Page 104 of Embody

Thirty-Three

Bellamy

I’M NOT NORMALLYa volatile person, not even in the ballpark, but there was no way in hell I was gonna sit back and do nothing while someone called my friends “rude” and “trashy.” Especially when they’re anything but. They’ve all been so good to me; because of Jefferson, I now have a really nice apartment and a freakin’ car. Yeah, no…I had to say something to her.

Now that my adrenaline’s finally resumed normal flow-rate, my mind starts to drift back to where it’s been most of the night—Jefferson and the “love” bomb he dropped— accidently. I shouldn’t be upset, he can’t help what he does and doesn’t feel, or when it happens. But the moment he said it, something in me bloomed with hope. Hope that he did,could, love me. And once the notion was given voice, thought, possibility…I can’t seem to think of anything else, or find my way back to how I felt before.

And maybe if he’d never said it, my subconscious would’ve kept me protected, ‘cause up until now, I’d refused to acknowledge my own feelings. Too petrified of opening myself up for the hurt I’d be left to endure…when Jefferson got bored and left. But if you love someone, youdon’tleave. You stay and fight. Work through it.

Even if he didn’t mean to say it, Pandora’s Box has been opened and I’m faced with the truth—I’m in love with Jefferson Tate Kendrick, and there’s no going back to the “safe” place of non-acknowledgement.

Iwantto stay and fight with him about every meaningless, stupid thing we can possibly think up to argue about. I want to make up, earn his forgiving smile and kiss him right on it. I want to try new things with him, things I never thought I’d do. I want his arms to wrap me in their soft, loving haven when I cry. His body to love me when I…well, pretty much anytime he wants.

“Baby,” he nudges me and lightly laughs, reaching up to smooth the worry line between my eyes. “It’s a concert, not an execution. Whatcha stewing on?”

“Nothing,” I shift in my seat and “pep” up, trying to give my lie some merit.

He leans into me, brushing my hair aside to warm my ear and neck with his low, rumbled words. “It’s not nothing, Bellamy. It wasn’t nothing to-”

Damn you, Sam Hunt!All this waiting and you picknowto take the stage? I’m boycotting him from this moment forward.

Of course, the crowd goes wild, the arena thunderously loud with the deep thumps of the bass drum, whistles and screams—whatever Jefferson was about to say lost in the mayhem.

Our group all stands, plenty of room between our seats and the partition to dance, which Presley does immediately. The intensity quickly becomes contagious and my gloomy mood dissolves, so I scoot up to the railing and soon feel my hips start to swivel to the beat.

Jefferson moves inrightbehind me, caging me in with both arms on either side of me, his chin resting on my head. The frenzy around us can’t compare—my awareness is of him. I feel his large, sturdy frame cocooning me in masculine safety. The alluring hint of his cologne, which I know to be YSL L’Homme, teasing my nostrils and sense of reason. The slight sway of his hips in perfect, melodious rhythm with mine. And like the dirty girl I show brief flashes of being more and more these days, I imagine those hips of his moving smooth and deep, ass muscles flexing as he works inside of me.

Alright, maybe I’ll forgive Sam Hunt.

Who…doesn’t have that many fast songs. The lights go out and the arena’s pitch black lest the flick of lighters and an overhead twinkling stars effect. The ambience, mixed with Sam’s deep voice singing the romantic words of a slow song awakens an urgency inside of me. Jefferson too, if judging by the way he presses himself more firmly against me and wraps his arms tightly around my waist.

“Bellamy,” he murmurs in my ear, and with the more docile atmosphere, I hear him…in every pore.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite song of his?” He moves my hair again and asks hotly against my neck.

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” he slides his lips along my skin.

A jolt of intuition thrums through me and I answer, the anticipation of his reason for asking and plans dizzying. “Speakers.”

“You make sure and tell me when it starts, okay?”

I nod my head, breathing in short pants, pushing my ass back into him. I glance over, something telling me it matters, and confirm—I can’t see Brynn, or anyone for that matter, it’s too dark. Which means…they can’t see us either.

I lay my head back against Jefferson’s shoulder and close my eyes during “Make You Miss Me,” soaking up the feel of our bodies melded together, moving as one in a delicious tempo. And after one other song, the echo of wind fills the arena…my song.

He must feel my body tense because he growls in my ear, “This the one?”

Again, I simply nod.

“Waited, wanted it to be special, so you’ll never forget. Every time you hear this song, you’ll tingle for me, want me near you,” he grunts and I melt, resting all my boneless weight against him. “I meant it, Bellamy, before. I do love you. Because of you, I took the time to get to know my soul. Found out, it’s been waiting and now longs,for you. How I feel about you, it’s out of my control, but I’ve never felt more fulfilled and at peace in my life. I do, I love you, madly.”

He’s right, I will remember this moment for the rest of my life. Every. Single. Word. The exact, pounding rhythm of my heart. The sting of happy tears behind my lids. And what I do next, too overcome with love, lust, happiness and desire to be a bit ashamed…I’ll remember it forever too.

I leave my eyes closed and blindly find his hand, guiding it to the inside of my thigh. His chest vibrates on my back with a heady rumble and I slide my foot over to spread my legs farther apart.

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