar impatiently. She jerks the tie loose, letting it fall to the floor. “I need this,” she murmurs, reaching for my belt buckle.

I laugh softly as she struggles with it, fingers fumbling with the clasp. But once it’s loose, she attacks it like her life depends on it, half-laughing as she pulls it free. My pants hit the floor before I can even think about taking them off myself.

She steps out of her skirt leaving them in a discarded heap by the door. I jerk at her blouse, pulling it over her head and dropping it on the pile. It only takes a few seconds to shed the rest of our clothes. We’re both naked now, our breathing heavy. Yeah, we’ve done this a lot, but it feels like we’re different people.

She’s different. She’s free. She can truly be mine.

I grab her face and kiss her. Her back presses against the wall, our bodies flush against each other with nothing between us. The heat of her skin against mine is electric, sending sparks through every nerve ending.

“Jinnie,” I breathe against her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone.

She arches into me, her nails digging into my shoulders as I lift her up. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively. I press her harder against the wall for support. The position aligns us perfectly. I can feel her heat against me, ready and wanting.

“Now,” she whispers urgently in my ear. “I need you now.”

“Condom?”

“I’m on the pill. You’re the only one I’ve been with and will be with.”

I can’t explain what happens. Raw need flows through me. “And you’re the only one I’m with. You’re mine, Jinnie.”

I adjust my stance, bracing one hand against the wall beside her head, the other gripping her hip as I push into her slowly. She gasps, her head falling back against the wall with a soft thud. I pause, savoring the sensation of being inside her, of being connected this way.

“You okay?” I ask, voice strained with the effort of holding still.

“Yes,” she breathes, eyes fluttering open to meet mine. “Don’t stop.”

I start to move, finding a rhythm that has her moaning with each thrust. The wall provides the perfect leverage as I drive deeper, harder. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling slightly as she whispers my name like a prayer.

“Jack, Jack, Jack...”

It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

I grip her tighter, our bodies slick with sweat now as the pace intensifies. Her legs tighten around me. I can feel her starting to tremble. She’s close. So am I. Everything about this moment is heightened—the relief of the trial being over, the freedom of no more secrets, the pure, unfiltered connection between us.

“I’m right here,” I tell her, pressing my forehead against hers as I feel her beginning to unravel. “Let go, Jinnie. I’ve got you.”