He entered me from the side, his hands squeezing my breasts and making my core drip and ache as his name spilled from my lips. He pushed me to my knees and entered me from behind, forcing my back into an arch and my face into the pillow. As my carefully coiffed hair cascaded onto the white sheets, he held me down with a well-placed hand at the back of my neck. His hips slammed against my ass, dragging me under, narrowing our world to where our bodies were joined.
In the final position, he pushed me onto my back again, and that's when I gripped him—panting, begging, pleading for more.
His rhythm never faltered. He moved with precision, denying his own release while giving me multiple orgasms. And right when I was certain I would die from ecstasy, he cupped my buttocks and drove in deep, whispering my name into the side of my neck, painting my skin with the warmth of his breath.
His fingers squeezed my cheeks, and he let out a sound like a wounded animal as his own release erupted. With him trapped between my thighs, I absorbed every convulsion. My name on his lips was half exclamation, half surrender, and he collapsed on top of me, his body finally claiming the bliss he had given me so freely.
Moments later, both of us breathing hard, he slowly slid his hands from beneath me, and I let my legs go lax.
Jamison looked down at me. "That was..."
He seemed to lose the words he was about to speak. But I understood. He didn't need to finish the sentence.
"Yeah. I agree."
He rolled off me and went into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returned, I had slipped under the covers, and he joined me, pulling me into his arms.
Jamison traced a lazy pattern on my back. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to see your hair spread out across my pillows like this." He wound one of my locks around his finger.
"How long?"
"From when I came to your store to apologize."
"You were checking me out way back then?"
"Oh yeah," he said without shame.
"Want to know something?"
"What?"
"I was checking you out then too."
He brought his lips to mine in a searing kiss.
I stroked his prominent jawline and slid my fingers into his hair, purring my satisfaction. I caressed his hips, his buttocks, and licked his chin.
We had crossed the line tonight, and I had no idea what would happen next, but I was determined to live in this moment.
To enjoy every second in his arms for the rest of the night.
Chapter 21
Tallulah
Iquietly entered my house and eased the door shut.
I felt ridiculous—a forty-seven-year-old woman sneaking into my own home like a teenager after curfew, but I didn't want to wake Blossom and also didn't want to have a conversation about where I had been, what I had been doing, and with whom.
My lips were still swollen from Jamison's kisses, and my skin was extremely sensitive, as if each nerve ending was humming. If I focused too much on the way he had looked at me before I left—his light eyes filled with longing, as if he didn't want me to go—I'd start blushing.
I crept through the dark living room, cursing the old squeaky floorboards as I made my way toward the back.
Had I really slept with Jamison? It seemed like a reckless thing to do, but I had thoroughly enjoyed myself. He was a skilled lover. The control and precision he applied to spreadsheets and financial projections—or whatever he did at the bank—were apparently transferable to the bedroom.
Very transferable.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling like an idiot in the darkness.
