Page 61 of Speak from the Heart

“And you need Nana’s radio to move ahead with this?”

“I don’t want to ask.”

“Could you make a lot of money?”

Jess shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “One thing you gotta know about me, Emily, is I don’t care about money. I live with my mom, for God’s sake. I work two jobs because I like them. We didn’t want to give up our dad’s shop, and I help Tom out with QuickFix because that was his before me. None of it is about money.”

The heat in his voice does something to me. A spark. A ripple. I’ve worked and worked and saved and saved, but I can’t say I’m doing what I’m doing because I like it anymore. It’s a job when I wanted a career. I wanted to make a name for myself, but it isn’t happening. Ten years have gone by, and I’m in the same place.

“Must be nice,” I say.

“It is nice. It could happen for you, too.” His brow inches upward. “If you could do anything, what would it be?”

“Have a column like I want.”

“Really?” He tips his head as if he doesn’t believe me, and the niggle of doubt makes me wonder. Do I still want that dream?

Yes, of course, I argue with myself. It’s the only dream I’ve ever had.

Is it really, Emily? The only dream?

“I suppose every columnist wants to eventually write a book, but it takes years of experience and knowledge to write something that offers wisdom.”

“And imparting wisdom would make your mark on the world.”

“Well, maybe not the world,” I tease. “I don’t need world domination, only a little mark here or there. But yeah, making a difference would be nice.”

“You’ve already made a difference here,” he says. He holds my gaze intently, and I’m about to ask him what he means when I think of Katie.

“That’s not the same thing.” My voice softens.

“Why isn’t it?”

“Because . . .” I don’t know. I don’t have an answer for him. Or myself. Why isn’t helping his child enough? Perhaps because she isn’t mine, and I want what Jess has: a child I can call my own. I want to be a mother.

Thankfully, I’m saved by the waiter who’s been waiting on Jess and me to finish so he can leave. Jess pays for our dinner and guides me back to his truck. We ride in silence to Nana’s place. Jess pulls into the driveway and pauses for a moment before he turns off the engine, and I realize he’s going to walk me to the door. Who does such a thing anymore? Most of my dates have dropped me at the curb outside my condo or better yet, sent me home in a taxi on my own.

It’s nice to be walked to the front porch, but he doesn’t stop when I open the door. He follows me inside.

“What are you doing?” I turn to face him as he closes the door behind us. He steps close to me, his chest brushing against mine, and he cups my cheeks with his hands.

“I can’t spend the entire night, but right now, you’re going to lead me upstairs, and I’m going to make love to you.” His mouth covers mine before I can protest.

“You’re so pushy,” I mumble against his tempting lips.

“You have no idea how pushy I want to be with you.”

Well, who can turn down that offer?

Slowly, we climb the stairs. I lead the way, and Jess follows me. When we enter my room, I spin to face him, and his mouth tenderly connects to mine. We stand in the antiquated bedroom and kiss for several minutes before Jess grips my hips and guides me to the bed. Once I’m seated, he returns to kissing me. He pushes me back with his upper body, but he doesn’t climb over me. Not yet.

His mouth leaves mine, travels down my neck, and stops at the swell of cleavage near the edge of my dress.

“You’re so bright,” he whispers to me, palming my breast over my dress. “Everything you wear is colorful.” It’s said with wonder. Does he feel his world is dark?

His hand releases my breast and works its way to the side of my waist, curving over my hip and then down to my thigh. Jess slowly tugs up the material, still braced by his other arm over me. His eyes follow the skirt of my dress rising, revealing more skin until it’s above my thighs. Jess presses off the mattress. Bending at the waist, he leans forward to dot kisses along my thigh while his hands cover my knees, spreading them apart. My legs dangle off the edge of the bed, and they tremble a bit in anticipation of where his hands might lead.

Then he lowers to his knees, and my head pops up. Jess’s focus is between my thighs, and he leans forward to blow hot air over the seam of my damp panties. My breath hitches, and he tugs the lacy material off. He returns to pressing kisses up my inner thigh and gently nudges my legs farther apart. His tongue laps across my sensitive folds, which ache with need and drip with desire. My head falls back as I melt under his attention. A long lap. A slow lick. A sharp nip. It’s nothing like I’ve experienced before. He isn’t in a rush. He isn’t speeding to a finish line. He’s taking his time to worship me, and soon, I’m floating, breaking apart like little stars.