“So it would appear.” She grinned, eyes wide.
“Sorry—”
“Don’t.” She climbed on the bed, straddling his lap. “You look like you’re feeling better.” Her hips wiggled with all kinds of suggestive seduction.
He ran his hands up her legs and under his T-shirt she’d worn. Her bare ass greeted him. A deep groan of appreciation vibrated from his throat. “Yes, I’m feeling better.”
“How much better?” She slid her hand into his briefs.
With a thick swallow he closed his eyes. “My mom’s—”
“Aric James, so help me … if you ever say the word ‘mom’ again while I have your cock in my hand, I’ll break it off. Condoms?”
“B-bag.” His lungs seemed to be controlled by her grip on his dick.
She started to move off him. He grabbed her waist.
“I can’t …” The words were there and he didn’t regret them, but he wasn’t sure how she would react.
Jillian looked between them at the head of his erection peeking out above his waist band. “I think you can.”
He shook his head. “I can’t get you pregnant.”
“O-kay …” Her brows knitted in confusion.
“I’ve had a vasectomy.”
She nodded. Her face a blank page. AJ wasn’t going to apologize, even if she had happily-ever-after dreams of marriage and a gaggle of babies. He was forty-two, irreversibly fucked-up, and done with that part of his life.
Jillian pushed down the front of his briefs and stroked him a few times. “I can’t make you bleed anymore.” Her eyes shifted from her hand to his eyes.
It was an odd statement or maybe it was the way she said it with such agony and regret.
She rose on her knees and positioned him at her entrance. “But you have to look at me the whole time. And … I know this is going to be hard for you, but I need to feel some sort of adoration, safety, contentment. Okay?”
His hands slid up to her breasts. “Okay.” He stripped the shirt off her body, the impulse to taste her was too unbearable. Sucking a nipple into his mouth he looked up at her, surprising himself—the look, the feeling—it was automatic. He did adore her.
She sank onto him one slow inch at a time. The warm pressure made it hard to keep his eyes open and on her.
“Aric James …” she whispered, “look at me.”
He opened his leaden eyelids and bit her nipple. Their bodies rocked together in a slow rhythm. She swallowed over and over again. Her body reacted in pleasure while her eyes bled the pain as she fought to keep her need at bay. How long could he continue to ignore her pain? The questions grew louder in his mind every day.
“Aric Jam—”
Thwarting her effort to announce their morning activity to his parents, he crashed his mouth to her. Their tongues explored and probed, heavy, labored breaths desperate to escape. Jillian’s nails dug into his shoulders so he grabbed her fingers and interlaced them with his, keeping his gaze locked to hers the entire time.
Control began to slip as their movements became more erratic. “Find it,” he gritted through his teeth as he thickened and spilled into her.
She circled her hips—grinding, rocking, searching.
“Aric—” She spasmed around him and moaned into his mouth as he massaged her clitoris with the pad of his thumb, drawing every last bit of pleasure from her.
He dropped his head to her shoulder. “Good?” he mumbled into her neck as he licked and nipped at her salty skin.
She nodded. He looked at her again, flinching at the glassy tears in her eyes.
“What’s—”
“Don’t … just don’t ask.” Jillian shook her head. “You’ll ruin it…” she kissed his shoulder then rested her cheek on it “…and it was too good. Words will spoil it.”
He hugged her to him, not wanting to break their connection. Of course he couldn’t love her—not yet, maybe never—but he loved that she pushed him for less and not more. He loved that she used her compassion as her greatest strength, and he loved the way her acceptance made him feel normal. Was it possible to love so much about her and not actually love her?
“Your mom’s probably wondering where we are.”
He teased his teeth over her shoulder and up her neck. “If you ever mention my mom again while my dick is lodged inside you, I’m certain it will fall off.”
She laughed. “Touché.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Day
Luke never forgot the feeling of rescuing someone from a fire. He also never forgot the feeling of being a few seconds too late. Some days he could feel Jessica in his arms, just seconds from that breath of air. Then there were the moments he felt like he had her by the hand but she was slipping … falling … fading into the darkness—the point of no return.
“Luke?”
He searched her eyes for something, maybe a clue to why she was doing this to herself.