Page 99 of Home in Nevada

I manage a shaky laugh, the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips. “...It’s been pretty fine.”

Jamie grins, his whole face lighting up like I’ve just told him the best joke in the world. “Yeah, it has. All sorts of fine.”

When he kisses me, it’s slow and easy, the kind of kiss that says everything he doesn’t have to.

But then, just as I’m starting to relax, Jamie pushes me back onto the mattress with a grin that’s equal parts playful and dangerous. His weight settles over me, pinning me in place, and before I can say a word, his lips are on mine again—this time with an intensity that steals my breath. His tongue dives deep, swallowing the groan that slips from my throat, and it feels illicit, raw, like he’s taking every last bit of me for himself.

My hands are trapped next to my head, his fingers locking me in place, and I feel the deliberate press of his hips against mine. He shifts, pressing even closer, before bending down to my neck. His teeth graze my skin, sending a jolt through me, and when he nibbles gently, I swear I could melt into the mattress.

“God, Jamie…” My voice comes out rough, almost a groan, and I can feel the smirk against my neck as his lips brush my skin.

“Hmm?” he hums, the sound teasing, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. His hands slide down my sides, slow and deliberate, his fingers pressing just hard enough to drive me out of my mind. He shifts his weight against me, and I swear I’m about to lose it.

“You’re killing me,” I manage, my breath hitching as he nips at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.

Jamie pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, his expression full of that smug, playful confidence that drives me crazy. “Killing you?” he repeats, his voice low and smooth. “You sure about that? Because according to what I'm feeling right now, I think you're okay.”

I groan, gripping the sheets beneath me as he moves his hips just enough to keep me on edge. “You’re fucking killing me,” I mutter again. He’s got me wrapped around his finger, and we both know it.

Jamie’s grin widens as he leans in, his forehead brushing against mine. “Take your pants off” he whispers, his voice a mix of teasing and tender. "Hurry up.”

I kick and wiggle out of my pants with all the grace of a drunk octopus, one pant leg getting caught on my sock. Jamie laughs, leaning back to tug it free for me. He tosses them onto the floor without a second thought, his grin widening as his eyes flick back to mine. There’s something so Jamie about the look in his eyes… effortless, playful, completely at ease.

Then his hand slides between us, cupping me through my boxers, and I nearly whimper. Nearly. My breath hitches, and any attempt at composure I had vanishes on the spot. I’m not even ashamed about how pathetic I am over Jamie anymore. He’s got me—completely, unapologetically.

“Sensitive today, huh?” he teases, his voice dipping just enough to make my stomach tighten.

“You’re one to talk,” I manage, though it’s more of a breathless mutter than a proper comeback.

Jamie just smirks, his thumb dragging lazily over me, and it takes everything in me not to arch into his touch. “Maybe,” he admits, his tone light but loaded. “But I’m not the one making all those pretty sounds.”

I groan, tossing an arm over my eyes, but he pulls it away just as quickly, his grin turning downright devilish. “No hiding, Jeff,” he says softly, leaning in so his lips graze the shell of my ear. “I want to see you. Every reaction. Every sound. Got it?”

I nod, swallowing hard, and meet his gaze. The look in his eyes is enough to undo me. Confident. In control. Completely tuned in to every little way I respond to him. It’s like he knows me better than I know myself.

Jamie doesn’t wait for me to recover from the sheer power of his words before he’s moving, sliding down my body with deliberate ease. His hands trace my sides, pushing my shirt up to my arms. His lips press warm, open-mouthed kisses to my bare stomach, and I feel like I’m going to lose my damn mind. Every nerve is tuned to him—his touch, his breath, the low hum of approval he gives when I shiver under him.

He pauses just below my waistband, his fingers hooking into the fabric of my boxers. “You’re so good at following instructions,” he says, his voice smooth and teasing. Jamie tilts his head, looking up at me like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. He drags his hands deliberately over my thighs, his touch light enough to make my skin prickle, but firm enough that I can feel the heat of him through every nerve.

“You’re good at… this,” I manage to whisper, though it feels like an understatement so pathetic it should disqualify me from speaking altogether. My voice sounds wrecked, and honestly? It is. My brain is completely fried. How the hell is he stringing full sentences together like this?

He smirks, that same knowing, confident tilt to his mouth that should probably piss me off but only makes my pulse race harder. “I know,” he says, his voice low and smug.

Jamie’s tone is so matter-of-fact, so absolutely certain, that I almost laugh—if it weren’t for the fact that I’m completely incapable of doing anything but staring at him. His eyes stay locked on mine for a moment longer, those wickedly sharp cheekbones only making his smirk more insufferable. Then, without warning, he leans forward, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of my lower abdomen, and my head drops back against the pillows with a groan.

Every nerve feels like it’s on fire as Jamie takes me in, his mouth impossibly warm, his tongue firmly dragging against my throbbing dick as he moves. The first slow, deliberate pull sends a shockwave through my body, and my hips jerk instinctively against his hold. His hands tighten on my thighs, grounding me, and I can’t tell if it’s to steady me or to keep me from moving. He's still teasing me, and I don't think I can take any more of it.

“Jamie…” I choke out again, my voice ragged, barely holding it together. He hums in response, and the vibration shoots straight through me, leaving me clutching at the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping me from flying apart. His tongue drags along the underside of me, slow and unrelenting, before swirling over the head, and I gasp, my back arching off the bed.

He doesn’t stop. Of course, he doesn’t. Jamie is nothing if not relentless, and the way his lips curve around me—like he’s smiling—is infuriating and unfair and entirely too much. My fingers twitch toward his hair, aching to touch him, to anchor myself in some way, but the intensity of his grip on my thighs has me pinned in place, completely at his mercy.

His hands slide higher, his thumbs grazing my hip bones now, and the slight pressure is enough to send another shiver coursing through me. He tilts his head, changing the angle, and when he takes me deeper, I can’t hold back the loud groan that tears from my throat.

“Fuck...”

I’m barely coherent, the word spilling out before I can think to hold them back. He hums again, the sound low and almost smug, and I swear he’s doing this on purpose—dragging it out, taking his time, knowing exactly how to unravel me piece by piece.

My breathing is erratic, my chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, and when I glance down, the sight of him, his blonde hair falling into his eyes, his lips stretched around me, the way he looks so completely in control… it nearly undoes me. I can’t help the way my fingers twitch toward his head again, but this time, he lets me, the feel of his hair slipping between my fingers.

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