Clinging desperately to the hope that we can get past this.
My shadows are chased away for a little while.
“I missed you,” he whispers into my hair.
“I missed you too.”
He bends, and his lips take mine as we forget where we are. His tongue slowly strokes through my open lips, and he holds my face in his two hands as we get lost in the moment. His kiss is tender and, more importantly, familiar.
With him, I am home.
An hour later, we walk into my apartment, hand in hand.
We hardly spoke on the way home. I sat on his lap, tucked safely in his big arms, and enjoyed the closeness. His lips dusted back and forth over my temple as he held tight, as if not believing I was here with him.
I’ve missed the closeness. Our closeness.
It’s not even about the sex with us anymore. I mean, it was in the beginning. But my heart has eclipsed any physical need that my mere body desires . . . and I know he’s the same.
He turns me toward him, and his eyes search mine. “Em . . .” He pauses as if trying to get the wording right in his head. “I swear to you, from this moment on . . . you are my everything. Our new life together . . . starts right now.”
I smile up at him as my eyes fill with tears anew. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” We kiss, and unlike the tenderness we have shared over the last hour, a new desperation fills us.
Suddenly I want him . . . all of him. “Take me to bed.”
He scoops me up and carries me into the room like a bride and stands me before him. His lips drop to my neck, and I smile at the ceiling as goose bumps scatter over my skin. He bites me with an edge I remember so well.
Oh, I’ve missed him.
I lift his shirt over his head and throw it to the side, and he does the same to mine. We become animals as we tear each other’s clothes away. There is nothing between us now. Only skin . . . and love.
His lips tenderly take mine as he lays me back on the bed, and his lips go to my neck and then start to go lower, and I cling to him. “No, I need you up here with me.”
We stare at each other in some kind of otherworldly experience. This is special.
I wish I could bottle this moment.
“Now, Jim,” I whisper, “I need you now.”
His eyes close in pleasure as he lies on top of me; our lips are locked, my legs open and cradling his large body as it rocks against mine, searching for its own release.
With one deep purposeful thrust, he slides home deep, and we both moan in pleasure.
“Fuck, Em,” he whispers into my neck.
I cling to him as I ride the pleasure wave between us. “I know, baby, I know.”
He pulls out and pushes back in, my body rising to meet his.
The need for more overwhelms us, and I begin to thrash beneath him. “Fuck me,” I whimper. “God, give it to me hard.”
He pulls out and slams back in, knocking the air from my lungs. He repositions my legs over his shoulders and, with dark eyes watching me struggle to take him, begins to ride me.
Long, sharp, punishing hits—the bed begins to hit the wall, and I can do nothing but watch the perfect male specimen in all his glory.
Jameson Miles is the most sexual being I have ever known.
Everything about him screams “fuck me.”
Watching him in the throes of passion, where he is grappling for control, is every woman’s ultimate fantasy; he’s like a sexual time bomb waiting to explode. Perspiration dusts his skin; his dark hair hangs over his forehead, and his breath begins to quiver as he struggles to hold off his orgasm.
His pumps become piston fast, and the burn of his possession overtakes me as I fall into the abyss. I cry out as an earth-shattering orgasm rips me to shreds.
My body contracts hard around his.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pushes out as he slams repeatedly into me. The sound of the bed hitting the wall with force echoes through the apartment.
He tips his head back, holds himself deep, and moans loud as he comes hard, deep inside of me.
And then we kiss, and my whole world returns to good. To the place I’ve missed so, so much.
The emotion between us is so strong that it brings tears to my eyes.
“Welcome home, fuck bunny,” he whispers against my lips. “Welcome home.”
One week later
“We need to do a follow-up story, a where-are-they-now kind of thing,” Athena says as we stand together at the printer.
“Yes, I know. I’m going to go over the notes this afternoon as soon as I get a chance.”
The office is a hive of activity today; news has broken overnight. A married senator has been caught in a scandal with his secretary, and the phones are ringing off the hook.