Page 15 of His for the Taking

“Kody,” Jameson’s voice mutters in my ear. His hand is spanning the entirety of my lower back, and my stupid body responds to him even when I don’t want it to.

“Good grief, you about had me peeing my pants.” Boundaries. Jameson has none of them as he pulls me into his firm body.

“Sorry, figured you didn’t need two iced coffees. Our order is at the counter.” I’m utterly confused, and my face must share the sentiment. “I called in reinforcements. I didn’t get food, though.” He looks uncertain. The man who always looks stoic, his shit isn’t locked down, almost like he’s shaking in his boots. I must be really lacking sleep, delusional in my state. Why else would I be happy to see him feeling unsettled?

“Coffee is good. I take it Shaun had no problem blabbing his mouth.” My big brother is a talker. My parents once teased him when he was little that he’d talk to a brick wall. He’d talk to a stranger at the grocery store or standing on a street corner waiting at the crosswalk. He never met someone he couldn’t have a conversation with, and he’s still the same way to this day. As for me, I’m a bit more hesitant, unless it’s a child. They’re much easier to understand than adults.

“Eh, not so much Shaun. I used Matthew, who then asked Shaun. My little brother covered for me. I’m not ready to admit to your brother how much of a fuckup I’ve been before I talk to you first.” I inhale a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments before exhaling. I’m really in deep shit if Jameson is finding the error of his ways already. I mean, sure, he’s been a giant dick hole more times than I’d care to admit. The saying goes, three strikes and you’re out. Last night was definitely his third and final, so I’m not sure why I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Yet here I am, getting my hopes up. It’s all Kari’s fault. She’s the one who told me to hear him out, putting in little words of wisdom and encouragement. She has to know by now that not everyone can be as amazing as Johnny.

“Jameson.” I go to stop once again on our way to the pickup counter. He must have felt my body tense.

“Hold that thought. Let’s get our drinks, take a walk, and we’ll talk, okay?” He wins me over with a smile that’s panty freaking dropping. Where’s my backbone when I need it? Somehow, it manages to disappear when I’m awarded with a smile, an orgasm, or when he whispers dirty words into my ear in his driveway.

“Alright.” Jameson reaches the counter first, grabbing my iced coffee. A sigh leaves me at the perfect color coffee. You know it’s going to be a good day when there’s a perfect amount of creamer added to it.

“Here ya go.” I greedily take the cup, my mouth wrapping around the straw and taking my first sip. “Jesus, Kody,” Jameson grunts. His massive hand wraps around what looks to be a large hot coffee, and yet he dwarfs the cup. Not that I really have a clue on what he’s packing. He stopped that before I got started. All I know is the saying I’ve heard more times than I care to admit or remember, but this is what you get when you grow up with an older brother who walked around the house saying, ‘Big hands, big feet, and big meat.’

“What?” I ask, acting like I wasn’t just taking him in from head to toe.

“Come on, before you start a riot with that mouth of yours.” It’s then I put two and two together, pull the straw out of my mouth, and have the good sense to look down at the ground. The last thing I want to do is add unwanted attention. Jameson’s hand hasn’t left my lower back, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s declaring something I’m not prepared for. We walk toward the side door. I push it open with my free hand, and then we’re away from the noise of the chatter of the coffee shop.

“Thank you for my drink,” I tell him as we walk down the small red bricked alley that leads us to Main Street. Jameson stays silent, only giving a small nod of his head as he takes a sip of his coffee. It’s a good thing he’s guiding the way, so to speak, since my gaze is riveted to his side profile, watching his every move.

“You’re welcome. I’m pretty sure I owe you more than an iced coffee.” He doesn’t elaborate, yet the list running through my head is a mile long. We turn left out of the small alley. Fall is here to stay. The leaves are turning from green to the richest colors of golden yellow, a burnt orange, and a deep red. Most people who live in colder climates hate when the leaves change, a sign that winter is on the horizon, ice and snow coming along with it. As for me, I love everything about fall. Spring too; it’s worth going through a brutal winter in my eyes. Especially to have this type of beauty surrounding us. “Are you okay to sit here while we talk?” He nods to the black metal bench facing the street under a maple tree.

“Sure, that works.” I take another sip of my coffee, knowing I’m going to need it in order to get through what I hope isn’t an awful conversation. I swear if this man tries to apologize for last night or say it was a mistake, I really will throw my coffee at his stupid handsome face.

Jameson waits for me to sit down before he does. My butt meets the bench, and I pull one leg beneath me, the back of my thigh on top of my ankle. The outfit I chose to wear today is similar to yesterday’s, only this time, my leggings are olive green. I’m not wearing a flannel but a cream-colored crew neck, two sizes too big in order to cover my butt. On the front is a vintage-style logo of a pro football team. One of my finds I found at a thrift store in Chicago. It’s a team my dad shakes his head at because it’s his arch nemesis when it comes to Sunday night football. Hence why I bought it. I love to give him as much grief as he gives me. Today, I’m not wearing sandals with socks. Knowing we’d be in town, I didn’t want to step in a puddle and be left with wet feet. My shoe choice was easy, really. A pair of canvas sneakers completed the look.

“So, yeah.” Jameson sets his coffee on his jeans-covered thigh with a hand on top of it. His other hand runs through his hair. I can tell he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” I respond. His watchful gaze is on mine, and I’m waiting for him to say something stupid again.

“I need to apologize for last night.” My chest rises, I purse my lips, and Jameson continues on as my hand tightens around my cup. He clenches his jaw for a moment before his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. “Fuck, I’m screwing this all up. No way in fucking hell am I apologizing for watching you come apart on my fingers and getting my first taste.” He keeps his eyes planted on mine as he bends down to place his cup of coffee on the ground, and then he’s moving closer until his knee is touching mine. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want you on your knees. I’d have loved nothing more than to feel your mouth around my cock. Last night was for you, not for me. That along with how I treated you at Emma’s wake and the park… I’m a dick, an asshole, a slew of other names I deserve to hear.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t think those things or say them to my best friend. I appreciate the apology and the clarification on the other part, too.” He may be able to talk about sex openly where people could hear him, but that is not me. I enjoy sex as much as the next person. What I don’t want is for others to hear what happens in my personal life.

“You deserve more than an apology and an iced coffee. I shouldn’t even be asking this, except I’m desperate, greedy, and I’ve got no damn shame when it comes to making it known that I want you, Kody.” And there goes me holding a grudge like it’s my will to live. Jameson Evans is dismantling every wall I keep erecting, and I should have known he’d tear them down. I knew it the moment he looked at me when I was playing with Josephine. Sure, he wasn’t the nicest, but he also couldn’t keep his eyes off me all the same. “I still owe you for watching Josephine yesterday, and I’ve got it on high authority that you’re her friend.”

“Are you using your daughter to persuade me once again, Mr. Evans?” I ask, taking my last sip of coffee. I’m tempted to pout and order another, except with too much caffeine and a lack of food, it’ll make me a jitterbug.

“And if I was?” Jameson slides closer, hand gliding beneath my long dark locks, looking like he wants to take my mouth.

“I’d say you’d have to prove it to me. As far as Josephine goes, I’ll always be her friend and will watch her any day of the week. But you, Jameson, are going to have to work harder to get back in my good graces.” Pulling away from him is the absolute last thing I want to do.

He dips his head, lips going to my ear, his voice causing me to shiver.

“And work at it I will, promise.”

“Jameson.” I’m not a pushover, damn it. Except for right now. He’s edging backward, and all I want to do is follow him.

“The next time you say my name like that, it won’t be in public.” And there go any thoughts of coming out of this conversation without wondering how he’ll make that happen. “Now, I hate like hell I’ve gotta change the subject, but if I pick Josephine up from my mom’s without a promise of you being over tomorrow, she’ll never forgive me. Are you busy tomorrow?”

I shake my head, clear my throat. “No, everything I need to do I can do while she’s napping. What time?” A few social media posts are the only thing on my must-do list. Sadly, I’d like to say it should be easy, except it never is, and I spend the majority of my time second-guessing everything until I’m finally over it, then I hit publish and walk away.

“Same time as yesterday?” Jameson grimaces. It’s early. Really early. Totally doable, though.

“I’ll be there,” I respond. My hand goes to my empty cup, Jameson does the same, and then he holds his hand out for mine.

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