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The world shatters. His fingers dig into my body, keeping me from spinning into space. I do love him, even if it’s too early and we’re all wrong for each other. He’s the only place in the world where I’ve felt I belong. I could travel everywhere and still have my home if he just stays at my side.
We break apart.
“Hey,” he says softly.
I swallow hard.
“Please don’t leave this time,” I manage, voice shaking.
He cups my face. “Hey, hey, I won’t, sweetheart. Swear it.”
“Cross your heart?”
“You can do that for me,” he says, kissing my forehead. “It’s all yours.”
My jaw drops, then I’m laughing. Or am I crying? I can’t tell, and it doesn’t matter because he gathers me in his arms and kisses me hard. My arms wrap around his neck, and he lifts me right off my feet.
“You think Jenna will notice if I come see you at the farmhouse?” he asks.
“There are outdoor cameras.
“Eh, it’s fine,” he says, walking back the way I came. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
There are a million things to figure out, to worry about. Right now, I don’t care about a single one. He’s holding me in his arms, carrying me down the path to the house in the most romantic way possible. I cling to him, burying my face against his neck. He smells so good. Everything about him is perfect. I don’t know how I ever got angry with him, ever. Right now, I could drown in Jamie Iron and die happy.
We go inside, and he puts me down, stepping from his boots. I wrestle off my sneakers and he follows me into the kitchen.
“Come here, you,” he says.
“Upstairs,” I hiss.
He grabs my waist, flipping me around and bending me over the kitchen table. Heat tingles in my stomach.
“You got any meetings today?” he breathes.
His hips grind into my ass, dick hard beneath his pants.
“No, not until tomorrow.”
He bites the side of my neck. My spine arches. God, he turns me on just like that, and I’m helpless.
“Then I get you all day,” he says. “And tonight.”
“Yes,” I pant. “Please.”
He runs a hand down my stomach, beneath my leggings to my pussy. My eyes shut, head lolling. The hard pad of his middle finger grazes my clit, then he presses me open and slides two fingers into my pussy. Not deeply, but to the middle knuckle. Enough that it burns in the most delicious way. He braces the heel of his palm and fucks me, short strokes against the front wall.
“Goddamn it,” he says, desperate. “You’re soaked, baby.”
I moan. “I missed you.”
“I can fucking tell.”
He pushes both fingers in deeper, fucking. We’ve done a lot, and he’s made me come countless times, but never this fast. It hits me so hard it takes my breath away. He pulls his fingers from me and yanks my leggings down. Zip—the head of his cock hits my ass as he opens his pants, then slides into my pussy. My head spins, and my palms hit the table, bracing as he starts fucking. Rough, dirty, exactly how I need it.
“I missed you too, baby,” he rasps.
Delirious and so full it hurts a little, I let my head fall back on his shoulder.
