Page 42 of Speak from the Heart

“I’m sorry I didn’t have it sooner,” he whispers next to me as I stare at the antique piece.

“I’m sure they can hear it,” I reply, thinking of both my grandparents. I close my eyes, and just for a moment, I see them as I did when I was a child. They danced in a corner of the living room. My grandfather buried his face in her neck. My grandmother giggled. It’s such a romantic memory.

“Looks like you got a lot done yesterday,” Jess says, interrupting my thoughts. I follow his gaze to the front door, and he eyes the boxes without saying anything else.

“How’s Katie?” I ask. I haven’t seen her since my visit to Jess’s mother’s house.

“She’s doing surprisingly well with the picture program, although I shouldn’t be surprised as kids are so technologically advanced. She used the program the other day to tell me what she wanted to wear—Cinderella dress-up shoes with her shorts.” Jess smiles and shakes his head. She’s a girl who already knows her mind and her fashion.

“She misses you,” he adds, not even thinking twice about what he said.

“I miss her.” It’s true. I feel something for his child, something I most likely shouldn’t.

A song on the radio changes to one with a slower tempo, and Jess walks around the room to turn off two of the lamps I had on. He returns to where I’m standing, stops before me, and holds up a hand.

“Dance with me?”

It’s so Grandpa and Nana, and I accept. Jess wraps his hand around mine and pulls me close, nuzzling at my ear, and I shiver with the thought I’m living their happily ever after for the length of a song.

How I wish this could be a reality for me.

“How did you come up with this design?” I ask, feeling like I should speak despite the music.

“I told you, I’m an electrical engineer by trade.”

“You must have worked hard at this.”

“I liked the challenge.”

I pull back to smile up at him. As a stubborn man, I suppose challenges do give him both frustration and entertainment.

“The idea of restoring sound . . .” His voice trails, and I read into what he isn’t saying. He can’t fix his little girl and her lack of speech, but he could fix this old radio and make it sing.

“Oh Jess,” I say, melting against him.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but let’s not talk right now.”

“Okay,” I whisper before tucking my head back against his chest and closing my eyes as the female crooner bellows about love at last.

As the song nears its end, I lean away again and look up at Jess. The electric crackle between us is like the flickering of lights during a thunderstorm. His mouth lowers to mine, and we move together. No longer swaying to the music but rocking against one another. The kiss heats as do other parts, and Jess lowers his lips to my jaw and then my neck. He tugs at my T-shirt collar and nips the juncture near my shoulder.

“We should stop,” he states. “But God help me, I don’t want to.”

I step out of his embrace, reach for the final light in the room, and turn it off. We fall into darkness minus the soft glow of the old radio. When I return to Jess, I slip my arms up over his shoulders. With lips reattached, we move around the room as best we can until we reach the couch. I lie back on the cushions, and Jess follows.

It’s another slow dance involving the removal of clothing. My shirt. Then his. My shorts. Then his. His mouth travels over my chest, kissing me everywhere before tugging down a cup of my bra and diving for a breast. The warm cavern of his mouth sucks at the swell before his tongue circles my nipple, tugging at it until the sharp nub peaks. He nips at me, and I groan. With my breast trussed up by my bra, Jess moves to the other breast, paying it equal attention before removing the silky material and dropping it to the floor. He stares down at me.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, his voice full of worship in a way I’ve never heard before. The warmth of his chest heats the sensitive peaks of my breasts when he returns to kissing me. The skin-on-skin contact isn’t enough. I need us touching everywhere, and my hands slip into his boxers, struggling to tug them over his hips. Jess presses off the couch, stands and removes them, and I stare at the thickness protruding toward me. I reach for him, but he gently catches my hand.

“Not yet.” He slides his fingers under the edge of my underwear and slips the material down my body slowly, drawing out the torture before tossing it to the floor. He stares down at my languid position on the couch, lying across the cushions, and I watch him.

“I liked you over me the other night,” he admits, and I sit up. As he’s still standing, I reach for him once again, curling my fist around his stiffness. He groans as I squeeze before guiding him closer to me. I lean forward, open my lips, and take him in. At first, I draw him all the way to the back of my throat and then take my time to release him. His fingers comb into my hair as he hisses.

“This isn’t what I intended for tonight.”

Does he mean this shouldn’t happen, like he said about our first kiss?

I release him and he looks down at me. “I mean, I want to be with you. I’m not here for only me.” He bends at the waist, taking my mouth with his again and then moves us so he’s the one seated, and I straddle him. My legs tremble as my inner thighs meet the tops of his where his coarse hairs prickle on my skin. My core pulses as my sensitive folds brush against his thickness. His hands coast up my sides and circle my breasts before skimming down my belly, touching as much of me as he can.