Page 127 of Jesse's Girl

“Doesn’t seem… oh, I dunno…”—he drives two fingers inside me and I gasp—“fair.”

“Oh, fuck, Jesse…”

“Make it up to me,” he rasps. “Make a fucking mess of my hand when you come again.”

It doesn’t take much. His strokes start slow and then speed up, my muscles clenching and tight, my fingernails digging into his shoulders. The pleasure quickly builds to a peak, exploding inside of me like it had been caged there, aching to be let loose. My strangled voice rings through the empty restaurant as the waves of my release throb and wash over me in an all-consuming chaos. Jesse slows as my orgasm ebbs, the jump of my muscles grasping at his fingers in soft pulses.

“Attagirl,” he says softly, stroking my cheek as I return to Earth, panting and sated.

I give him a drowsy kiss and drop my forehead to rest on his shoulder. That feeling hits me again—the same one from after he read to me on our couch. The one where I feel so safe—so protected—I know I could fall asleep in this man’s arms. Not just now, not just tonight, but every day, forever.

Oh, God. I love him.

He rubs soft circles on my back with his free hand.

I’m in love with him.

“God. How long have we been here?” I ask, trying to keep things light. I smile into his T-shirt, inhaling the scent of sex—and of him. “What year is it?”

He twists to kiss my cheek, chuckling. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up. I wanna take you home.”

Home. He could take me anywhere and it would be home.

27

JESSE

Frank frowns at his watch. “What’s the holdup?”

“Oh, you know how Marcus works so hard,” Maria chirps, waving a dismissive hand and scooping another helping of lasagna onto my plate before I can protest.

“I’m really good, Maria,” I start, trying and failing to stop her before she loads me up with more food than I can eat.

Ada nudges my ankle under the table and shakes her head. Maybe it’s better not to refuse food in the Russo household.

“Nonsense! There’s so much! Eat!” Maria moves to fill up my wineglass for the second time. “Plus, your mother got good news today, so we have something to celebrate. It’s a shame she couldn’t join us for dinner.”

“Right,” I say, halfheartedly. After getting the all-clear to drive and resume light activities, Mom had been so excited she’d decided to celebrate with her best friends; she’d made a dinner reservation before we even left the parking lot at the doctor’s office. I try to push down the knowledge that Mom’s news means I’ve been given my own all-clear: to fly back to Australia.

“I know Marcus had some things to wrap up with that Gilmore account,” Frank says, “but it shouldn’t have taken all day.” He sips his wine.

“I can text him,” Ada offers, reaching for her phone. “Or Renee. Was she gonna come?”

“Renee had a client,” Maria says. “And don’t bother texting. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

Ada’s brow furrows. “Is the door locked or something?”

“Oh,” Maria says, like she’s suddenly remembered something, “that actually might be Gloria.” She pushes up to answer the door.

Ada shoots a curious look at her dad.

“I think she was gonna stop by to pick something up for the bake sale,” Frank explains.

“Oh.” Ada sounds uneasy and, when I glance her way, she looks it.

“Who’s Gloria?” I ask her under my breath.

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