Page 24 of Signed With Love

There’s more than enough room on the couch, but he chooses the spot right next to me. I start a movie, whatever my parents were watching, but I find myself more focused on Jamison’s body next to mine and the way his steady breathing is under where I’ve rested my head on his chest. The subtle hint of his sweat and earthy scent settles any remaining trace of anxiety. He’s had such a long day. Working, then saving Dad’s life. I snuggle in deeper and train my eyes on the screen.

Jamison’s hold on my arm loosens, and his breathing goes deeper the longer we rest together. I peek up and find his head tilted back on the couch. It took him not even five minutes to pass out. I take the moment to observe the details of him, ones I’ve never witnessed when he’s been so content. That’s how he looks, his large body lounged back like this. His hair is even wilder than usual. I note that some of its mess has to be from when I grabbed him while he kissed me.

It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I let my eyes travel lower to those lips that kissed me so expertly, past his beard and further down to his firm chest. He starts to tip sideways, so I slide forward and let him. My smile spreads. His feet come up, and he stretches out on the couch. His eyes are still closed, but he definitely knows he wants to be more comfortable.

I wonder how many times he’s slept in less-than-ideal situations. He’s search and rescue in one of the harshest areas in the world. The Alaskan bush is known to be dangerous and unpredictable.

I’m left with the very edge of the couch, but there are absolutely no cares from me. I slide down the couch to remove his boots, as careful as possible not to wake him up. They’re huge hiking boots, but I make quick work of them. In the end, I’m not as gentle as I want. But damn, he’s big and really wasn’t helping much.

My throat vibrates with a chuckle I can’t hold back. I’m always so uncertain of my voice. But Maddie said my laugh was her favorite. I haven't felt myself laugh in so long. I finally get the last boot off and drop it to the floor. When I look back, Jamison’s eyes are open, and the look he’s giving me… Holy shit, I can’t breathe. His eyes are dark and hooded. My heart races.

What’s he thinking? I start to lift my hands but hesitate. I don’t know what to do. But Jamison’s hand reaches to grab me before I can formulate anything. He tugs just enough for me to come toward him. His eyes close again as he pulls me to lie down beside him. He tucks me into his chest, giving me his bicep as a pillow.

His other arm wraps around my shoulders, and he pulls me forward so I’m snug against him. His chest vibrates the same way it did when he kissed me. My body relaxes, turns into his until there isn’t a part of me that’s not touching him. His breathing levels out moments later.

My body gives into sleep with little thought.

???

It’s so hot. My hair is sticking to my neck and my mouth is dry. There’s a rise and a fall and something pressing on my head. I’m being squeezed. As Jamison’s scent floods me, I open my eyes.

I’m still securely wrapped in his arms as the morning light fills the living room. I try to disentangle myself, but his arms tighten. His chest rumbles, and my head is shoved into his neck. Jamison likes to cuddle. Who would have thought? I don’t want to move either, but I need to get up and take care of the normal morning routines. One more wiggle and chuckle, and I finally break his hold and sit up. He’s lounged back, his arm braced above his head. There’s a comfortable smile on his lips. He’d been up and was just messing with me.

I give him a knowing smile and shake my head. My hands move fluidly, telling him I’ll be right back. Perhaps we should discuss what’s transpired, but taking care of more pressing matters like the bathroom will prolong the conversation.

The bathroom door shuts, and I pause in front of the mirror. There’s a smile gracing my lips. My blonde hair is a nest of tangles and waves, tied off when I was restlessly fidgeting with it at the hospital. I work to make myself more presentable but find that waking up with a guy for the first time is a rush rather than scary. It’s Jamison, I tell myself. I’ve never felt safer or more secure with anyone else before. I finish up, and when I open the bathroom door, I find him waiting across the hall.

My turn, he signs with a wink. I can’t keep the smile contained as he slips past me. I go into the kitchen and pick a few things out to start him some breakfast. I should feel nervous or awkward this morning, but I don’t. Maybe my mind hasn’t caught up with everything yet, or the stress from yesterday just threw me off my routine. I’m in a haze.

I’ve only dated a handful of times, and none of them led to anything serious like staying after sex or dating. I’ve never had someone to call my own. Never thought I would want something so much in my life. But now, after just a taste of Jamison’s kisses, I want to take more. I want to experience more. Feel more.

The egg hits the edge of the bowl and cracks. I’ve made eggs a million times, but never for a man. I contemplate how he’ll like them. Scrambled? Sunny side up? Over easy? There’s too much about him I still don’t know but desire to know.

The shell drops into the bowl, and the yolk drips over my fingers when a warm hand slips across my lower back, lifting my shirt out of the way. The hand is large and rough as it scrapes across the skin. A shiver rolls through my body as his head lowers to kiss below my ear.

He breaks away and steps back. My gaze stays on his body as he moves around the kitchen. As he grabs orange juice, his shirt stretches across his bicep. He reaches up to the top cabinet, and denim hugs his backside. I’m not able to look away.

His hand drifts into my line of sight as he requests to sign. You okay? he asks. A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. He knows exactly how his gorgeous body is distracting me.

I’m fine, I sign back. My eyes roll as I walk to the sink. I’ve got to pull my head together and not let this man tip my world off its axis. It’s so hard to know what’s to come with him and if I’ll be ready or not.

I walk back to the eggs I was preparing for him. I don’t eat breakfast but he probably does. Do you like eggs? I ask. Jamison watches my hands and glances at the bowl when I point to it.

His shoulders shake with laughter. He dips a finger inside the eggs and removes the shells. The smirk remains.

I like eggs, he signs. Of course, as long as they don’t have shells in them. It’s his fault for distracting me.

I take a few moments to get ready and straighten up the living room while he eats. The living room window is open, the breeze rolling in from the mountains in the west bringing the fresh scent of pine. I want my parents to come home to a clean house.

My phone vibrates from my pocket. I pull it out and check the message.

They are discharging him soon. We will be home in a few hours. No need to drive up this morning.

A shadow catches my attention and I glance up. Jamison is leaning against the doorway with a glass of juice. He seems relaxed and comfortable, not as worn and tired. It looks good on him. There’s an edge of panic setting in the longer he watches. He lifts away and pulls his phone from his pocket.

He types, then passes it over. The moment our hands touch, a wave of awareness takes over. I focus on reading his message.

Your mom texted me too. Any plans until your parents get home? I can take you on that next date I have planned.

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