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I snake out my tongue and flick it along her sticky skin, confirming itisgrape soda she’s wearing. Jem tilts her neck,inviting me to lick her more, and I do. I press my lips to her neck, and then suckle and tease her skin before giving her a nip that draws a louder gasp from her.
“If you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m going to lose my shit and come all over your beautiful fucking body,” I whisper near her ear. “I don’t think you realize how hard I’m working to keep it together, Little Miss, but I can assure you that my cock is primed and you have my full fucking attention.” I move to where I can see her eyes again. “Who threw soda on you?”
“Shelby,” she whispers, gazing up at me.
I lean back and scratch at my beard. “Why would she do that? Was it an accident?”
Jem shakes her head. “She did it on purpose.”
“Why? She’s supposed to be your friend.”
“She did itbecauseshe’s my friend.”
I squint at her. “I don’t get it.”
“She sent me home to change.” Jem hooks her fingers over my belt, pulls me closer, and strokes my cock through my jeans. “And change is fucking terrifying.”
21
JEM
Gunnar studies me, his brow furrowed in concentration. “What do you mean?”
What do I mean?
I mean that I love him beyond fucking measure.
Since I walked in the door, I’ve seen him snuggled with sleeping babies who trust him to keep them safe. He’s so fucking caring and mindful and gentle with them, to protect them from harm, and it makes all my fucking eggs crave fertilization by him. I read somewhere that a woman my age can have hundreds of thousands — that’s a lot of eggs. It’s a big fucking craving.
Epic Daddoo skills aside, he was just as mindful and gentle with me — was ready to battle my enemies or back off if I needed him to, while letting me know loud and clear that he didn’t want to go anywhere and leave me vulnerable and exposed.
He read me like book and licked grape soda from my skin as both temptation and a warning, and I want every single thing he promises. I have all along, but I never fight for what I want because he acts like I’m some great prize, and I’m scared he’ll figure out how wrong he is, how not-special and forgettable I am, and how easy it is for people to walk out of my life.
I suck in a deep breath. “Shelby ruined her dress, so I’d have to come home and talk to you. She said I have to stop being a chicken-shit little bitch and tell you how I feel.”
I begin to undo his belt buckle, but he clamps his hand over mine, preventing me.
“Attacking my pants isn’t telling me how you feel, Jem.” He tightens his grip when I try to escape his grasp, and he tilts his head like he means business. “What are you afraid of?”
“Liking you too much,” I blurt out, ripping my hand away and folding my arms over my breasts, to feel less exposed.
“What does that mean,liking me too much?” He offers me the soft, woolen couch blanket again. “Loving me?”
I take the knitted throw, toss it back on the ground, then press my lips together and give the slightest nod.
“You’re afraid to love me?” he asks, searching my face.
I nod again, and he sweeps me into his arms and sits on the couch with me in his lap. “Tell me why. Is it because I’m too old? Too rough? Too ugly? I don’t know how to make the TikToks? What is it, Jem? I’m not good enough? Smart enough? I make bad choices? Follow my dick too much and suck your tits when I shouldn’t? I’m boring? I don’t smell good? Tell me what it is that makes me so hard to love.”
I frown. “You’re easy to love.”
He stares at me a moment, grunts, and then sets me back on my feet. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be scared of doing it.”
“I don’t want to be,” I whisper. My eyes are getting hot again.
Gunnar draws his eyebrows down hard and pulls me back into his lap. “Why are you scared, beautiful?”
“Because I don’t want my heart to break when you leave me.”
