and gently pick up his hand again, my heart almost skipping a beat at the touch of his skin. “Thank you, Jason.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” he counters, and his eyes are so affectionate. “You’ve always got me, no matter what.”
There’s no resisting that. I lean in toward him, like a flower trying to face the sun, and breathe in the deep, musky scent of his cologne. His tie is loose, his jacket is hanging from his shoulders, and part of his shirt has come untucked from his pants, showing me just how much of a rush he was in to get here.
This man is all that I want by my side.
I don’t remember leaning up and kissing Jason, just that it happens. My hands are cupping his cheeks, and he’s leaning down into the kiss with a slow sigh, almost melting toward me. Even though I don’t remember how this came to be, I know I’ll always remember the feelings flowing through me the moment our lips touch.
The sparks whiz through my entire body and send shudders coursing through me. I press in closer to him, needing more than what I’m getting. A voice in the back of my mind scolds me. This is exactly how I got pregnant
But that doesn’t matter. My mind feels clearer than it has in weeks. I might not know what, exactly, my feelings for Jason are, but I know that I want him. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it to myself.
Jason is the one to break the kiss. He does an admirable job of trying to lean away, which would be far more effective if his arms weren’t around my waist.
“Wait,” he breathes, sounding breathless. “Opal, don’t do this to yourself. Every time we’ve been intimate in any way, it was a mistake. We can’t make it again.”
I give him a small smile.
“Who says it’s a mistake this time?” I say quietly.
Every other time was a mistake, rushed and impersonal, just a quick fuck between us to tide us over until the next time frustration overtook us. Even sleeping together the other night was missing something.
But, for the first time, it doesn’t feel like I’m rushing into anything. It doesn’t feel like I’m just going along with the motions, too overwhelmed with sensation to pull away.
No, this time I’m kissing Jason with my eyes wide open. I want this.
“Being with you is never a mistake,” I say, and then I pull him into a kiss before he can say anything more.
I don’t want words at the moment. What I want is to feel.
Thankfully, Jason seems to understand that. He dives into the kiss with fierce abandon, clutching at me like a drowning man. He must be wondering what on earth is going through my head, especially after all the times I’ve angrily rejected him, but neither of us is interested in slowing down enough to talk it through.
We can talk later. Now is the time to touch.
I feel Jason’s hand skimming down my side. I writhe and move away, unable to help the grimace at my sore side. Vomiting several days in a row really hasn’t been good for my body.
Jason pulls away.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, breathing hard, and there’s a fiery, determined look in his eyes. “Right now, at this moment, what do you want?”
Well, that’s simple.
“You,” I say.
He’s watching my expression carefully, but there’s no lie for him to find here. I’m telling the honest truth, and I look back at him calmly.
Something flashes across his face, too fast for me to see. But then he’s kissing me again and guiding me backward, and I lose all interest in other questions. I can ask him what he’s feeling later, when my focus isn’t just to touch and taste and smell.
I feel one of Jason’s hands creeping under my large shirt, his large, strong hand cupping my waist. I shiver at the feeling and gasp when his knuckle brushes the underside of my breast. I went braless again today. I had no intention of relaxing while wearing a bra, after all. It would completely defeat the purpose.
“No bra?” Jason purrs, and my brain almost short-circuits at the sound of his deep, come-hither voice.
“Too annoying,” I tell him, shuddering when he does the same thing again.
“So responsive, Opal,” Jason says, and I try and piece together my thoughts enough to focus on what he’s saying. Then his other hand creeps under my shirt and I’m lost. “You want