Page 23 of Myself

Jaycent had a serious girlfriend for as long as I can remember, and I was so jealous of her. And it wasn’t because she was a blonde who could have passed for a model. It was the way he would pull her close and whisper in her ear. She would laugh and slap him playfully on the chest. I remember one time walking into the living room at my parents’ house, and she was straddling him. His hands were on her ass, his lips on hers.

Her head fell back, and she moaned as his lips trailed down her neck, but then she opened her eyes and screamed when she saw me watching them. I was fifteen, and they were twenty-two. I had never wanted something so badly like I had him.

“My place,” he says, breaking through my thoughts. “I want to cook you dinner.”

I place a hand over my face as I try not to laugh at how giddy I am. “That sounds awesome.” Awesome? I roll my eyes at myself. “Thank you,” I add.

He laughs. “Don’t thank me yet. I’ll send a car for you. Is six okay?”

“It’s perfect,” I say and start hitting the couch with my feet.

“Becca?” His deep voice rumbles with my name.

“Yes?” I ask as I swallow at the way it makes my legs break out in goose bumps.

“Pack an overnight bag.” Then the line goes dead.

So I spend the rest of my day doing what any other woman who is going to spend her entire night with a man would do. Even though I hate it, I shop. I spend countless hours trying on a ton of different dresses until I find the right one. By the time I got back home, it was after four. I called out for Ashlyn, but there was no answer, so I guessed she was spending the night with Ry.

I was showered, makeup on and hair done and downstairs waiting for his car at five fifty. Of course, it was already there. I sat in the back of it nervously as we started to leave the city behind. Jaycent never was a city guy. When he turned twenty, he bought a house outside Manhattan in a little suburb.

By the time his driver pulls up, I’m sweating. I’m so nervous. He pulls up to the front of the white brick house and opens the door for me. I get out and thank him before going to the trunk where he retrieves my bag. I go to take it from him, but he walks to the front door with it.

“He’s in the kitchen, ma’am,” he informs me as I enter the house.

“Thank you,” I tell him, and he nods his head as he places my bag down by the front door and then walks out.

I run my hand along the black table that sits in the entryway with pictures from his childhood. One of him and his sister sitting at a table with a birthday cake in front of them that reads Happy 21st Birthday, Rosie. Then another one of him and Ryder with their arms over the other’s shoulders. I smile. I remember when they took it. It was at their graduation party that his dad had thrown them. His parents always went out of their way to show their children how proud they were.

I continue to walk down the hallway until it comes to an open living room. I find a set of stairs directly to the right, but I continue forward. Once I step down into the living room, I turn to the right. I see him in the open kitchen, and his back is to me. He’s still dressed in his black button up and black slacks.

“It smells delicious,” I say with a smile.

He turns around with a huge smile on his face. One that makes my knees weak and my stomach flip. And I hate that Conner comes to mind. I never felt this way about him. He never made me physically weak. This man holds a lot of power over me.

He comes around the kitchen, and his light brown eyes look me up and down. “Wow,” he says in awe, and I bite my bottom lip nervously. “You look magnificent.” He comes to a stop in front of me.

I slide my hand down the simple yet flattering little black dress. He reaches out and grabs my right hand before he twirls me around, making the skirt flare around my legs. I laugh when he brings me to him. He lifts his free hand and pushes the brown strands from my face. I lean my head back as my heart pounds in my chest. He looks down at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. His eyes search my face, his hand in my hair. My legs grow weaker, my breath ragged. And my panties grow wet. This man is what I’ve always dreamed of. What I’ve always wished for. I’ve seen how he looks at someone he loves, and it is nowhere close to what Conner showed. Conner, why can’t I forget him? Why did I waste so much time on him?

My hands come up, and I grip his shirt. The top two buttons are undone, and his tie long gone. I stare at his hard, smooth chest and lick my lips. “The food is gonna get cold,” I say, trying to think of anything but what I really want.

“I’m not hungry,” he says as his hand leaves my hair and traces my jawline. I can’t hide the shiver that runs through me. “What about you?” he asks.

I shake my head slowly. “Not for food.”

He leans down and presses his lips to mine, and I close my eyes. They’re so soft. I open a little for him, and his tongue slowly makes its way into my mouth. His arms wrap around me, and I open wider for him. His lips grow needy. Suddenly, I’m walking backward until I hit a pointy surface. I hear a few things fall over, and then he’s lifting me onto something. He spreads my legs as he moves to stand between them, and my pussy grows wet.

His lips pull from mine, and I suck in a deep breath. He places his forehead to mine as he breathes just as deeply. “Promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” I say breathlessly. I’ve been back from Seattle for a day, and I’m already willing to give him everything. I should be asking questions. I should be wondering what happened to him after I left him for Seattle, but a part of me doesn’t care. The selfish part. It’s the part I’ve never been able to use. Four years have passed, and I couldn’t care less what he did or where he went in that time. I had Conner, after all. I only care about right here, right now.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, lifting my head so I look up at him. His light brown eyes look deeply into mine as his lips glisten from our kiss. “Promise me come morning, you won’t ask me to walk away.”

“Not if you wanna stay,” I say, feeling my chest swell at his request.

His lips are back on mine in answer. His hands are on my thighs, and he lifts me off the table. He carries me to a room and sets me on my feet. He grabs the hem of my dress. “Lift your arms,” he orders. I do as I’m told, and he raises the dress up and over my head. I reach for his shirt and start to undo his buttons. Then I’m working on his belt and pants. Once done, they fall to his feet, and he kicks off his shoes before he pushes me back onto the bed.

My bra, underwear, and heels are still on. He reaches up and grabs the strap of my black lace bra and pulls it down over my shoulder, enough to where he can see my nipple. I reach up and run my hand through his dark hair, and he closes his eyes and sighs. “God, I’ve missed you so much,” I moan as I lift my hips to his. “Why did you leave me, baby?” he asks.

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