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“Jameson,” I breathed, unable to muster any more volume under the force of his strokes. “Please,” I begged, although I wasn’t entirely sure what I was asking of him. When he slid himself free, I couldn’t even protest, because, in the next breath, I was flat on my back. His weight settling over me was absolutely hedonistic, his lips slamming into mine. Jameson hitched my knee up, sliding his cock back home as our gazes locked.
Desperate kisses and roaming hands were overshadowed by the way he looked like he might die if he couldn’t have this—haveme. I had to agree, nervous that I’d disintegrate into nothing if he didn’t finish what we’d started. His eyes locked on mine, as though he was determined to peer into my very depths. Breathless pants gave way to moans of ecstasy, Jameson releasing harsh grunts of effort as he took up an animalistic pace.
There was nothing formal about this, nothing fake or uncertain.
This was a claiming.
This was the two of us coming clean, connecting in the most base and simultaneously the most spiritual kind of conquest as the reality of what we’d found—what we were in the process of creating—crashed through us. Sex had never been accompanied by the soul-deep devastation that overwhelmed me as I watched Jameson’s focus on my face as he ravaged me entirely. When my head lolled backward, eyes rolling until they had to shut, he growled back at me.
“No, baby, not today. Eyes on me, Noel.” Fighting the lust-hooded satisfaction, I forced my lids open, snapping my gaze back to his face. The intensity of those steel-blues ignited something primal in me as he stared straight into my soul. “Good girl. Watch me fuck you, baby.” Mouth popping open, I stared at where our bodies collided, his pace only slightly less ruthless as he, too, took the time to admire where we joined. “You’remine, baby,” he said, tone heavy and reverent, like I was something sacred to be worshiped by the man braced above me. “Fuck, I’ll never get enough of you.”
“Me either.”
“Come,Noel. Show me who you belong to.”
Damn, no pressure. I laughed breathlessly, mouth falling open as I devoured the sight of his body against mine. Of this courageous man I loved more than life, who bore angry purple bruises across his ribs and lean abs from the fearless way he’d defendedme.
“I love you,” I said with a desperate exhale. His eyes flared, hips cracking forward impossibly harder.
“I loveyou. Now,come, beautiful.”
When his relentless efforts at last conducted the perfect combination of sensations, the ensuing orgasm shattered my very being. Every inch of me—hair to tiptoes—succumbed to his demands before liquefying with pleasure. Neither of us could summon the strength to move, our sweaty naked bodies pooling together on the floor.
Drifting in and out of sleep, we just relished being together for what felt like a lifetime. Vaguely, I registered that my back and knees were smarting with what could only be rug burn, but I couldn’t even summon a solitary fuck to give. They could be raw for all I cared. The ecstasy was worth it.
It wasn’t until Jameson’s phone vibrated for the third consecutive time that he sighed, finally sliding out of me to snatch his cell from where it had hit the floor.
Brow furrowed, he glanced from his cell to my face, concern lining his expression as he answered, “Yo, Charlie, what’s up?” The beat of silence was punctuated by Jameson’s eyes sliding shut in apparent resignation, free hand coming to yank against the back of his neck. “Son of a bitch. Yeah, man, thanks for the head’s up.” Every ounce of lust-hazed bliss drained from my body as the blood evacuated my face. Jameson scrambled to yank his shirt on as he barked into the phone, “Give me an hour.”
THIRTY
JAMESON
A misdemeanor. The son of a bitch—or his father’s high-paid attorneys—somehow talked the felony assault charges down to amisdemeanorand negotiated his release and return to Florida. They had dropped the stalking charge altogether under the guise of a coincidence that his trip coincided with hers. Evidently attacking an innocent woman in broad daylight was something to be laughed at in cigar lounges, so commonplace it couldn’t be prioritized.
My blood was boiling as I drove up to Mistyvale’s tiny airstrip, a private jet taxiing around the back of it. My skin lit up with the desire to decimate the damn thing, hands struggling not to snap my wheel as I watched until it parked and the steps lowered to the tarmac.
Axel’s truck whipped into the spot beside mine, kicking up a spray of dirt and gravel. He, Max, Maverick, and our dad all hopped out as my feet hit the black stones. In a town this small, it was only ninety seconds before the county jail van pulled up to the gate, security ushering them through.
A towering man in a suit stepped off the private plane, bringing every inch of my body to attention, hair standing on end as I got my first glimpse at who couldonlybe Eric’s father.My new fucking problem. Teeth grinding, there was nothing we could do as they released Eric from the van and ushered him into the plane, Max’s shutter blinking rapid fire as we observed from a distance. Arms crossed, about to crack a molar, my body all but vibrated with anger, and I watched as he vanished into the aircraft. Should’ve fucking killed him. At least, then, she’d be safe when this all went down.
Broderick and Elora appeared in his car right as the damn thing taxied.
“You alright?” Broderick asked, a heaviness in his tone I’d never heard before. I nodded, refusing to remove my eyes from the door Eric had disappeared behind, even as they came to stand on either side of our pissed-off lineup.
“Does she know?” Elora asked, voice soft as we all stared down the slick black tail of the thing as it made its way to the end of the runway.
“Which part?” I growled. There was only oneshein question.
“All of it?”
“Knows he’s leaving.”
“James,” she said, aghast, breath hitching in evident horror. I could practically feel her focus as it assaulted my profile.
“Don’t.” I hadn’t had the heart to tell her more than that. Didn’t want her added grief on my conscience. Because I knew. Iknewwhat Noel’s face would look like if I admitted Eric’s family was pressing assault charges. Bogus bullshit. No doubt assuming they could outspend our little island family to bury the threat. Like hell would I go down without a fight. And like hell would the truth not win in my own damn town.
“What’s the plan?” Milo asked, voice rough with a pain I could only imagine a father would hold for a son in my predicament.
