Page 41 of Right Place, Right Time (Second Chances)
Chapter Nineteen
Kate
Lying beside Jay is intense. Lying beside Jay in his bed is even more intense. Lying beside Jay in his bed while he stares into my eyes is off the charts.
“You love that I’m bad?” he asks. He’s still holding both my hands with one of his and it’s driving me crazy because Ireallywant to trace the tattoos on his body with my fingers…and my tongue.
“I love everything about you,” I confess quietly. “And you’re notthatbad. Just misunderstood.”
You know those moments…the ones where you can actually feel everything change in an instant? Sometimes they’re good moments…sometimes they’re bad. Nevertheless, they’re a tipping point. A start of something new and different.
The first time I remember having one of those moments in a good way—probably the only time, too—was the day I was broke down on the side of the highway and suddenly looked into the most amazing eyes I’d ever seen. That moment had started Jay and me on the path of our rocky friendship. Our journey has been full of ups and downs, and it has had its fair share of distance and hostility—on his part, not mine—but look at us now. Here. Together. In bed.
Which brings me to the second time I’ve had one of those moments. Right now.
Thisis one of those moments.
Hell, this isthemoment.
His eyes say so much more than his words, and that thought alone brings me so much comfort because I can finally see what he’s thinking and feeling. His eyes tell me he cares, but that he’s scared. Scared of what he’s feeling, scared of hurting me, scared of the present and the future and the past. Especially the past. He’s scared that he’s not enough…that I’m too good. That he’s too bad.
Well…challenge accepted.
I take a deep breath, trying to psych myself up—so grateful he had that extra toothbrush—and go all in. Pulling my hands loose, I raise myself up on my left elbow and gently rest my right hand on his cheek. I gaze into his eyes, the perfect silver orbs, then lean in and press my lips to his.
He’s frozen for a moment, but only for a moment, before he kisses me back. He licks the seam of my mouth, and I open for him, loving the minty way he tastes. He’s all in, too. He rolls onto his back, pulling me with him so I’m lying with my upper body draped over his. With my kisses, I tell him that heisgood enough. I tell him not to be scared of anything…not of me, not of right now, not of tomorrow, and definitely not of yesterday.
I feel the moment when his walls fall down. He flips us over so I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me. He’s still kissing me, only now the delicious pressure of his hard-on is pressing straight against my center. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist and my arms around his shoulders, not wanting to let go. Ever.
He groans as I rock my hips against him, wanting to feel every last bit of friction. His arms are bent at the elbow, holding his upper body up, and his hands are fisted beside my head as if he’s holding on by one last thread. I want tosnapthat thread.
I run my hands down his back and palm his ass. I can feel the tautness of the muscle through his thin pajama shorts. I squeeze, and he thrusts against me. I moan at the contact and continue to rock against him, using my grip on his ass as leverage and willing that little thread of resistance to snap.
It does. Oh, finally it does.
Jay sets himself upright, kneeling between my legs. He takes hold of my wrists in each hand and comes back down on top of me, holding my wrists above my head. I feel so open, so vulnerable lying here before him. I love it.
He takes my mouth in a seething kiss and presses his erection against me.
“Please, Jay,” I beg against his mouth.
“Please what?” he teases, running the tip of his tongue from the corner of my mouth, down to my jaw, then tracing my jawline up to my earlobe. When he reaches his destination, he nibbles and I whimper with need.
“Make love to me,” I gasp, feeling like I’m about ready to explode from the feel of him pressed against me.
He faces me again and looks into my eyes, his reflecting the same vulnerability as mine. “I’ve never done that before,” he says softly, and I know he’s referring to my request to make love. Not sex in general. We both have pasts.
“Neither have I,” I tell him honestly.
He lets go of my wrists, and his hands frame my face as though I’m the most precious thing to him…maybe I am. “Kate…”
I put my finger to his lips, not wanting him to start speaking of all the ways this is not a good idea. This is the best freaking idea I’ve ever had, and I’m not letting him talk himself out of it. This is good and right and perfect, and I won’t let him ruin it by professing all the reasons he thinks he’s bad news. Because he’s not bad news. He’s not. He’s perfect, and he’s mine and I want this. So I tell him exactly that.
“I’m not perfect, Kate…far from it,” he responds with a loathsome tone.
“If you keep talking about my man that way, I’ll have to kick your ass,” I say, nipping at his full bottom lip with my teeth and letting it go with a pop.
“Your man, huh?”
