She squeezed my arm a little tighter. The video ended. My face. My fucking face! You could see my anger. My frustration. My confusion. I was an open book up there, my pages splayed out for all to see.
The music started. Then stopped. Then started again when I stepped up to the microphone and sang.
Jess scooted to the edge of the sofa, leaning toward the television. I couldn’t see her face, but I assumed that was deliberate. She didn’t want me to register her reaction. Now that she knew I was Jake McKallister’s brother, she was comparing my voice to his. My song to his. My looks to his. I had no doubt who would come out the winner—the guy hanging on the fridge.
The song ended, and the crowd jumped to their feet. But what I hadn’t seen after my hasty retreat was that they’d stayed there—on their feet—chanting for my return. How had I not heard that?
The scene was cut, and Alan was back on the stage with the other contestants. They’d obviously spliced things together to make up for the time lapse created while Alan was chasing me down the street. My absence was glossed over—an emergency that needed tending to, he’d said. Did anyone believe that? One by one, the show recapped each singer, flashing a number on the screen for the home audience to call in and vote. Unexpectedly, my picture popped up on the screen. My voting number to call. The show wasn’t through with me yet.
I was lucky number ten.
Rustling with the remote, I hastily clicked off the TV. I couldn’t see Jess’s face, but I assumed she was getting it ready to let me down easy—to tell me ‘It wasn’t so bad.’
“Jess,” I said, running my finger along her back.
She turned her head to me, and I could see the emotion in her eyes.
“Quinn,” she croaked out my name. “That was…”
I shook my head, frustrated in myself. “I know.”
“No. You don’t know. I could feel it down to my toes. Your pain…”
God, she was so beautiful. Watching her try to articulate her feelings about something I’d created from my heart—it was all that I’d ever wanted. To be heard.
I ran my thumb along her parted lips, aching for this woman. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to me. The same hungry stare that had held me captive in the rain was back. Jess licked my thumb, and that was enough. I grazed her cheek with my lips, then moved along her delicate skin, laying tiny kisses along the way. Jess drew in a breath, and I felt her shudder. My hungry lips hovered over hers, demanding she be the one to take what she needed.
And she did. Kissing me, sucking my lips gently, her tongue circling around mine. I gave in to her completely.Jess’s fingers slid up my neck and through my hair, our lips still locked, our tongues still turning. As she lowered her back to the sofa, she pulled me down on top of her. I drew back, everything throbbing. I took her in, lying on my couch, her bare knees tilted to the side, wearing my favorite Van Halen shirt. I noticed then that she’d thrown her bra into the dryer and her pinpoint nipples were poking through the thin fabric. If I hadn’t already been pulsing, that right there would have sealed the deal.
I slid my fingers along her thigh, over my boxers—the ones that looked sinful on her now—and up to her nipples. I grasped one with my palm, both of us groaning as I bent down and flicked it with my tongue through the fabric. Jess arched her back, thrusting her breasts at me, demanding more. Oh, god. I almost didn’t feel worthy. She was too much. More than I deserved. My complicated woman. Give me more.
Greedily, I kissed her hard and deep while sliding my hands on the underside of her shirt, that silken skin of hers setting my throbbing shaft into a fury and nearly sending me to an early grave of shame.
“Jess…” I pulled back, panting. There was so much I wanted to say, but my brain could no longer articulate the words.
Her breath was shallow, her body twisting below me. She squeezed her thighs together, emitting tiny whisper-thin gasps, and then they parted and she grabbed my hand and pressed my fingers into her. As she writhed below me, I unbuttoned my fly.
Jess didn’t wait, her fingers reaching into the opening and drawing me out, her encircled fingers sliding the length of me. I arched my back, dragging in what breath I had left. My oxygen level dropped. I thought I was going to fucking die. Lowering my weight onto her, my fingers probed deeper. She couldn’t stay still, her hips thrusting back at me with every press.
“Don’t stop,” she cried, grabbing my hand maybe to direct me, but I required no instruction. I knew just what she needed.
“No, baby,” I panted into her neck. “I promise to take you all the way.”
Our bodies set into a rhythm then, both of us writhing to the beat of each other’s drum.
Jess arched, her body shuddering and her legs pressing together in a scissor-lock that trapped my hand between her trembling thighs. The feel of her body, the quaking of her desire. Jess could have released her grip on me and I still would have detonated.
We quaked on the sofa, both of us lost in ourselves. In each other. I slid my hand around the back of her, gripped her bum, and yanked her into me as we caught our breaths. Nibbling her neck, I took advantage of her heaving breasts by sliding back under the shirt and teasing them. Jess grabbed my face, her eyes still awash with passion, and she pressed the purest kiss to my lips. I’d been with my share of women, but never anyone like her. She was premium quality.
We lay there in each other’s arms, no words spoken between us as our fingers lazily explored. It felt right. Perfect. It was in that moment of quiet contentment that we heard the phone buzzing.
“Is that me or you?” Jess asked, not seeming the least bit interested in leaving the nest that we’d built.
“Who cares?” I answered, tipping her chin up and kissing her.
But I could feel her uncertainty, and as the phone continued to buzz, she unfolded herself from my arms and walked to her backpack.
“Come back to me,” I called to her.
