Page 167 of Charming Deception

But tonight… something has changed.

I don’t know what it is.

I’m just grateful for it.

Jameson blew me away, not just with the sex, but with taking care of me the way he did.

But when we had sex… the line between fake and real became blurred in all the steam.

And the multiple orgasms.

Troy was never patient enough to give me multiples. The sad truth was our sex life revolved around my admiration of him.

That has never been more obvious to me than it has been tonight, experiencing another man making love to me.

In that department, Jameson is clearly a giver.

And yes, he’s a romantic.

He made me come until I physically couldn’t do it anymore and he had to peel me off the bed, quite literally, and tuck me in under the covers.

I hadn’t come with a man in so long, I’d almost forgotten what it was like.

But then again… it was never like that before Jameson anyway.

* * *

In the morning, I wake in Jameson’s arms.

The first thing he does when I look at him is smile sleepily.

I trace the dagger tattoo on his chest with my finger for a while as we just lie there, entangled in peaceful silence.

Then I say, “Tell me about this. Why so bloody?” I quirk a smile, touching the tattooed drops of blood with my fingertip.

His expression grows serious. “I got the dagger after I found out about my dad’s infidelities, to remind me that even the ones you love can betray you. Maybe I thought if I documented my wounds, then I wouldn’t have to carry them inside.”

“And did that work?”

He laughs under his breath. “No. It turns out it doesn’t really work that way.”

I trace the drops of blood again, dripping from the tip of the dagger tattoo. “One of these looked raw when we met, like it was a newer tattoo.”

“It was. The first drop of blood was for my mom, because of how Dad hurt her. I never wanted to forget that. I was an angry teenager, and I didn’t want to idealize him in my mind over time as I grieved for him. Because that’s what happens after you lose someone, right? I didn’t want to forget the harm he’d done and how he hurt us. It was important to me to remember.”

“And the second drop? The new one?”

He kind of groans. “I got it recently, after Granddad died. It’s for my grandmother. I only found out when my granddad was dying that he’d had an affair, too. And I didn’t want to forget that either. He’d lied to all of us for years, and I didn’t want to make him into a hero in my mind. He was like another father to me after Dad died. But he was far from perfect.”

I take this all in, then offer, “That’s really brave, Jameson, choosing to remember those things. Marking them on your body so you won’t forget. Most people would probably rather forget.”

“It’s not brave. I just don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. I never want to forget how their betrayal felt. I wasn’t even the one married to them, and it hurt me.”

I consider that, and how much we have in common in that regard. I know what it feels like to be cheated on.

I lay my head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, until he starts to get up and I moan in protest. He just smiles and drags me into the shower, where he makes the effort incredibly worth my while when he soaps my body, slowly and throughly, with his big hands.

Then he wraps my legs around his waist and fucks me up against the wall.

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