My heart stutters at his unexpected confession. I understand him being stressed and upset about the team and his injury and what not. But me? Sure, he’s been flirty, but I figured that was just him trying to get under my skin. Was it real?
Jamie watches me, waiting for my response.
“Say something, Ellie,” he begs.
I’m frozen in place. My brain has left the building, and I am incapable of speaking. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
After a moment, I finally make it back to reality.
“Do you know how unfair that is to me? Do you know how long I waited for you to come back? Do you have any idea how many nights I spent crying myself to sleep? No, you don’t, because you weren’t there, Jamie. You weren’t there!”
“Fuck, I know!” he shouts. Tears begin to run down my cheeks before I even realize that I’m crying. “Okay? I know I wasn’t there. I was eighteen and I didn’t know how to handle it. I… I made a split-second decision. Packed my bags, got in the car, and drove. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, not even mom,” he explains, his voice hoarse from crying and shouting all night.
“Is that supposed to make this better?” I practically sob. Jamie shakes his head, grabbing both of my hands in his. I want to pull them back, but I miss his touch. I didn’t realize how much I craved it until now.
“No, it’s not. Nothing can make it better. All I can do is tell you how sorry I am. How badly I regret what I did. I can’t take it back. I can’t change it, but I can spend the rest of my life proving to you how sorry I am. I have no problem doing that.”
That makes me sob. How many times did I wish he’d show up and say this? How many times did I stare at my phone late at night waiting for him to text or call?
“This isn’t happening. I’ve walked into the freaking Twilight Zone,” I laugh manically, running my hand through my hair.
How did this go from me helping him through a panic attack, to him confessing he can’t stop thinking about me?
“I can’t fix my knee. I can’t control how my guys play. But I can do this. Let me, Sweetheart.”
Sniffling, I say, “don’t call me that.”
Jamie chuckles, running his index finger down my cheek and catching a stray tear.
“I… I have to go. I have an early rehearsal,” is all I can say. I slip out of his grasp and quickly walk to the door. It opens an inch before it’s slammed shut. I jump, turning around to see Jamie leaning over me, his hand on the door.
My heart is beating a million miles a minute, and I feel like I can’t breathe. He smells like sweat and cologne, his hair is disheveled, his eyes are full of fire. My chest rises and falls as I watch him lean closer to my face. He’s inches away now.
“I let you walk away last time. This time, I’m not letting you go,” he states before grabbing my face and smashing his lips to mine.
Chapter 23
Jamie
W
hat the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?
I’m kissing Ellie Monroe. I’m kissing her and she’s kissing me back. She’s not pulling away; she doesn’t seem repulsed. So far, so good.
The kiss is fierce and desperate. It’s fueled by frustration, built up tension, and something else I can’t describe. I pull her closer, my hands tangling in her hair as her arms wrap around my neck. Her lips are soft, fitting with mine just like they used to. I take the risk of sliding my tongue against hers, and it pays off. She kisses me back with fervor. It feels so familiar, yet so new at the same time.
I pick her up easily, her legs circling me like they’ve done a million times before as I deepen the kiss. Her body molds to mine, her curves fitting perfectly against me. I can feel her heartbeat racing against my chest, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my own.
“Jamie,”she gasps, breaking the kiss momentarily. Her eyes are dark with desire, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.“We can’t—” she begins, but I cut her off before she can continue.
“We can,”I murmur, my lips brushing against hers.“Give in, Sweetheart.”
She surprises me when she doesn’t argue, and I watch as her resistance crumbles around her as I kiss her again. My hands move down her body, tracing the curves I’ve missed for so long. I lay her down on the bench, hovering over her. I know this is risky. I know this could cost us both our jobs. Yet, I can’t stop myself. I’m afraid that if we stop, she’ll run, and we’ll never have this chance again. It's selfish, I know. But God knows, I’m selfish.
I assist her with taking her blazer off, tossing it to the floor. She pulls off her shirt next, letting it land with the blazer. My lips trail down her neck and down over the swell of her perky tits.Fuck, I’ve missed this.
She moans, her head falling back as I suck at the sensitive skin, leaving a mark that’s both a claim and an apology. Jesus, I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed hearing that moan.
