21
Jess
Musicians are gifted;this is something I already know to be true. But bass players have the most magnificent hands, and Sean’s reach a whole ’nother level. I swear, he must have an extra one with how well he plays mybody.
My hand’s in his as he leads me through the house and up the stairs. My gut churns with indecision as my gaze falls on Coy’s door. Am I doing the right thing sleeping with Sean? The room I’ve shared with Coy lies open, along with the hurt of our broken relationship. No, I won’t pass up this chance to be with Sean. I want this. I’ve always wanted this. Maybe it’s selfish, but I won’t let Coy keep this from me too. I squeeze my eyes shut the last few steps until I’m safely inside Sean’sroom.
“This still okay?” His voice makes me realize I haven’t opened myeyes.
“It’s perfect.” My gaze travels across his large room to his bed with messed sheets, and it’s there my heart lurches in my chest. A gasp escapes my lips. “Oh!”
“You like it? I bought it in San Diego, at the charitygala.”
“I love it.” My pulse thrums erratically at the sight. Of course I remember the photograph. It’s as stunning as it was then, but how could he know how much I admiredit?
“And I didn’t buy it because she’s naked.” The words roll out of his mouth and he rakes his hands through his hair. “I mean, if that’s what you’rethinking.”
“Why would I think that?” A chuckle leaves my mouth, but my gaze still hasn’t moved from the framed photo. The woman, there’s something in her posture. In her powerlessness that speaks to me. That it’s right above his bed is kind ofperfect.
“The guys . . . It was stupid. Of course you don’t think that.” He laughs and waves his hand, almost as if he’s nervous. Something I’m not used to seeing inSean.
“Why?”
He tilts his chin. “Why,what?”
I hold his stare. “Why did you buyit?”
He shrugs and exhales in a rush before his lips turn up at the edges. “Because she reminded me ofyou.”
Maybe it was the answer I was looking for, maybe not. Maybe he’s only telling me what I want to hear. Either way, it propels me to be bolder than I have been. I close the steps between us and run my hands up his chest until they loop around his neck. “Take me tobed.”
His arms settle around my body until there’s no space between us. “Yes, ma’am.” His grin only lasts a moment before his lips cover mine. As slow as he went before, this time is different. Not rushed, but more urgent, as if we both can’t wait for what’snext.
I push my shorts and panties off first, then he does the same. We break apart only long enough for me to pull my shirt over my head and his lips are back on mine, as if he can’t stop himself. He shuffles us toward the bed and I unhook the clasp of my bra. The backs of my thighs hit his mattress and I don’t waste any time climbing onto it so he canfollow.
He lays me down so my back hits the mattress with a gentleness that steals what’s left of my heart. It’s a tenderness I’ve never known and my eyes fill with tears even though I’m not sad atall.
“Jess.” My name rushes from his mouth like a hiss, and his features twist with anguish. “Oh, no. Jess,no.”
It takes a second for my mind to catch up.Thebruises.
His brows narrow and he dips his chin. The longer strands of his hair fall forward and brush against my jaw. He presses kisses from one side of my neck to the other, so softly I can barely feel hislips.
God, I must look a mess. With my swollen cheek, the hateful marks that decorate my throat, and tears forming in my eyes. “I’msorry.”
“No.” He stops and glares. “Don’t you dare apologize for this . . . apologize for him. Justno.”
“But I’m a mess.” I choke out the words and turn my chin away so he can’t see the hurt side of myface.
But he doesn’t let me escape so easily. He lifts my chin with his fingers until I meet his stare. “You. Are. Beautiful. You don’t see how much, so I’ll show you, okay?” His brow loses all of its hardness. “Let me showyou?”
I nod, unable to speak without letting a tear or twoescape.
His lips and fingers trace my body, starting at my throat and working their way down my body. I swear he covers every inch of my skin with kisses. They’re not possessive either; if anything, it’s almost as if he’s attempting to heal all the broken, and that only feels more sacred. He kisses down one knee to my calf and stops at the inside of my ankle. In this position I’m completely exposed to him, my leg in his hand as he sits back on his heels. He’s hard and long but doesn’t stroke himself, not even once, as if this really is about me and nothim.
He grabs my other leg, doing the same but opposite, and lifts his stare to me as he kisses the inside of my thigh. “What do you want, Jess? Tellme.”
“I want you inside me.” There’s no other answer. He’s worshiping my body, but I ache to connect evenmore.
