Page 146 of Their Greatest Strength

His thrusts become harder, pointed. Every grind against my clit intensifies the pressure blooming in my core. His cock glides against that hidden spot inside of me with every jerk of his hips, threatening to steal my vision.

“Your what, Blakely?”

I shake my head and bite down on my lip to stifle the noise trying to escape me. If he keeps pushing, I’ll tell him how deep my feelings really run, and with what’s coming, I won’t do that to him.

Won’t do that to me.

His expression shifts, anger lighting his dark eyes. Every thrust comes quicker than the last, but I refuse to speak. He parts his lips on a deep groan, but it’s reluctant, like his pleasure forced it free.

“Your. What?”

While his fingers dig harder into my ass, they don’t hurt. He keeps his anger and frustration in check, only allowing his emotions to slip through his staccato words and searing stare.

I’m seconds away from an orgasm. The constant pressure against my clit and strong jab against my G-spot are taking me too high. A balloon expands in my groin, and it’s fear I feel now.

“Jamie—” I cry, shaking my head, pawing at his chest. “I’m going to?—”

He holds me tighter against the wall, bending his head to nip at my mouth in punishment. I suck in a breath and watch when he pulls back as his eyes gain a feral, possessive gleam.

“Soak me, Blakely. I’m proud to be yours.”

Tears burn my eyes as I come. The balloon pops, and I’m helpless to the spray of liquid that soaks into his groin, creating a slippery mess between us. Jamie somehow thrusts harder, faster, and grunts while grinding against me.

“I love you,” he hisses while filling me with hot cum.

“I love . . .” Bliss loosens my tongue, but I’m quick to correct myself with a soft moan.

I’m grateful that Jamie’s too blissed-out to catch my mistake, if anything I said at all. With a soft kiss to my brow, he carries me through to the ensuite and starts the shower. I wiggle in his hold, but he only tightens it, not saying a word.

The room gets hot with steam, and I keep my arms around him, waiting for the moment he can’t hold me any longer. That moment never comes.

Not as he moves us under the water and soaks us completely or when he gingerly rests my back against the wall and slips out of me before washing between my legs. The scent of my body wash fills the shower when he uses the bottle on the shelf to scrub the both of us.

Suddenly, my tears mix with the stream of water down my face. He doesn’t look away from me, and I don’t bother hiding the ache in my chest. There would be no point.

Jamie’s always been the one who can read me no matter how many walls I try and reinforce between us. Every emotion bubbling inside of me is his to see.

The most surprising part of all, though, is that not once does he ask for me to tell him what they all mean.

43

BLAKELY

I wakeup the next morning with my cheek smushed against Jamie’s chest, an arm python-wrapped around my middle, and my hand in his briefs. Despite the heaviness hanging over me, I hesitate for a moment longer before loosening my hold on his very hard dick and extracting myself from his hold.

I’m never up before him, but with how hard it was for me to sleep last night, I’m not surprised by the change. Last night was awkward. Dinner was silent besides Nate’s rambling, and Jamie stared at me in silence for hours until I escaped upstairs and went to bed early.

In reality, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling until he joined me a bit later and kissed me good night the same way he always does. Other than his silence, he didn’t seem upset by anything. It was all confusing beyond belief.

My heart aches, nausea creeping up as I slip out of bed and turn his phone alarm off, not wanting him to wake up before I’m gone. I can’t guarantee that his silence will last if he catches me.

As quietly as possible, I grab the clothes I set out last night and get dressed. Once I’m ready, I risk brushing my teeth before hovering by the bed.

Jamie’s going to hate me when I get home and he learns whatI’ve done. Our last night together was ruined by my inability to open up, and now . . . now, I won’t have a chance to tell him how I really feel.

Before I break down and wake him up, I leave the room. With gritted teeth, I keep from crying again.

Nate’s bedroom door is shut. I shove down the guilt of waking him this early before entering his space. He’s sprawled on the bed, the blankets hanging off the foot dangling over the edge of the mattress. Soft snores escape him, and I clench the fabric over my sternum, needing to hold something as I sit beside him.

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