Bittersweet (Redemption #3) - Jessica Prince Page 0,67
hold any heat whatsoever, but the skin at my temple felt like it was on fire, and that burn made a quick path through the rest of my body before centering right between my thighs. It took a monumental effort, but I somehow managed to shake myself from my stupor and get us all drinks while Jensen dished up a meal that smelled incredible.
He stayed longer than I had expected, hanging around until it was time for Brantley to go to bed. When my boy had asked if Jensen would read him a bedtime story instead of me, it had stung like hell. But as I stood outside the bedroom door so I could peek in on them, I hadn’t been able to contain my smile as Brantley stopped him every five seconds to tell him he wasn’t doing the voices right.
The sight of the two of them—my son a miniature carbon copy of his dad—curled up in Brantley’s tiny twin bed was cuteness overload, and the sting was quickly soothed by a warmth I hadn’t felt in a really long time.
As he did every night, Brantley passed out during the second re-reading of his favorite book, his puffy pink lips parted in sleep and his whole body limp as a noodle. I watched, holding my breath as Jensen carefully extricated himself from our son’s tangled limbs and slipped off the bed. He bent deep, brushing Brantley’s hair back and placing a kiss on his forehead, whispering, “Love you, buddy.”
Pulling myself out of the tender moment, I quickly spun around and raced down the hall as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t know I’d been eavesdropping on the whole thing.
Throwing myself onto the couch, I snatched up the discarded book I’d thrown onto the coffee table and opened it, pretending to read as Jensen entered the room. “Oh, hey. He asleep?”
“Out like a light.” One side of his mouth hooked up in that cocky smirk he used to wear all the damn time. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“I—no—huh?”
“You really would make a shitty spy,” he said with a low, raspy chuckle that made my blood sizzle.
“Busted,” I said on a sigh.
“Yeah, just a bit of advice for the future. Solid objects cast shadows, especially when they’re hovering in a well-lit area. And if you want to pretend you weren’t lurking, you might wanna make sure the book you’re using as a prop to cover your tracks isn’t upside down.”
I snapped my book closed and tossed it back onto the coffee table, rising to my feet as I grumbled, “All right, smartass. You’ve made your point. I have no future in espionage or as a poker player.”
He gave me that big, genuine smile that made butterflies take flight in my belly. “How are you feeling?”
“At the risk of jinxing myself and experiencing a setback, I think I can say I’m officially out of the woods.”
“Good. I’m glad.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “I guess I should be going.”
I was hit with a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Oh, uh . . . yeah. I’ll just, um, walk you out.”
We walked at a slow, sedate pace to his truck outside, dragging the short trip out a whole lot longer than necessary. The truth was, I didn’t want him to go. Smart or not, I wanted him to stay. I just couldn’t bring myself to say those words.
Instead, I stopped a few feet from the driver side door and crossed my arms, holding myself steady as I said, “Thank you, Jensen, for everything you’ve done the past couple days.” I lowered my head and stared at the ground, suddenly nervous as I confessed, “I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”
I felt that featherlight touch of his fingers beneath my chin before he applied pressure, turning my face back up to his. “Nothing to thank me for, baby. I told you, I want to do my part. I won’t make excuses for the shit I fucked up in the past, all I can do is promise that it’ll be different from here on out.”
I felt those words in my chest and belly. That hope I’d tamped down for so long sprang up all of a sudden.
“Jens, I think . . . maybe we should find some time to sit down and talk? Get everything out in the open.” I waited anxiously for his response, because I knew it