After rising from the bed, he stalks out, muscled ass flexing magnificently. I wonder vaguely whether I actually could cause him to lose ground with his training. Then, I decide I wasn’t kidding. I truly don’t care.
Having these experiences is too important to me. I love when my mind blurs as he pushes me to the edge. I had no idea sex could feel this way. It’s like being on fire and then plunging into cold water. Out of control and stunning. It takes my breath away in the best way.
I also love how soundly I sleep when I’m so spent I can barely move. It’s amazing.
Jamie reappears with a white box. Before setting it down, he lifts the lid, revealing purple tissue paper secured with a gold foil logo sticker.
I sit up. “What’s this?” Then I recognize the logo. It’s from the vintage clothing store. Carefully pealing the sticker up, I open the folded tissue paper. Lying in the box is the black Chanel dress. My audible gasp is followed by a sharp intake of breath.
When I glance up to meet his eyes, he’s smiling.
“It’s too much,” I whisper. “You already got me the other dress.”
He shrugs. “When you mentioned this one, I could tell you really wanted it.”
Pushing the box aside, I knee-walk to the edge of the bed and throw my arms out. My eyes are stinging with grateful tears, and I should feel ridiculous, but I don’t.
When I kiss and hug him, he leans into it.
“Best. Present. Ever.Thank you, Jamie.”
“It’s nothing,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with this degree of gratitude.
I decide that’s another thing I don’t care about. For once, I’m going to show the emotions I’ve been trained to bury.
Kissing the side of his face again, I squeeze his arm. “It means a lot.”
“Right, then. I’ll expect blow jobs daily for a week, will I?”
I chuckle. “If you want.” After climbing off the bed, I take the box and hang the dress in the closet. By the time I’m done admiring it, Jamie’s lying on his back on the bed.
As I approach, he puts an arm behind his head. “Did you always suspect you’d like the sort of games we’re playing, Sauce?”
“No. I didn’t know anything about this.” I lie down next to him.
“Usually people fantasize about things long before they experience them.”
My fingers caress his chest muscles. “If I had dreams about wicked sex, I don’t remember. Feels like I would. Pretty memorable.” Moving my hand down to trace his ab muscles, I shrug. “When I was young I fantasized about being a mutant girl from comic books, so I could empty the bank account of anyone I wanted. And kick their asses in a fight. I wanted to beat the hell out of Brad until he begged for mercy. Could be why I have such a girl crush on Ash. She snatched that phone right out of Brad’s hand, foiling his plans. I always wanted to be fast enough to keep him from taking my toys. Or to sidestep a punch so he’d break his fist on the wall.”
“A punch?” Jamie echoes. “He hit you, Sauce?”
“Sometimes.”
“Actually fucking hit you?” His scowl darkens. “When you were wee kids, you mean?”
“I think I was about fourteen the last time.”
A stillness comes over him. The hardness in his expression takes on a dangerous edge, narrowing his eyes to slits and crinkling the skin around them. “When you were fourteen, he’d have been sixteen or seventeen? A grown man, physically.” His expression shifts, becoming more shuttered. “And no one stopped him?”
“Nope.” I lick my lips and chew on the lower one for a moment. “But I got good at ignoring him. Not breaking down is how I win.”
“That’s not winning, Sawyer.”
“In a way, it was. You don’t understand because you’ve never been in that kind of situation.”
“Hmm.” Jamie blows out a breath. “You should probably talk with a professional about what you’ve been through. And your brother needs a proper reckoning.”
“No way,” I scoff. “I’ve kept it a secret for a reason.” My brows pinch together. “No one can know I told you, Jamie. I’ll deny it.”
