Page 58 of Home in Nevada

Jamie’s grin widens, and he glances at me for just a second before focusing back on the road. “Yeah… sure.”

I can feel my ears burning now, and I shift in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest like it’ll somehow shield me from him. God, this is humiliating. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously spot-on,” he quips, laughing softly.

I groan, letting my head fall back against the seat. I feel his hand brush against mine, and before I can process what’s happening, his fingers are threading through mine.

I glance over at him, half expecting him to be joking, but his grip is steady, his expression soft. He doesn’t say anything else—just keeps his eyes on the road, his thumb brushing gently against my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I’m frozen for a moment, but then I squeeze his hand back. It’s small, but it feels like a promise, one I didn’t realize how badly I needed.

The rest of the drive is quiet, filled only with the hum of the engine and the steady warmth of Jamie’s hand in mine. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be

We spend most of the day eating, drinking, and playing video games.

I manage to keep things low-key, exactly as I promised myself. I don’t do anything overly flirtatious. We don’t even kiss—not once. We just talk, laugh, and do normal, everyday things. And honestly? It feels like enough.

I decided before I flew out here that I was going to let Jamie take the lead. I’m not going to mess things up this time.

Jamie is… well, for lack of a better word, absolutely fucking adorable. At the convenience store, he casually holds my hand while we pick out snacks, his thumb brushing mine again like it’s second nature. At the bar, he keeps his arm slung around my shoulders, leaning into me while we wait for a table. And then, on the drive home, one of our favorite old songs comes on the radio. Jamie glances at me with this huge grin and starts singing along, speeding up just enough to match the energy of the music.

We’re laughing and singing like idiots when the flashing lights show up in the rearview mirror.

We get pulled over.

I’m bracing myself for the awkwardness of a ticket, but Jamie just… charms his way out of it. He rambles to the officer about how excited he is to have me visiting, smiling like he’s the most innocent person in the world, and somehow, it works. The cop lets him off with a warning. I can’t even be mad. I just sit there, stunned, watching him drive off with this smug little smile. How the hell does he do that?

Later, we’re back at his place, sitting on the couch and playing one of our favorite shooters. I’m absolutely dominating the game, but I can feel Jamie glancing at me out of the corner of my eye. He keeps looking at me—giving me that look.

I try to ignore it. I really do. But it’s impossible not to notice when he keeps sneaking glances, his brown eyes practically glowing with mischief.

I’m not about to lose this game, though. Not even for him.

Then, I feel it—his hand, warm and firm, gripping my thigh.

My fingers falter on the controller, and I glance over at him, caught completely off guard. His stupid, happy brown eyes meet mine, and I’m done for. My focus is gone, obliterated. His hand grazes higher, his touch deliberate and slow, and I can feel my heart racing in my chest.

“…You’re trying to make me lose,” I say, my voice rough.

Jamie laughs, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I’mmakingyou lose?” His tone is teasing, almost daring.

“Yeah, you are,” I grumble, focusing back on the screen.

“Good,” he says simply, leaning closer and setting his controller down like the game doesn’t matter to him at all—like it’s already over. His lips brush against my neck while I try to play, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. I feel his smirk against my skin, the deliberate way he presses closer. His hand moves up to my abdomen, steady and sure, sliding beneath my shirt with no hesitation.

I gasp, leaning back into the couch as my controller slips from my hand and lands beside me.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Jamie murmurs against my ear, his tone smug, his fingers brushing along my skin like he owns me.

Fuck the game.

Jamie’s lips curve into a smile against my neck, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles just behind my ear as he breathes me in deeply. His hand squeezes my upper thigh, firm and teasing, achingly close to my hardening length. He knowsexactlywhat he’s doing, and the quiet moan that escapes me makes his smirk widen.

“Didn’t think you’d give up so fast,” he whispers near my ear.

I lean back into the cushion, my thumb brushing absently over his arm in a small, mindless caress. My entire body hums with the same greedy need he stirred in me that night in my apartment back in Los Angeles.

Then Jamie pulls away, and before I can even protest, he’s straddling my hips on the couch, pushing me deeper into the cushion as he kisses me hard, his lips hot and insistent. He nips at my lower lip before pulling away with a grin.

---