Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
As my orgasm begins to course through my body slowly, he flips me onto my back and pumps into me harder, quickly finding his release.
I revel in this moment, mesmerized by him moving above me. Face tense, lips parted; it feels like a bonus orgasm—a compulsion I can’t deny.
“Fuck you, Jaymes . . . god . . . just . . . fuck you . . . I never want . . . to stop.” There is more to his words than the simple meaning behind each one. With Fitz, it’s never what he says as much as how he says it.
I can’t stop my grin as he fights his emotions. There’s something gratifying about being the person who gives someone else strength. However, I’m thoroughly addicted to being Calvin Fitzgerald’s greatest weakness.
He’s not deficient in confidence. He’s brave on a whole different level. Except with me, he’s vulnerable. And I’m incredibly honored that he trusts me with the part of himself that he has yet to understand.
My sweaty person breathes heavily in my ear before kissing a trail down my chest to my abs, teasing my belly button with his tongue.
I giggle. “Stop! That tickles.”
I feel his lips pull into a grin along my skin while he presses his hands into the mattress on either side of my body. He drags his tongue to my side and bites my skin just above my hip.
I jerk. “Fitz!” I wriggle beneath him.
He laughs, and it’s an ecstatic sound.
I push at his chest. “I have to pee, and now I need a shower.”
“Good idea.” He lifts himself off the bed, grabs my hand, and pulls me to my feet.
“What’s a good idea?”
He grips my shoulders and leads me around the corner into the bathroom. “Shower sex.”
“I didn’t say—OUCH!” I squeal when he smacks my bare ass.
“Just get the fuck in the shower.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CALVIN
I’ve never wanted to share my past with someone as much as I do with Jamie. Also, I’ve never wanted to hide every miserable memory from someone as much as I do with Jamie. It’s a ridiculous dichotomy, but it makes perfect sense to me.
So here I am, staring down the edge of a cliff, and I don’t know whether I should run away or jump.
I do, however, know that I need to take a piss, but half her body is draped over mine in this tiny excuse for a bed. An inch at a time, I extricate myself from her clinging limbs and tangled sheets. By the time I step out of the bathroom, she’s claimed the whole bed, hugging her pillow instead of lying on it.
I grin. My sister used to hug her pillow instead of lying on it.
It’s nearly five o’clock in the morning, so I step into my jeans and pull on my shirt. When I kiss Jamie’s cheek, she doesn’t flinch, but she takes a longer breath and releases it in a contented sigh.
Thirty minutes later, I’m at my grandma’s house, changing into running shorts and hitting the pavement toward the nearest trail and steepest inclines.
In true Grandma fashion, she has breakfast waiting for me when I return. “Go shower before you sit with me.” She sips her coffee with a shaky left hand.
I inhale the sweet cinnamon from her streusel-topped coffee cake and grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
After my shower, I check my phone. There are no messages.
“Jamie is lovely.” Grandma eyes me intently when I sit beside her at the kitchen table.
“She lived in Florida her whole life until she moved to Montana last January. This year, she left Florida for the first time. Saw the mountains for the first time. Flew on a plane for the first time.” I sip my coffee.
“What do you know about her family?”
“Not a lot. Her parents died.”
“What else?”
I shrug. “I haven’t asked anything else.”
Her shaky hand sets the mug on the table. “Why?”
“I respect people’s privacy.”
“Perhaps asking her about her past would indicate that you’re interested, not prying into her private life.”
“Perhaps. But how can I know? So it’s best to let her share those details if she wants to.”
“I don’t want to die before you find love.”
“Then you’d better be immortal.” I smirk before taking a bite of coffee cake.
“Calvin David Fitzgerald.” She gives me the same scolding look she’s been leveling in my direction since she took over raising me twenty-two years ago.
“You’ve always told me to follow my passion. That’s what I’m doing. I love my job. And I love that I’m not accountable to anyone but you.”
“Love is passion.”
I make duck lips and shake my head. “Not always.”
“You are a stubborn boy.”
“I’m a stubborn man.” I chuckle.
“If you don’t converse any better than that with Jamie, then you’re just a boy.”
After last night, I’d say Jamie and I converse just fine. We simply use fewer words to communicate.