Page 60 of Every Beat of My Heart

“Use two fingers, thrust harder.”

She moaned, and I knew she was lost in the sensation of her touch and my voice. “Use your thumb to circle your clit.”

“Jameson, I can’t—”

“Let go. I’m right there with you.”

Her breathing got heavier.

“If I were there, I’d cup your ass and bring that sweet pussy to my mouth. I’d eat you like you were my favorite meal—”

She cried out my name as she went over, and I jerked myself harder so that I could be right there with her.

With a groan, I let go, spilling over my hands and onto the comforter. I hadn’t felt like this since I was a teenager. Even as I relaxed onto the bed, wiping my hand on the sheet, I still wanted her.

“That was so good, and you weren’t even here.”

It made me wonder what kind of a lover her ex was if she was this enamored with phone sex. “I was with you the whole time.”

“I like that,” she said softly.

“Now tug that sweatshirt down and get some water.”

“I’ll do that.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

I cleared my throat, then said, “I like you sleeping in my hoodie.”

“I like it too.”

I wanted to say something possessive like hell, like, You’re mine. That’s what happens when you wear my hoodie, and you come to the sound of my voice.

Instead, I said, “Dream of me.”

“I intend to.”

I hung up the call, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. I was more randy than a teenager, strung tighter than I’d ever been. I was in deep, and we’d only just begun whatever this was.

Then there was the thing that had been bugging me since she said it. Claire wanted something light and easy, no strings attached.

I think I might have agreed to that. But that wasn’t what I wanted. I was all in. I had a feeling I was going to get crushed.

* * *

We’d spent the weekend prepping the farm for opening day on Wednesday. Then we’d close for Thanksgiving. The rush for a tree would begin again on Friday.

When we walked inside for the meeting with Charlotte on Sunday, Dad called out, “Take off your boots. Wash your hands.”

“We’re not ten, old man,” Teddy grumbled.

Dad popped his head into the mudroom. “We have company.”

“Charlotte’s here?” Teddy asked.

“I don’t want her to think we’re Neanderthals. She won’t want to work with us.”

I slapped Teddy’s stomach. “This is the only caveman here. We’ll just tie him up outside so she doesn’t have to talk to him.”

Teddy grabbed my wrist and twisted it behind my back. I remembered the release move, so we grappled for a few seconds before Dad yelled, “Enough. I don’t know why I bother with you.”

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